TRI BUS SONDERBAND / SPECIAL EDITION I PERSPECTIVES ON THE INCA I 2015 TRI BUS SONDERBAND / SPECIAL EDITION PERSPECTIVES ON THE INCA I 2015 International Symposium from March 3rd to March 5th, 2014. Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde In Cooperation With Sponsored by Stuttgart 2015 Publisher Linden-Museum Stuttgart, Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde Hegelplatz 1, D-70174 Stuttgart, Germany Editors Monica Barnes, Inés de Castro, Javier Flores Espinoza, Doris Kurella, Karoline Noack Cover Orejón. Inca-Culture, 13th to 16th century A.D. Linden-Museum Stuttgart, Inv.Nr. 119159. Photo: Anatol Dreyer. B ook Design GZD Media, Renningen Printer Designpress, Renningen ISSN 0082-6413 Table of Contents SONDERBAND / SPECIAL EDITION 10 Prólogo 12 Introduction 16 Karoline Noack Buscando un Inca de aquí y de allá. Los incas de nuestro tiempo, Alemania y Lima, Perú 38 Stefanie Gänger Collecting Inca Antiquities. Antiquarianism and the Inca Past in 19th Century Cusco 50 Manuela Fischer The Inca Collection at the Ethnologisches Museum Berlin. Genesis and Contexts 64 Ann H. Peters Visions of the Inca Dynasty. Narrative Styles, Emblematic Dress and the Power of Ancestors 88 Monica Barnes How Did Huánuco Pampa Become a Ruin? From Thriving Settlement to Disappearing Walls 110 Kylie E. Quave I R. Alan Covey The Material Remains of Inca Power among Imperial Heartland Communities 128 César W. Astuhuamán Gonzáles The Inca Takeover of the Ancient Centers in the Highlands of Piura 152 David Oshige Adams Las motivaciones económicas y religiosas de la expansión incaica hacia la cuenca del lago Titicaca 166 Constanza Ceruti Inca Offerings Associated with the Frozen Mummies from Mount Llullaillaco 180 Steve Kosiba Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital 208 Brian S. Bauer I David A. Reid The Situa Ritual of the Inca. Metaphor and Performance of the State 226 Steven A. Wernke Building Tension. Dilemmas of the Built Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule 252 Donato Amado Gonzáles Sistema de tenencia de tierras de ayllus y panacas incas en el valle del Cusco, siglos XVI-XVII 268 Kerstin Nowack What Would Have Happened after the Inca Civil War? 9 10 PRÓLOGO El Linden-Museum Stuttgart, Museo Estatal de Antropología del Estado de Baden-Württemberg, Alemania, fue fundado en 1911 bajo el nombre de su fundador, el Conde Karl von Linden. Su prominente colección alberga aproxidamente 160.000 objetos procedentes de las Américas, de Africa, del Oriente islámico, de Asia del Sur y Este y de Ocenía. Su colección de piezas del Perú prehispánico es excepcional. En la ciudad internacional de Stuttgart, el Linden-Museum es lugar de diálogo y de educación multicultural. Durante los meses de invierno una exposición especial importante sobre un tema antropológico o arqueológico atrae mumerosos visitantes de todas partes de Alemania y de paises lindantes. Algunas de estas exposiciones son financiadas por el Ministerio de Ciencia, Investigación y Arte, las así llamadas “Gran Exposiciones del Estado de Baden-Württemberg”. El Linden-Museum Stuttgart dedicó la Gran Exposición del Estado de Baden-Württemberg “Los Incas–reyes de los Andes” a una de las grandes culturas de la América precolombina, que fue presentada del 12. de octubre de 2013 al 16 de marzo de 2014. La cultura incaica creó el mayor imperio en el continente americano antes de la llegada de los españoles y juega hasta el día de hoy un papel preponderante como aporte de identidad en el área andina. Pese que la denominación “Inca” se encuentra de modo omnipresente en prospectos de viaje, publicidad o como atracción para los millones de turistas en Macchu Picchu, nuestros conocimientos sobre esta considerable cultura no son profundos. La exposición “Los Incas–reyes de los Andes” que fue efectuada en cooperación con la Sala de Exhibiciones Lokschuppen de Rosenheim, mostró una gran variedad de objetos incaicos no presentados anteriormente, procedentes de colecciones europeas en combinación con piezas perservadas en instituciones peruanas. La exposición contribuyó notablemente a la comprensión de esta cultura tanto para los expertos como para los visitantes. 11 Nuestros conocimientos sobre la cultura incaica se basan ante todo en las crónicas de los conquistadores españoles: informes de conquista, cartas de reclamación y crónicas, así como estadísticas realizadas sobre el imperio incaico, que contienen diferentes informaciones, dependiendo de la intención del autor. No pueden esperarse informes oficiales prehispánicos de una cultura sin escritura. La codificación de la información sobre cordones de nudo o textiles no ha podido ser descifrada hasta el momento. Textos de nobles incaicos, como el informe famoso de Guaman Poma de Ayala de 1615, que con sus dibujos pinta la vida incaica, también deben observarse críticamente, pues siendo hijo de una familia indígena noble, él poseía un enfoque muy personal y limitado. Durante las últimas décadas, importantes proyectos arqueológicos contribuyeron esencialmente a la comprensión de la cultura incaica, especialmente en el valle de Cusco y en las regiones lindantes. Éstos ayudan a definir el comienzo de la cultura y a entender su transformación hacia el imperio. El gran desafío de la investigación actual es reconocer similitudes o diferencias entre las fuentes etnohistóricas y los nuevos resultados arqueológicos. La conferencia internacional “New Perspectives on the Inca”, que tuvo lugar en el Linden-Museum del 3 al 5 de marzo de 2014, tenía como meta presentar y discutir estos nuevos hallazgos. En cooperación con el Instituto de Arqueología y Antropología Cultural de la Universidad de Bonn, reconocidos expertos internacionales y jóvenes científicos se reunieron en Stuttgart para intercambiar ideas y conocimientos sobre los Incas. Sus contribuciones se encuentran en esta publicación que apaece como suplemento de nuestra revista anual Tribus . Deseo agradecer a todos estos autores por haber compartido sus conocimientos con nosotros. La conferencia y esta publicación retoman varios aspectos de nuestra exposición “Los Incas–reyes de los Andes” y contribuyen considerablemente a la comprensión de la cultura incaica. Esta conferencia no hubiera sido posible sin el generoso apoyo de la Ernst von Siemens-Kunststiftung y de la Deutsche Altamerika Stiftung. Agradecemos mucho este apoyo importante. Además, quisiera expresar mi sincero agradecimiento a todo el equipo del Linden-Museum por la organización de la conferencia “New Perspectives on the Inca” y en especial a la Dra. Doris Kurella, encargada del departamento de Latinoamérica, por haber tomado el papel de curadora de la exhibición “Los Incas–reyes de los Andes”, perfecta base de discusión para la conferencia. Agradezco también al grupo encargado de la redacción de esta publicación. Prof. Dr. Inés de Castro 12 INTRODUCTION DORIS KURELLA The papers in this volume were written in conjunction with a major exhibition, “The Incas–Kings of the Andes”. This exhibition was developed by a team from the Linden-Museum, to show Inca culture in a very broad perspective. The “Introduction” to the exhibition first provided information on the geography and climate of the central Andes. Next, we gave visitors a temporal and spatial framework through an interactive map. Important occurrences within the central Andes were compared with those of the rest of the world. The exhibit then introduced Andean cultures by presenting the Incas’ predecessors, the Tiwanaku and Wari cultures. The Chimú culture was presented in the following small module. The next topic was the many aspects of camelid domestication. Then the exhibition dealt with Inca origins and contrasted one of their most important myths with the newest insights archaeology has provided on that topic. Following that, “Cusco–City of Kings” was offered to visitors. Here, we focused on the life of the nobility and how their status was presented to the people. Uncus (men’s tunics) with their geometric and symbolic tocapu designs, gold jewelry, a golden ear spool, and very elaborate chuspas (coca bags) brought together from Europe and Peru impressed visitors. The Temple of the Sun, where we showed beautiful stone vessels, was dedicated to the topic of religion. This formed the end of the “City of Kings” module. The public was then guided to pay a visit to Machu Picchu and consider the topic of Inca royal estates. The second major part of the exhibit, “The Life of the Conquered People and the Organization of the Empire” began with the topic of war and conquest, and also covered the administration of the Inca empire. The last room in this section was dedicated to the question of how the conquered areas–whether won by violence or annexed through persuasion–were integrated into the empire. The “Integration of the Economy and Religion” composed the end of the Inca part of the exhibit. Lead through a tunnel that tried to make the shock and devastation of the Spanish conquest more impressive for our visitors, they reached the colonial part of the exhibition. Here, we picked up the topics of the Inca part–conquest, life of the nobility, life of the peasants, and integration into the new empire through economy and religion–and presented them under the colonial theme. The Inca exhibit was very well received by our visitors. Not only visitor numbers–together with our second venue in Rosenheim we reached more than 250,000–but also the comments of the public and the media were extremely positive. The many topics we raised within the exhibit, presented within a clear and easy to understand framework, in combination with a selection of exquisite objects, lead to that enormous success. A very warm thank you goes out to all our partners, who were very generous with respect to lending objects for the exhibition. The Education Department of the Linden-Museum developed a special guide for children. A cut-out of a chasqui (messenger), sometimes accompanied by a llama, took the children through the exhibit. Our special “tambo for kids” with different suggested activities was intensely visited–and not only by kids. The exhibition as a whole was based on the decades-long work and the many publications of colleagues from universities and museums in Peru, the United States, and Europe. In this respect, it was an enormous pleasure to develop the idea of our director to organize a symposium in conjunction with the show. To invite to Stuttgart colleagues who have contributed so much and have had such important insights into Inca was a great opportunity. For us, it was wonderful to welcome some of the authors whose books I, as a curator, relied on heavily, and for my colleagues it was a good opportunity to see the exhibition and exchange ideas and new results during the symposium. For that purpose, we organized the meeting in a way that provided a lot of time for both formal and informal discussions. We would have liked to have invited many more colleagues, but resources have their limits. We hope that the exhibition and symposium have stimulated new ideas for Inca research and the presentation of its results to the public. A catalog in German with the same title as the exhibition Inka–Könige der Anden , edited by Doris Kurella and Inés de Castro, was published by the Linden-Museum and its partner the Lokschuppen Ausstellungszentrum in Rosenheim, Germany. This lavishly illustrated book includes twenty-four 13 essays by leading scholars aimed at the general public, as well as maps, color and black-and-white photographs, and short descriptions of all the objects in the exhibition. The present volume results from the symposium and is directed at scholars. I would like to take this opportunity to thank my fellow editors–Inés de Castro, Javier Flores Espinoza, Karoline Noack, and, especially, Monica Barnes, who worked tirelessly for over six months to perfect this volume. The fourteen essays presented here range widely in their contributors’ approaches to the Inca. In “Buscando un Inca de aquí y de allá. Los Incas de nuestro tiempo, Alemania y Lima, Perú” Karoline Noack begins with the exhibition “Inka-Könige der Anden” (The Incas-Kings of the Andes) that inspired the conference. When the show opened at the LindenMuseum it attracted a lot of attention from the German press, in part because it was the first European exhibition ever to focus exclusively on Tawantinsuyu, the Inca state. Noack takes her title from a well-received book by the late Alberto Flores Galindo, Buscando un Inca (1986). In it, Flores Galindo examined the political messages that Peruvians have derived from Inca history. Many saw a harmonious utopia of social justice, economic redistribution, and prosperity that could serve as a model for a modern socialist Peru. This contrasts with the negative point of view espoused by Louis Baudin in L’empire socialiste des Inka (1928). In the context of a long-standing debate on the positive and negative aspects of supposed Inca socialism, Noack examines how German museum goers and the German press see the Inca culture as mediated by “Inka–Könige der Anden”, imposing their own political, social, and economic values on what was displayed. Noack observes that Der Spiegel and Die Zeit on-line did not so much review the exhibition as use it as a starting point for the exposition of their own views of socialism, seeing the Incas as a despotic example of central planning. Debate on the positive and negative aspects of Inca collectivism has continued in Peru where, in contrast to Germany, the Inca regime is generally viewed positively. Stefanie Gänger also explores views of the Inca past, in her case concentra ting on Peruvian collectors and the objects they amassed. In “Collecting Inca Antiquities. Antiquarianism and the Inca Past in 19 th Century Cusco” Gänger explores the biographies, personalities, and collection strategies of several elite antiquaries who were members of Cusco’s haute bourgeoisie . Among these were Ana María Centeno de Romainville who acquired a large collection of prehispanic artifacts and hosted a salon that received many famous travelers. José Lucas Caparó Muñiz also established a private museum and salon attended by both locals and visiting foreigners. Cusco antiquaries conducted excavations, studied their artifacts as best they could, expounded on them in their salons, corresponded with other learned people, sometimes presented academic papers, and made iconographic interpretations. By 1900 these collections were being broken up, and many artifacts from them were acquired by museums in Lima, North America, and Europe. In this way the decisions, values, and knowledge of Cusco collectors were incorporated into large public collections that still exist today. Manuela Fischer takes the theme of 19 th century collecting forward by examining the specific case of Adolf Bastian. She describes his policy governing the acquisition of Inca artifacts for the Berlin ethnographic museum. Bastian helped to formulate the concept of the psychic unity of humanity. He wished to demonstrate this by assembling a universal archive of objects that could serve as witnesses to that unity, as well as support a science of humankind. Bastian believed that the Inca empire was harmonious, and thought it could serve as a model for German imperialism. In this context he collected Inca and other precolumbian objects. Eventually he acquired the Centeno collection for Berlin, as well as one put together by José Mariano Macedo, and another assembled by Wilhelm Gretzer. While emphasizing the 19 th century roots of Berlin’s collections, Fisher advocates fresh interpretations in the light of current knowledge and research questions. It is not just museum collections that can be reinterpreted, but also primary documentary sources that have long been available to scholars. 14 In “Visions of the Inca Dynasty. Narrative Styles, Emblematic Dress, and the Power of Ancestors” Ann H. Peters reexamines the series of portraits of Incas, their principal wives, and their captains or war leaders executed by Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala (ca. 1615). There are two principal strands to Peters’ arguments–that female leadership was probably as important to the Inca dynasty as male leadership, and that Guaman Poma was, in part, not just portraying the Incas, wives, and captains as they were in life, but seems to have incorporated the hieratic traits of their mummies, which he may have seen. Monica Barnes’s contribution to this volume is “How did Huánuco Pampa become a Ruin? From Thriving Settlement to Disappearing Walls”. She focuses on Huánuco Pampa, a very important provincial Inca site in Peru’s central highlands, concentrating on the time between its near abandonment in the 1530s and the present. Over the years Huánuco Pampa was put to a variety of uses. It served as a battlefield, a quarry, a ranch, a wildlife sanctuary, the site of a Christian chapel, a cemetery for unbaptized infants, a tambo for muleteers, the last stop on a branch of the colonial postal system, a soccer field, a campsite, an ad hoc garage, and as festival grounds. The main highland road ran through it. It was changed by archaeological excavation and reconstruction and probably damaged by the extirpation of idolatries campaigns. It is rarely possible to ex amine the taphonomy of an Andean archaeological site in so much detail. In formulating their interpretations of Huánuco Pampa, archaeologists must take account of the many changes it underwent over the centuries. In “The Material Remains of Inca Power among Imperial Heartland Communities” Kylie E. Quave and R. Alan Covey examine three communities near Cusco–Ak’awillay, Cheqoq, and and Pukara Pantillijlla, looking for architectural and artefactual manifestations of Inca power. Ak’awillya, occupied during the Late Intermediate Period, shrunk during Inca imperial times as populations shifted. Cheqoq grew under the Incas, while Ak’awillay, a hilltop site, first grew, then shrunk. Quave and Covey note that there is not always increased visibility of Inca architecture and ceramics at sites where documentary sources tell us that Inca influence was strong. There is variability in the occurrence and distribution of canonical Inca architecture and ceramics within sites, perhaps reflecting subtle interactions of local people with Inca overlords. Quave and Covey focus on their own excavations and the architecture they revealed, as does César Astuhuamán Gonzáles in “The Inca Takeover of the Ancient Centers in the Highlands of Piura”. He postulates that Andean social order was developed around networks of shrines embedded in sacred landscapes. He focuses on the Piura highlands where he has conducted survey and excavations, most recently at the site of Ayapata, under the auspices of Peru’s Qhapaq Ñan project. The four largest Inca sites in the region exhibit a variety of architectural forms associated with Inca governance, control, and religious activities. Astuhuamán Gonzáles also discusses pre-Inca sites. Drawing on a variety of archaeological and ethnohistorical sources, he postulates that the Incas gained control over pre-existing religious sites, permitting local worship, while promoting the Inca state religion. David Oshige Adams also focuses on Inca religion, as well as upon economic factors, in his contribution, “Las motivaciones económicas y religiosas para la expansión Inca hacia la cuenca del Lago Titicaca”. Under the Incas, the Titicaca region became one of the most sacred parts of Tawantinsuyu, both a goal of pilgrimage and a mythic origin place. This, in turn, allowed the Incas to legitimize their suzerainty over the area. Such control was necessary to gain access to the wool, meat, fat, transport animals, and dung the region produced. It gave the Incas leverage they could use to control other areas through exchange, and often without the force of arms. Thus, Oshige provides a partial answer to one of the most important questions of Inca hegemony–how could a small group from Cusco acquire and maintain dominion over most of the Andes? Essentially, the Incas had things others wanted–maize, jerky, dried fish, textiles, and minerals, among other products. Constanza Ceruti is another contributor who concentrates on Inca state religion, in her case on the high mountain sacrifices of children and young 15 people known as the Capacocha ritual. For some twenty years Ceruti has been excavating and studying human remains and artifacts connected to this rite. In “Inca Offerings Associated with the Frozen Mummies from Mount Llullaillaco” she discusses what is believed to be the highest archaeological site in the world. Our papers on Inca religion continue with Steve Kosiba’s essay, “Tracing the Inca Past. Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital”. He examines one of the most important Inca rituals, the Capac Raymi ceremony, during which boys become elite young men. According to documentary sources, Capac Raymi played out on the landscape around Cusco. Kosiba has examined the various routes and stages archaeologically and has determined that aspects of the prehispanic past were deliberately evoked through allocentric perceptions, in which places and things were comprehended in terms of their relationships to other places and things. Brian S. Bauer and David A. Reid examine Situa, another important Inca festival in “The Situa Ritual of the Inca. Metaphor and Performance of the State”. Performed annually, Situa was intended to purify Cusco and drive evil and disease away from the Inca imperial capital. Combined with their knowledge of the Cusco area and its shrines, Bauer and Reid describe the Situa rite and map its progress on the landscape. They reveal that its central metaphor was that of warfare, a trope that is common cross-culturally. Steven A. Wernke illuminates the transition from Inca to Spanish colonial rule in “Building Tension. Paradoxes of Power and Place during Inca and Spanish Rule”. He focuses on the mass colonial resettlements known as the “Reducción General de Indios” of Viceroy Francisco de Toledo as they played out in the Colca Valley of southern Peru. Wernke follows Frank Salomon in characterizing the Inca regime as “pseudo-conservative” in that it made profound changes but ostensibly maintained old forms, while the Toledan resettlement was “pseudo-radical” in that, in many cases, it followed policies similar to that of the Incas. Donato Amado Gonzales’ chapter, “Sistema de tenencia de tierras de ayllus y panacas incas en valle del Cuzco, s. xvi-xvii” explores the relationship of royal and non-royal kinship groups and their control of land in early colonial times. Studying published chronicles and unpublished court cases relevant to landholdings, Amado is able to place kin groups on the map and to show how their bases articulated with the interlocking Inca social, political, and ritual systems, and with the Inca road system. Finally, Kerstin Nowack takes us into the realm of counter-factual history with her paper, “What would have happened after the Inca Civil War?” That is, if the Spaniards had never arrived in the Andes, or had arrived a few decades later, would the Inca empire still have existed as a unified whole, or would it have broken up in response to various stresses? Could it even have resisted Spanish conquest? While definitive answers to such questions can never be given, Nowack offers her well argued conclusion that Tawantinsuyu would have remained intact and could, perhaps, have offered greater resistance a little later. Several broad themes emerge in this volume, all relevant to those elucidated in the exhibition. One is Inca religion, a field in which there is much active research. Papers dealing with the ways Inca beliefs were made manifest are those of Peters, Astuhuáman Gonzales, Oshige Adams, Ceruti, Kosiba, and Bauer and Reid. Relationships between settlement patterns and power are also explored by Amado Gonzales, by Astuhuamán Gonzáles, by Quave and Covey, as well as by Wernke. The impact of collections and collectors are analyzed by Gänger and by Fisher. Noack reveals how the Incas have been perceived recently. Barnes shows what can happen to Inca sites from the collapse of Tawantinsuyu to the present, using Huánuco Pampa as a case study, while Nowack offers well argued speculation on what might have happened to the Inca empire had the Spanish arrived a few decades later. Almost all of the authors employ both historical and archaeological sources. We hope that through this book we advance our understanding of the Incas and their fascinating non-Western polity. 16 KA R O L I N E N O A C K BUSCANDO UN INCA DE AQUÍ Y DE ALLÁ. LO S I N C A S D E N U E S T R O T I E M P O, A L E M A N I A Y L I M A , P E R Ú Karoline Noack Buscando un Inca de aquí y de allá. Los incas de nuestro tiempo, Alemania y Lima, Perú 17 Introducción. Museo y utopía andina La exposición “Los Incas, reyes de los Andes” (curada por Doris Kurella), que fuera presentada en el museo etnológico Linden-Museum de Stuttgart (12 de octubre de 2013 a 16 de marzo de 2014) y en el pabellón Lokschuppen de Rosenheim (11 de abril a 23 de noviembre de 2014), en Alemania, fue la primera muestra exhibida en Europa que estuvo dedicada únicamente a la sociedad y el estado de los incas. La exposición y el catálogo destacan por la cuidadosa selección de objetos de extraordinaria calidad, provenientes de varios museos y colecciones nacionales y extranjeras, estatales y particulares. El tema de los incas representaba el estado de la cuestión dentro de un amplio contexto diacrónico y cultural, que tenía en cuenta a las culturas arqueológicas anteriores a ellos y que cerraba con una mirada hacia la época colonial. Fue una exposición con una finalidad narrativa (véase Ramón 2013, p. 41), ya que concluía en una sala en donde la gente que vive en el Cusco actualmente aparecía representada como los “herederos” de los incas. La exposición despertó un extraordinario interés en el público alemán y batió récords en el número de visitantes que buscaban un inca tanto en Stuttgart como en Rosenheim. 1 1 En Stuttgart asistieron 103,000 visitantes y en Rosenheim 159,334 (comunicación personal de Doris Kurella, 30.01.15). El tema de los incas y su supuesta prole en el museo, súbitamente plantea una pregunta que proviene de una afirmación que Alberto Flores Galindo hiciera en la introducción a su célebre libro Buscando un Inca ([1986] 1987). Según este autor, el museo es precisamente lo que le da el último toque a la conversión del “hombre andino” en algo “inmóvil y pasivo” tanto como “singular y abstracto [, . . . un] personaje al margen de la historia, inalterable, viviendo en un eterno retorno sobre sí mismo, al que era preciso mantener distante de cualquier modernidad”. Al mismo tiempo concedía que un museo semejante era un “museo imposible” porque sí tenía una salida, que es la historia. Precisamente es ésta la que busca “las vinculaciones entre las ideas, los mitos, los sueños, los objetos y los hombres que los producen y los consumen” (ibid). La historia que conduce al campo de batalla de “las luchas y los conflictos, con los hombres en plural, con los grupos y clases sociales, con los problemas del poder y la violencia en una sociedad” (ibid.). Flores Galindo encontraba la ideología que vinculaba a las insurrecciones con la “utopía andina”, que en el transcurso de la historia siempre reaparecía, incluso en la década de 1980. Podemos entender la utopía andina como una descripción idealizada del pasado prehispánico, especialmente del estado inca, concebido como una época de justicia social, armonía y prosperidad (Aguirre y Walker 2010, p. XXI). Ella funcionaba “no solo como un discurso sobre “el pasado”, sino también como la base de unas agendas políticas y sociales 18 extremadamente relevantes para el futuro. Diversos actores históricos imaginaron las estructuras sociales y políticas del mundo andino prehispánico–o al menos lo que ellos consideraban tal–como modelo para sus sociedades. La sociedad ideal del futuro venía así a ser un retorno a un pasado glorioso” (ibid.). Una prueba de la actualidad de la utopía andina es la contemporaneidad de Flores Galindo con la “imagen claramente positiva del imperio incaico”, presente entre los alumnos de los colegios de Lima en el casco urbano y en las barriadas en la década de 1980, “tanto de sectores adinerados [. . .], como de los sectores más pauperizados” (Flores Galindo [1986] 1987, p. 20). Independientemente de quienes escriben los manuales escolares, para los profesores y alumnos del Perú la sociedad incaica fue una sociedad justa y distributiva. Por dicha razón, la sociedad incaica constituye “un paradigma para el mundo actual” (ibid.). Era precisamente por la utopía andina, que lo incaico formaba parte no sólo de las discusiones ideológicas sino también de los debates políticos actuales, hasta el punto en que los incas ocupaban la cultura popular (Wekin 1966, citado en Flores Galindo). Esto quiere decir que la utopía andina trascendió hasta el momento en que vivía Flores Galindo y que fue vista por muchos actores como el modelo de un proyecto socialista para el Perú actual. Flores Galindo señala, un tanto al margen, que este fondo explica la continúa popularidad del libro El imperio socialista de los incas (publicado en francés en 1928) del economista Louis Baudin. Anota así que si bien este autor conservador escribió una crítica al socialismo, “quienes en el Perú hablan del socialismo incaico, lo hacen desde una valoración diferente” (Flores Galindo [1986] 1987, p. 20).2 Los incas en un museo alemán: surge allí la pregunta, ¿qué buscaban los numerosos visitantes de la exposición? Aquí no podemos responder exactamente esta interrogante, pero a modo de ejemplo se buscará indagar lo siguiente: ¿qué buscaban los periodistas que figuraron entre quienes visitaron la exposición? Justamente el ya mencionado libro de Baudin–que según Flores Galindo debió su éxito más a su título que a su contenido–aparentemente también tuvo un impacto enorme e ininterrumpido en Alemania, tal como lo indica la repercusión de la exposición. Por lo tanto, este libro es el nexo entre la historia del Perú, representada por la utopía andina de Flores Galindo, la exposición en el Linden-Museum, y los discursos resultantes en la prensa alemana. Puesto que han pasado casi treinta años desde la publicación de Buscando un Inca, se echará además un vistazo etnográfico a la situación en Lima para así sondear las huellas actuales de la utopía andina, en la capital del estado que se considera el heredero del “país de los incas”.3 2 Aguirre y Walker subrayan que “no obstante su título, Buscando un inca movió a los cientíicos sociales, los intelectuales y lectores a que abandonaran la búsqueda de un pasado incaico prístino, sus restos en el presente, o un proyecto de futuro inspirado por sus huellas. Debían, más bien, explorar la apropiación, la recreación y la síntesis creativas de las múltiples in uencias culturales que conformaban las sociedades andinas. Flores Galindo sostenía que era hora de dejar de buscar un Inca y de abrazar más bien el “socialismo moderno, la única forma de canalizar las pasiones y los sueños hacia la construcción de un futuro mejor” (Aguirre y Walker 2010, p. XXVIII). 3 Esta parte se reiere únicamente a Lima y deja de lado la situación existente en el Cusco porque ella es sumamente distinta. Karoline Noack Buscando un Inca de aquí y de allá. Los incas de nuestro tiempo, Alemania y Lima, Perú 19 En el planteamiento de Flores Galindo, el museo funciona como la imagen opuesta de la utopía andina. Mientras que el primero representa la atemporalización o deshistorización del mundo andino, la utopía andina, que brotaba precisamente del encuentro entre los mundos “andino” y “occidental”, simboliza más bien la dinámica histórica, esto es la referencia al pasado y la proyección hacia un posible futuro socialista. ¿Qué impacto tiene el tema de los incas en la prensa alemana? ¿Qué imágenes y discursos se construyeron en este nuevo encuentro del siglo XXI, es decir a partir de la exposición Los Incas – Reyes de los Andes, entre el tema incaico y los medios germanos? Los Incas – Reyes de los Andes en Alemania. Imágenes y discursos en los medios públicos La muestra Los Incas, reyes de los Andes fue presentada como la Gran Exposición del Estado de Baden-Württemberg en el Linden-Museum, el museo etnológico de Stuttgart, y por tal razón estuvo acompañada por un gran despliegue de marketing, hasta el punto en que fue casi como si el tema de los incas hubiese salido en la carátula del semanario Der Spiegel (Arbeitsgemeinschaft Lateinamerika e.V. 2013, p. 65). Con el auspicio de PromPerú, la ARGE Latinoamérica 4 organizó el viaje de los periodistas a Perú para que conocieran “el país de los incas” sobre el cual iban a escribir teniendo a la vista la exposición. Los medios de difusión informaron a gran escala sobre esta exposición incaica, la más grande que jamás se haya presentado en Europa (Pressespiegel “INKA -Könige der Anden”, mayo de 2014). 4 “Arbeitsgemeinschaft Lateinamerika”, Asociación de trabajo para el fomento del turismo. La prensa elogió unánimemente la exposición en términos generales. Lo que llama la atención es que las reseñas que aparecieron en medios reconocidos, como las revistas semanales Der Spiegel (Schulz 2013) o Zeit-Online (Willmann 2013), no son análisis de la exposición misma, de su museografía o de la imagen de los incas. Más bien se utilizó el espectáculo para difundir ideas y fantasías sobre el estado inca que–adelantémoslo– parecen provenir de una época pasada, considerando la producción académica publicada sobre este tema. Basta con mirar las palabras claves de los textos presentados. En Zeit-Online, Urs Willmann se refirió al Estado incaico como un “despotismo perfecto”, un “régimen de dictadores”, la “economía de planificación centralizada”, el “terror de la pandilla dominante”, “soplones”, la “inexistencia de la voluntad y libertad del individuo” o una “dictadura socialista” (ibid.). Los términos centrales de Der Spiegel fueron que los 20 incas eran “más laboriosos, más inteligentes, más vivos que sus vecinos”; que “dispusieron de sinceridad y ética de trabajo”; que “guardaron estrictamente las costumbres”; y que “organizaron una economía de planificación central como si fueran los ‘Sowjetapparatschiks’ de Stalin que inventaron el sistema, pero que ignoraban la tecnología moderna” (Schulz 2013, pp. 149-155). El tono de los discursos es distante y varía entre la ironía y la burla, pero también se desvía hacia un lenguaje propio de la guerra fría. Todos los medios públicos revisados coincidieron en que los incas fueron una superpotencia legendaria, enigmática, misteriosa, fantástica y hasta desconocida. 5 Estas ideas no tenían nada que ver con los objetos presentados en el museo. Aparentemente lo que generó los discursos fue la mera etiqueta de inca. Los discursos surgidos en torno a estas palabras claves sorprenden aún más, puesto que los semanarios son medios consumidos mayormente por personas que se consideran educadas e informadas. Resumiendo el análisis realizado por Schröder, el lector del Spiegel y de Die Zeit (o Zeit-Online) es principalmente masculino, con un alto grado de educación y elevado ingreso económico (Schröder 2013a, 2013b, s. p.). 6 Surge así la siguiente pregunta: ¿cómo explicar la diferencia existente entre la información tan estática, errónea y anticuada sobre la sociedad incaica, las características que tienen los lectores de estos medios de difusión, y la calidad de la exposición del Linden-Museum? Para contestar esta pregunta debemos volver a El Imperio Socialista de los Incas, el nexo entre la historia del Perú, el museo y la prensa. Louis Baudin. El imperio socialista de los incas Las palabras claves en los discursos de los medios públicos alemanes que reflejan ciertas ideas sobre el socialismo, explicitan que el libro de Louis Baudin (París, 1928, y Hamburgo, 1956) puede ser considerado el nexo entre la utopía andina, la exposición del Linden-Museum y los discursos de los medios públicos alemanes. Flores Galindo advertía que el éxito del libro provenía más de su título que de su contenido, pero en el caso de Alemania sería de suponer que los autores conocerían algo más que el título. Pero lo que se esconde bajo el título alemán no es el mismo texto que fuera publicado en Paris en 1928, y al que se tradujera varias veces a la lengua española (p.e. Baudin 1978). 5 Además de las publicaciones ya citadas, los periódicos Frankfurter Allgemeine Sonntagszeitung y Neues Deutschland también coinciden con esta última evaluación. 6 El Der Spiegel es uno de los medios impresos más rico en tradiciones y se publica desde 1947. En 2013 volvió a ser la revista de noticias más prestigiosa del país. Cada semana, Der Spiegel vende aproximadamente 941,000 ejemplares. Alrededor de 6 millones de personas mayores de 14 años leen semanalmente la revista. La mayoría de los lectores proviene de Renania del Norte-Westfalia o del norte del país, y sólo unos cuantos de los estados del este. En cuanto al semanario Die Zeit, éste vende aproximadamente 514,000 ejemplares por semana y tiene alrededor de 1.55 millones de lectores por edición. La mayoría de las veces el lector típico es masculino, pero sus lectores incluyen más mujeres que en el caso del Der Spiegel. Su público es joven por encima del promedio y tiene educación universitaria, son profesionales que trabajan por cuenta propia o como ejecutivos que en todo caso cuentan con ingresos altos, y también proviene en la mayoría Karoline Noack 7 Después de la segunda guerra mundial el editor trajo consigo esta idea de negocio desde EE.UU., donde los libros del bolsillo eran conocidos hacía bastante más tiempo. Su bajo precio revolucionó el mercado alemán del libro: http://www.rowohlt.de/ verlag/rororo, 30.5.1. 8 http://www.detlef-heinsohn.de/ sammlung-rde.htm, última actualización 01.06.15. 9 Prem (2008, pp. 254-255) ya había advertido esto. 10 Por estas reformas el presidente recibió el apelativo de Huiracocha (Ramón 2013, pp. 25 y 26). La constitución peruana de 1920 consagró la protección de la “raza indígena” y el respeto a las comunidades indígenas, pero éstas “siguieron sometidas a la ley del hacendado o al apacible mundo andino de las comunidades libres y, desde entonces, reconocidas” (Matos Mar 2010, pp. 28-29). Formaron parte de esto la fundación de la Sección de Asuntos Indígenas en el Ministerio de Fomento (1921), el Comité Pro Derecho Indígena Tahuantinsuyo (1921), los congresos Indígenas celebrados en Lima (entre 1921-1924) y el Patronato de la Raza Indígena (1922) (Ramón 2013, p. 26). 11 12 Esto se ve, por ejemplo, en que alrededor de 1930, de los miles de comunidades indígenas existentes, solamente se había reconocido oicialmente a poco menos de trescientas de ellas (Ramón 2013, p. 27). Buscando un Inca de aquí y de allá. Los incas de nuestro tiempo, Alemania y Lima, Perú 21 Der sozialistische Inka-Staat fue publicado en Hamburgo en 1956 por la editorial Rowohlt, en la serie rororo. Esta serie, a la que se llamaba “enciclopedia alemana Rowohlt”, representaba el “saber del siglo XX en un libro de bolsillo” (véase la cubierta). La edición contaba con un consejo científico internacional. Esta serie publicó los primeros libros de bolsillo que aparecieron en Alemania.7 La “enciclopedia alemana” fue una de las series más populares en la República Federal de Alemania, y desde 1955 hasta 1981 se publicaron alrededor de 350 tomos. 8 Pero hay una confusión en el título. Según la información legal, se tradujo el título del libro de Baudin (1928) al alemán, más no su contenido. Se trata de una traducción de Les Incas du Pérou, publicado por el mismo autor en París en 1944, que en su versión alemana apareció en 1947 (Baudin 1947). 9 La nueva edición de la “enciclopedia alemana” se creó añadiendo extractos de fuentes históricas, actualizando algunas secciones y proporcionándole un título poderoso. Aunque Baudin no fue el primero que estableció una relación entre el estado inca y el socialismo, sí fue el que más éxito tuvo en prolongar esta idea a partir del punto de vista del liberalismo. Con la publicación de la edición original de L’empire socialiste des Inka en 1928, Baudin se inscribió tanto en el contexto europeo como en el peruano. En Perú, este momento estuvo caracterizado por el Oncenio del presidente Augusto Leguía (1919-1930), el cual vivió una “coyuntura económica favorable después de la Primera Guerra Mundial”, la cual estuvo acompañada políticamente por “una serie de reformas pro-indígenas”–entre ellas la constitución peruana de 1920–para resolver el “problema del indio” (Ramón 2013, pp. 25 y 26).10 Las nuevas inversiones de capital permitieron una “estabilidad de ideologías, de análisis de la realidad nacional, de modernización del país, del camino en búsqueda de un Estado-nación” (Matos Mar 2010, p. 28). 11 Para este fin, el indigenismo de la época planteó una nueva programación política cuyas palabras claves provinieron del “encuentro entre socialismo e indigenismo” (Flores Galindo [1986] 1987, p. 252). Este “socialismo peruano” tendría su base en la comunidad andina, además del supuesto socialismo del estado inca (Mariátegui [1928] 2007). La muerte prematura de Mariátegui interrumpió el desarrollo de este discurso, el cual tuvo también el objetivo de “ir del reconocimiento a los incas al de los indios en tanto elemento central de la nacionalidad” (Ramón 2013, p. 23 véase también Thurner 2012, pp. 202-204). El proceso de reformas de Leguía se inició con mucha dinámica, pero pronto se desaceleró hasta que el tratamiento crítico del tema indígena degeneró en pura retórica gubernamental (Ramón 2013, p. 27). 12 Al finalizar el Oncenio, es decir su etapa conservadora y contrarreformista, la retórica del gobierno subrayaba que el dictador Leguía estaba dando forma a una democracia “que nos aleja[rá] 22 para siempre del peligro de la ultrademagogia, el bolcheviquismo” (El ministro de fomento, citado en Ramón 2013, p. 48). Fue en este contexto que Baudin se insertó. En Europa, el final de la Primera Guerra Mundial no sólo dejó un continente en ruinas, sino que también trajo consigo el derrumbe de la monarquía en Alemania debido a la revolución de noviembre de 1918, y la extinción del imperio zarista con la fundación de la Unión Soviética tras la revolución de octubre de 1917. En este contexto, el libro de Baudin puede ser considerado como una respuesta motivada por la búsqueda de una política exterior agresiva contra la Unión Soviética, contra el marxismo y contra un posible giro a un socialismo peruano en ultramar. Por dicha razón, Baudin retomó el tema de los incas bajo el concepto de socialismo para así ingresar a un debate que hasta el momento se había dado sobre todo dentro del marco de la política económica marxista (principalmente por parte de Marx, Cunow y Luxemburgo). 13 En la obra de Karl Marx, los incas representaban un comunismo primordial. Heinrich Cunow, que sería a quien Baudin más criticaría (además de Mariátegui), trabajó a partir de la obra de Marx y “fue el primero que trató de ubicar los datos incaicos dentro de un contexto etnográfico” (Murra 1978, p. 19). Por último, en su obra “Introducción a la Economía Nacional” (“Einführung in die Nationalökonomie”), 14 Rosa Luxemburgo retomó el ejemplo del estado inca y sus gobernadores “déspotas benévolos”, para argumentar que con el descubrimiento del comunismo agrario–primero como una particularidad de los germanos, luego de los eslavos, los indios, árabes, los antiguos mexicanos y finalmente del “milagroso estado de los incas”–se imponía la conclusión de que éste no fue ninguna singularidad en ninguna parte del mundo, sino más bien una forma general de la sociedad humana en cierto nivel de desarrollo cultural (consúltese Luxemburgo 1975a). Con esta observación, Luxemburgo resumió las corrientes más importantes del pensamiento europeo hasta ese entonces. Esto incluía la idea del despotismo, que fuera desarrollada primero por Montesquieu en el siglo XVIII, 15 y al cual Hegel vinculó con las sociedades asiáticas (Minuti 2012). El origen del concepto de despotismo subraya su relación explícita con el Oriente–siempre presente en el pensamiento occidental–e influyó sobre la contemplación del estado incaico por parte de los autores europeos, 16 lo que es hoy visible en los medios de difusión alemanes contemporáneos. Rosa Luxemburgo hizo de la figura del déspota benévolo una parte de la historia universal, con lo cual la desprendió del Oriente o de cualquier otro lugar de origen específico. 13 Este enfoque fue retomado por el mismo Murra. Cunow (1890, 1896; Murra 1978) desarrolló los conocimientos sobre el sistema de parentesco en el antiguo Perú y demostró la existencia de un comunismo agrario en las comunidades (ayllu), el cual constituía la base de la sociedad inca, pero al mismo tiempo negó que el ayllu tuviese estructuras estatales. 14 Manuscrito inconcluso. Originalmente se planeó publicar la “Introducción” en 1909/1910 en ocho folletos y en forma de libro. Debido a la disputa que libraba con Karl Kautsky, Luxemburgo suspendió el trabajo en la “Introducción” para escribir primero “La acumulación del capital”. Fue sólo a partir de 1916, como prisionera, que volvió a retomar la “Introducción”. Todos los intentos de publicarla en editoriales socialdemócratas fracasaron. No sería hasta 1925 que se publicó el fragmento de este trabajo. Su publicación en 1975 como parte de las Obras completas (Luxemburgo 1975a, 1975b), se realizó a partir del manuscrito ológrafo de la autora, al cual se logró proteger y conservar durante la época del fascismo. Consúltese Luxemburgo (1975b). 15 Montesquieu caracterizó al despotismo no sólo como una forma de dominación política sino también social, puesto que la dominación despótica podía traspasar toda una colectividad (Konrad 2010). 16 Durante el siglo XIX, la discusión de si el estado inca fue una civilización o no, fue una cuestión a la que se planteó en términos de orientalismo. En cuanto al origen de Manco Cápac, el supuesto fundador de los incas, debemos advertir que muchos prestigiosos autores y viajeros europeos decimonónicos cuestionaron su origen “peruano” y lo buscaron más bien en China, en Armenia, Egipto o entre los hebreos. Alexander von Humboldt vio su posible origen en el Oriente, y era aquí donde brillaba el concepto del despotismo oriental (Thurner 2012, pp. 102-103). Karoline Noack Buscando un Inca de aquí y de allá. Los incas de nuestro tiempo, Alemania y Lima, Perú 23 En comparación con este debate, el énfasis de Baudin en el estado inca como un estado socialista, idea en la cual insistiría a lo largo de toda su vida, era más un debate político que académico. 17 En lo que a su marco teórico respecta, su libro no estuvo al nivel académico de la época. 18 A partir del liberalismo político y económico, Baudin reemplazó la terminología del comunismo primordial con la del socialismo estatal. Mezcló así ideales liberales como la centralidad de la persona, la libertad y equilibrio del mercado, la cuestión del alcance de la intervención estatal y el énfasis en el derecho a la propiedad privada, con el conocimiento que se tenía en su época de los incas a partir de las crónicas. De este modo los presentó como un Estado ejemplar y único que logró combinar el poder económico y político, y que tuvo una gran capacidad (“genio de la organización”) para la administración “geométrica” con la “civilización”, el bienestar y un control efectivo de la población dentro de un gran territorio, pero a costa de una tristeza generalizada y de la desaparición del individuo (Baudin 1978, pp. 451, 453). Con esta obra, Baudin se posicionó dentro de las discusiones políticas que estaban en la orden del día, tanto en Europa como en Perú. La controversia en torno a si en el estado incaico predominaba el comunismo agrario 19 o un socialismo estatal, se extendía a nivel político en la discusión sobre las distintas formas de entender el socialismo. Baudin criticaba a otros autores, sobre todo a Heinrich Cunow, por sostener el supuesto carácter socialista de las comunidades que conformaban la base imperial: 17 Murra menciona en este contexto que Hermann Trimborn “durante años sostuvo que no tenía sentido hablar de socialismo en el contexto incaico”, no obstante lo cual “emple[ó] el término en el título de una obra reciente, dirigida al gran público” (Murra 1978, p. 17, introducción a la versión de 1955). 18 En su reseña en la revista Anthropos, Trimborn (1929, p. 1143) resaltó que de los autores que participaron en “la controversia conocida”, Baudin manejaba un extenso material de fuentes. 19 O “colectivismo agrario”, en palabras de Trimborn (1923-24, 1925). Sin duda, la comunidad es una agrupación de apariencia colectivista [. . .] pero se presenta como la resultante de una larga evolución natural [. . .]. Es una formación espontánea y no una creación racional; es un sistema soportado y no un sistema querido (Baudin [1928] 1978, p. 235). El estado, por otro lado, destacaba por su capacidad de racionalización. Como admirador de los incas-gobernadores y a diferencia de los autores arriba mencionados, Baudin entendía su socialismo como la racionalización de la sociedad a partir de la estadística y de la planificación de la oferta y demanda en el mercado (ibid., pp. 235-236). Aunque el estado incaico se sobrepuso a las comunidades sin destruirlas, no era por ello que se le debía entender como socialista. Más bien el socialismo partía de la clase gobernante, que se apoyaba “sobre una ‘superorganización’ económica” que ella misma había creado (ibid., pp. 360, 361-362). Además de la estadística y regulación de un mercado equilibrado, la 24 racionalización de la sociedad también implicaba “una verdadera absorción del individuo por el estado”, aun cuando “el elemento igualitario no es absoluto” (ibid., pp. 235, 237). Pero había una correspondencia entre el “interés del soberano” y el “interés del pueblo entero” que era el bienestar, junto con la aceptación de “un intervencionismo extremado, un verdadero despotismo” (ibid., pp. 235, 237). Baudin llevó a cabo otro debate sobre el socialismo con el escritor marxista peruano José Carlos Mariátegui. En la década de 1920 Mariátegui estuvo en Europa, donde descubrió al Perú. 20 Se discutían entonces distintas formas de socialismo como alternativa política, a las que Flores Galindo señala como afluentes de la utopía andina (Flores Galindo 2010, p. 152). En este debate Baudin se involucró en la discusión en torno a la pregunta de si la autocracia (un término emparentado con el despotismo) y el comunismo, emprendido por el socialismo, serían compatibles o no. Según Mariátegui, “la autocracia y el comunismo son incompatibles en nuestra época, pero no lo fueron en sociedades primitivas.” 21 Según Baudin, la “[a]utocracia y [el] comunismo están necesariamente ligados [el] uno al otro (Baudin [1928] 1978, p. 240).” Esta no fue una discusión meramente académica sino más bien política y se refería a la situación actual, tanto en Europa como en el Perú. Baudin (ibid.) intentaba sonar la alarma con respecto a las “recientes experiencias alemana y rusa”, con lo cual hizo alusión a las revoluciones de noviembre de 1918 en Alemania y octubre de 1917 en Rusia, y ello ante la crisis del sistema oligárquico en el Perú y las perturbaciones que este país viviera a comienzos del siglo XX, sobre todo en el sur andino (Flores Galindo 2010, p. 152). Al negar la relación entre autocracia y comunismo en el socialismo contemporáneo, Mariátegui advertía la historicidad de las formas sociales en los Andes y que no eran restos de un tiempo pasado. Era una combinación de las ideas de Cunow y de su convicción de la posibilidad de que hubiese un socialismo de tipo peruano basado en el ayllu pero como parte de un estado moderno, con lo cual estaría libre de las características atribuidas al despotismo, como la autocracia. Como respuesta implícita a la economía liberal, Mariátegui planteaba que “a pesar de que el socialismo contemporáneo nace del liberalismo, es su antítesis” (Mariátegui [1928] 2007, pp. 64-65). En efecto, la concepción que Baudin tenía de los indígenas de su época era del todo contraria a la de un actor de la historia capaz de resolver el “problema del indio”, y era la antítesis de la propuesta de Mariátegui. Según Baudin, el indígena esperaba todo del estado y no tenía iniciativa propia, porque la herencia del estado inca le había dejado una mentalidad de esclavo y un carácter perezoso, indolente, sucio y también dulce, sumiso, 20 Flores Galindo (2010, p. 181) se refería a las distintas in uencias ilosóicas y políticas, entre ellas las marxistas y las que provenían de la Unión Soviética, que Mariátegui tomó para entender la “realidad peruana”. 21 Mariátegui, citado en Baudin ([1928] 1978, p. 240, p. 237). Baudin citó los 7 Ensayos de Interpretación de la Realidad Peruana de José Carlos Mariátegui, que también fue publicado en 1928 como una colección de una serie de ensayos escritos para diferentes revistas. Karoline Noack Buscando un Inca de aquí y de allá. Los incas de nuestro tiempo, Alemania y Lima, Perú 25 servil y resistente a la fatiga. En suma, según Baudin los supuestos hijos de los incas pertenecían a una “raza sojuzgada y embrutecida”, con “hombres [que] no son ya hombres, son piezas de la maquina económica o números de la estadística administrativa” (Baudin [1928] 1978, pp. 450, 452, 457). Baudin aisló el debate sobre los incas que ya se había llevado a cabo en contextos históricos más amplios. Con su enfoque liberal abordó problemas que estaban en la orden del día, entre ellos el peligro que veía en las experiencias socialistas europeas, sobre todo en la Unión Soviética, opción ésta que según él se podía excluir en el caso del Perú, precisamente por la herencia del estado inca. Esta herencia fue justamente la razón por la cual los defensores de la utopía andina, los indigenistas, pensaron una alternativa para el Perú. 22 Se trata de una versión ampliada en comparación con las ediciones anteriores de París (1944) y de Essen (1947). 23 Capítulos von heute” (El IX, “Die Lehren (El aprendizaje incas). VIII, “Das Indianerproblem problema del indio hoy), y aus der Geschichte der Inka” a partir de la historia de los 24 Völkisch, uno de los términos más importantes del nazismo, se deriva de Volk, pueblo, y su traducción resulta sumamente difícil. En la traducción alemana de Baudin (1944), publicada en 1956 22 con el mismo título de 1928, no hay muchos cambios en comparación con la primera edición francesa a pesar de los avances realizados en el estudio de los incas (Murra 1978, “Introducción a la versión de 1955”). Pero Baudin añadió una parte más extensa justamente sobre el “problema del indio”. 23 En esta parte presentó el desarrollo de su pensamiento después de la Segunda Guerra Mundial y de la ocupación de Francia por parte de Alemania, lo que amplió sus convicciones anticomunistas, racistas y elitistas que hacen de este libro un verdadero testimonio no sólo de la Guerra Fría, sino también de un lenguaje propio del Tercer Reich (LTI – Lingua Tertii Imperii) (Klemperer 1980). Lo que en la edición de 1928 solamente se percibía como un eco–su crítica del indigenismo y con ello del marxismo–, ocupaba ahora un lugar mucho más importante en la edición alemana. Frente a la reciente experiencia nazi en Europa, el vocabulario del autor provoca en el lector una sensación irritante. Los indigenistas aparecen o bien como propagandistas del bolchevismo, como defensores de los pobres y explotados, o sino como nacionalistas hostiles a los norteamericanos. Baudin enfatizaba que no sería difícil explicar el dogma marxista de la lucha de clases a los “mezclados” (Mischlinge) ignorantes y bobos, y moverlos así a iniciar una sublevación (Baudin 1956, p. 72). Y una vez más volvió a debatir con Mariátegui, quien ya había fallecido en 1930. Mariátegui, el “heraldo del socialismo en Perú”, era el responsable de la confusión de ideas que Baudin advertía en el indigenismo y de que se nutriera de influencias “eslavo-foráneas”, marxistas, ideas sindicalistas y recuerdos del tiempo de los incas, además de un nacionalismo exagerado (ibid., p. 73). La renovación del indio debía tener un carácter “völkisch” 24 y el rechazo de los axiomas marxistas era el orden del día. De este modo el temor más grande, en particular, era que estos indios indolentes se convirtieran en proletarios envidiosos y organizados (ibid., pp. 74, 80). Baudin cerraba su libro con 26 una vista de Francia bajo la ocupación de la Alemania fascista, indicando así lo actual que era el tema de los incas. Baudin comparaba a los incas con la “socialización” de la economía francesa que se dio bajo la ocupación alemana y su conversión en una economía dirigida, con un mercado dirigido, un dinero casi inexistente y un sistema de reglamentos como si fuera un sistema socialista (1956, pp. 89-91). Una comparación como esta facilitaba la identificación del socialismo con el totalitarismo. 25 La conclusión finalmente era que la sociedad, tanto la incaica como la francesa de la posguerra, necesitaba de una elite. En esto los incas sí servían de modelo porque ellos separaron la elite de la “masa”, limitando la socialización de la economía sólo a esta última. De este modo la elite garantizaba una fuerza ascensional dinámica sobre la base de una sociedad sólida; esta era la promesa que los incas también guardaban para Francia y su reconstrucción después de la guerra (ibid., pp. 92-93). Si comparamos ambos libros de Baudin advertimos una fuerte coherencia. Ambos estaban claramente ligados a contextos políticos correspondientes equivalentes e intentaban responder a las cuestiones candentes de la épocas anterior y posterior al fascismo y la Segunda Guerra Mundial desde una perspectiva conservadora, anticomunista, elitista y hasta racista. 26 El análisis aclara que las palabras claves en los discursos sobre la exposición inca en los artículos de los semanarios Der Spiegel y Die Zeit provienen del debate que Baudin libró con el socialismo, para lo cual utilizó a los incas, que se encontraban insertados ya en la discusión historiográfica desde la segunda mitad del siglo XIX. Pero no hay ninguna vía que conduzca directamente desde Baudin hasta la prensa en Alemania. Hay un texto más al que podemos considerar como el catalizador de esta forma de pensar sobre los incas. Su autor, Hans-Gert Braun (2004), economista y profesor extraordinario de la Universidad de Stuttgart, y evidentemente un admirador de su colega Baudin, publicó un artículo basado explícitamente en el libro de 1956 y al que se accede fácilmente en la Internet. En este artículo Braun comparó las economías de planificación central de la Unión Soviética y la de los incas, tal como él las imaginaba, partiendo de la idea de que a diferencia de lo sucedido en la primera, en el estado inca ella sí funcionó. Plantear esto en 2004, trece años después del colapso de la Unión Soviética, parece de por sí bastante raro. No habría por qué dedicarle mucho espacio a este artículo, si no fuera porque fue publicado en una revista universitaria. Cierto es que resulta difícil imaginar una brecha más amplia entre la discusión del tema de los incas, tal como está planteado en la historia y antropología alemana e internacional, y lo que Braun presentó como un “conocimiento garantizado” sobre los incas. Resulta sumamente curioso que un colega 25 El título del libro de Karsten (1949) resulta sumamente engañoso y dado que había transcurrido tan poco tiempo desde la experiencia fascista europea, solamente es explicable por motivos de marketing. En el texto Karsten más bien argumenta en contra la idea de un liderazgo totalitario (véase la p. 265). Prem (2008, p. 331) también señaló lo engañoso del título. 26 Este es un tema sobre el cual hay que hacer más preguntas e investigar más, puesto que después de la Segunda Guerra Mundial dicho discurso no fue construido sobre la base del trabajo de Alfred Métraux, una de las personas que inspiró el Handbook of South American Indians, que estuvo a cargo del proyecto de los Andes de la UNESCO, y que además es autor de varios libros, igualmente populares y que fueron traducidos al español y al inglés, pero que cuentan con un discurso democrático sobre el estado incaico (por ejemplo Métraux 1965; Murra 1978, p. 12). Karoline Noack Buscando un Inca de aquí y de allá. Los incas de nuestro tiempo, Alemania y Lima, Perú 27 de una disciplina vecina utilice teorías tan obsoletas para explicar con ellas fenómenos recientes, para los cuales no hace falta ningún análisis adecuado. Lo que sí le salió bien fue captar la atención, como tal vez lo deseaba, porque este texto fue justamente el puente entre la obra de Baudin y las reseñas que aparecieron en los medios en 2014, sobre todo la de Schulz en Der Spiegel. Los incas aparentemente han sido el ejemplo preferido por muchas corrientes ideológicas para probar la existencia de una utopía, desde los representantes de la Ilustración, los teóricos del movimiento obrero alemán durante los primeros decenios de su organización y hasta las primeras décadas del siglo XX, e incluso como influencia de la utopía andina en Perú. Los medios utilizaron esta muestra, tan comercializada, como un espacio de proyección limitado donde seguir las líneas de argumentación iniciadas por la obra de Baudin. Un término constante es el de despotismo, el cual formó parte de las corrientes arriba mencionadas, pero que sufrió una re-significación en manos de Baudin, quien lo extrajo de los discursos preexistentes como “verdadero despotismo”, relacionándolo así con el Oriente, que en 1928 se reconfiguró como la Unión Soviética. Willmann (Die Zeit) lo reformuló como un “despotismo perfecto”, y Schulz y Willmann vincularon el concepto con las palabras claves de Braun. De este modo se fue creando una formación discursiva que ligaba de modo indisoluble las combinaciones del despotismo, el totalitarismo, la dictadura y el socialismo con la Unión Soviética imaginada (el Oriente de antes), esto es respectivamente Rusia y el estado inca. Así, en los medios públicos alemanes se fue desarrollando toda una formación discursiva anticomunista, racista y elitista que usualmente no tiene cabida en la prensa democrática. La sociedad y el estado de los incas quedaron presos dentro de esta formación discursiva. Ni la exposición, ni el viaje de los periodistas, ni tampoco la celebración de los incas como nunca antes se había hecho con ningún otro tema arqueológico-antropológico latinoamericano (Arbeitsgemeinschaft Lateinamerika e.V. 2013, p. 65), lograron revertir esta formación discursiva que se desarrolló en la Alemania de la postguerra. Requeriría otro estudio indagar con mayor profundidad de qué manera, un lenguaje de la guerra fría que contenía los sedimentos del LTI (Klemperer 1980) y que estaba presente en la edición de Baudin de 1956, logró pasar de estas fuentes a los medios públicos democráticos. 28 La imagen de los incas en la Gran Lima contemporánea. Observaciones etnográficas Las reformas urbanas en la capital peruana, efectuadas en la década de 1920, formaron parte de la modernización del país durante el Oncenio de Leguía. En esta época se registró el crecimiento de la población que llegaba a Lima (Ramón 2013, pp. 25, 33). En la década de 1950 se dio el “inicio de la concentración de grandes contingentes de migrantes” (Matos Mar 2010, p. 33). Caminando por las calles de esta ciudad, salta a la vista que hay cierto patrón en su denominación. 27 Las que llevan nombres de incas están repartidas por el espacio urbano de manera sumamente desigual. Si vemos el mapa de Lima encontramos que después de la reforma de los nombres de las calles limeñas (intramuros) en 1861, cuando los únicos incas incluidos fueron Atahualpa y Manco Cápac (Ramón 2013, p. 24), éstos solamente comenzaron a aparecer y a expandirse por la ciudad a partir de los años veinte. Este fue el año en que se fundó el distrito obrero de La Victoria. 28 Su plaza central lleva el nombre de Manco Cápac, el supuesto fundador del estado inca, cuyo origen e identidad fueron tan cuestionados durante el siglo XIX. 29 La estatua de bronce del mismo inca, obsequiada por la comunidad japonesa de Lima, se encontraba en este distrito desde 1926 y constituía una “novedad absoluta” no obstante hallarse en un lugar desplazado–pues estaba lejos del centro–ya que hasta ese entonces se había excluido a los incas de la topografía de la capital (Ramón 2013, pp. 44-45, 48). Además, los distritos más céntricos que cuentan con un considerable número de calles con nombres de incas son Jesús María y Lince, el último de los cuales fue creado en 1936. Pero los distritos con la gran mayoría de calles con nombres incaicos se encuentran en los conos de la Gran Lima, donde vive la gente de las clases populares (San Juan de Lurigancho, Independencia, Villa María del Triunfo, Villa El Salvador, Santa Anita). Esta forma de representación pública de los incas en la capital, está ligada casi exclusivamente a los espacios marginales de la población migrante. En Santa Anita, en el cono este, los primeros migrantes provenientes de Ayacucho y de Andahuaylas, que huían de la “guerra interna” (antes de 1993), reprodujeron una geografía cultural urbana nombrando a las calles con topónimos de su tierra de origen. Podemos hacer otra observación a partir de algunas manifestaciones de antropólogos, historiadores y artistas en Lima. 30 Se les pidió que dijeran: ¿qué es lo que se podría determinar como la “herencia” de los incas para el Perú de hoy? Entre las diferentes respuestas también hay coincidencias, generalmente en torno a dos ejes: 1. La imagen del inca es el mayor legado y uno de los pilares de la nacionalidad peruana actual, que en lugar de Figure 1 Calles con nombres incas en Lima. Elaboración: Jasmin Uhlemann y Lothar Niewald. 27 Agradezco a Jasmin Uhlemann la pesquisa de los nombres de las calles limeñas. 28 Consúltese Ramón (2013, pp. 28 y ss.) con respecto a la construcción de Santa Beatriz y La Victoria, dos barrios socialmente opuestos y segregados, como la nueva Lima. 29 Se buscaba su origen ya fuera en China, ya en Armenia, Egipto o entre los hebreos (Flores Galindo [1986] 1987, p. 32). 30 Agradezco su participación a Susana Aldana, Javier Aldana, Sabino Arroyo, Carlos Contreras, Jürgen Golte, Luis Millones, Kerstin Nowack, Francisco Quiroz, Ricardo Ramírez, Teresa Vergara, Marina Zuloaga y el Grupo El Averno Quilca. Karoline Noack Buscando un Inca de aquí y de allá. Los incas de nuestro tiempo, Alemania y Lima, Perú 29 30 Figure 2 Calles con nombres incas en Santa Anita. Elaboración: Jasmin Uhlemann y Lothar Niewald. Karoline Noack Figure 3 Avenida y Plaza Manco Cápac. Elaboración: Jasmin Uhlemann y Lothar Niewald. Buscando un Inca de aquí y de allá. Los incas de nuestro tiempo, Alemania y Lima, Perú 31 32 dividir une a los peruanos. Es la organización social y política de la comunidad campesina que ha sobrevivido hasta el día de hoy. El legado incaico equivale a la cultura andina y es una fuente de identidad nacional que da a los peruanos un sello propio y diferenciador, y es al mismo tiempo un extenso territorio con fronteras étnicas. Los incas representan la tecnología, los conocimientos alternativos (sociales, culturales, el equilibrio con el medio ambiente), la ética y la moral que se reproducen en las comunidades campesinas y en los migrantes de Lima. 2. Los incas son un sinónimo del fracaso, la incomunicación y de un fallido intento de inmortalidad. Se les debe asumir como lección, aunque parecería que estamos condenados a repetir el fracaso. La admiración que se les tiene se debe a que se les percibe como lo único bueno que ha existido en el Perú, pero no hay ninguna continuidad; esta desconexión tiene como base el prejuicio y el racismo. La mayoría de los peruanos negamos parte de nuestra identidad. No somos un país integrado. La idea de que parece “que estamos condenados a repetir el fracaso” (Luis Millones, comunicación personal, noviembre de 2014) implica que en la historia peruana, la utopía andina sigue siendo la base de la “comunidad imaginada” (Anderson 1996), tal como lo hemos visto a partir de las voces que invocan la nación unida y la identidad nacional; Flores Galindo observaba que identidad y utopía son dos dimensiones del mismo problema (Flores Galindo [1986] 1987, p. 15). Pero la utopía andina está quebrada en el régimen neoliberal actual. En vez de buscar un inca, se está más bien “buscando una Inc.”. El seminario del mismo nombre, según las organizadoras, fue un intento por comprender el Perú contemporáneo enfocando “el neoliberalismo como régimen cultural” (Cánepa, Méndez y Ilizarbe 2013). El emprendedurismo según los medios peruanos es una cualidad innata del incanato (Gisela Cánepa, communicación personal 10.04.14). La paradoja es que al mismo tiempo que se celebra el emprendedurismo del “hombre andino” en el marco del neoliberalismo, se argumenta que éste no necesita del estado, a pesar de que el inca es su encarnación. Se trata entonces de un “emprendedurismo desde abajo y sin estado” (ibid.). Una última observación que quiero mencionar aquí, se relaciona con el monumento al inca en la Plaza Manco Cápac en La Victoria. Este distrito, que a comienzos del siglo XX fue el primer barrio popular de la nueva Lima, es hoy en día, aproximadamente cien años después, el centro del boom económico de los emprendedores. Parte del régimen cultural neoliberal y de su estética es el “‘asalto popular’ de los espacios públicos” (Ludeña Urquizo 2013, p. 160), 31 lo que quiere decir “la masificación del arte público” (ibíd., p. 160) que corresponde al emprenderismo de abajo. Ludeña subraya que nunca hubo 31 El autor contextualiza los motivos de este “asalto popular” dentro de la misma historia peruana reciente (Ludeña Urquizo 2013, pp. 160-161). Figure 4 Pachacuti y Mama Anavar en la Plaza Manco Cápac ©Karoline Noack (noviembre de 2013) un fenómeno como éste en la historia peruana republicana, excepción hecha del Oncenio leguiista (ibíd.). En este contexto, no es casualidad que el mayor cambio en la cultura visual pública se observe en la Plaza Manco Cápac de La Victoria. Es justamente este lugar el que ha cambiado considerablemente desde 2013. Hoy en día, el monumento al inca se encuentra encerrado dentro de cuatro muros de concreto y está acompañado por cuatro parejas incas. Todo eso quiere ser un nuevo “museo a cielo abierto” que costó cuatro millones de soles (alrededor de un millón de euros; Javier Aldana, comunicación personal, noviembre de 2013). Como un nuevo emprendedor-creador, el alcalde inició la obra sin consulta o negociación ciudadana (Ludeña Urquizo 2013, p. 161). 32 Las nuevas y fabuladas parejas incas del siglo XXI, con sus referencias visuales globales, son figuras historicistas de fibra de vidrio. Con Ludeña podemos ver esta creación como una forma ejemplar de una “miseria estética”, una “acentuada degradación [. . .] por el valor de lo público” (ibid.). Ludeña menciona que es “el amparo de un sistema de abierta desregulación normativa desde el punto de vista urbanístico y artístico compatible con el mandato neoliberal primario, por el cual los alcaldes [. . .] están facultados para perpetrar cualquier iniciativa sin control alguno bajo el entendido de que este sistema ‘facilita’ y promueve las inversiones y la construcción rápida de más obra urbana (ibid.).” 32 Esta miseria hunde sus raíces en el “dramático y violento enclaustramiento experimentado por la población en medio de la guerra” [ibíd.] Con la expansión económica subsiguiente y con nuevos líderes políticos que necesitan legitimarse, los espacios públicos urbanos llegaron a ser “la principal caja de resonancia de formas de desembozado populismo y manipulación social y política”, dentro de un “sistema de abierta desregulación normativa” urbanística [ibíd.]. Entonces no se trata de ninguna “creación popular” en nuevo atuendo y con nuevos materiales, sino más bien de un giro privado (del alcalde) hacia el público 34 de las políticas y relaciones económicas dominantes; en suma, del “neoliberalismo como régimen cultural” (Cánepa, Méndez y Ilizarbe 2013). Encontramos una situación y cultura visual contrarias en una galería de Barranco, el barrio bohemio de Lima, donde el artista Javier Aldana expuso sus INCAS en febrero de 2014, con otro inca Manco Cápac y además con el inca Pachacútec. Aquí Manco Cápac fue imaginado como el organizador del pensamiento y Pachacútec como el conquistador del territorio. El artista los representó de modo abstracto, único y peculiar. Su perfil es anguloso y la madera aserrada con cantos vivos. Se notan los contrastes y las contradicciones en una forma fracturada como es el Perú de hoy, pero sin melancolía, nos dice el artista. La “muestra es una reflexión sobre la crisis cultural que nos tiene capturados, que nos impide identificarnos con nosotros mismos y que altera de manera profunda la herencia.” Ella representa la “síntesis de una continua sucesión de aportes culturales y [. . .] el gran legado de una cultura que se mantiene viva. [M]e asisten a la comprensión de lo que una nación debe de ser” (Javier Aldana, comunicación personal, 25.1.14). Es justamente aquí, en este espacio social y bohemio, donde se viene buscando un inca vinculándolo a la búsqueda de la identidad nacional y de modo tan creativo en figuras de madera reciclada, visualmente tan contrarias a las parejas de incas de material industrial en la Plaza Manco Cápac de La Victoria. Se trata de una cultura visual capitalina que se encuentra entre las antípodas del alcalde-emprendedor y la del artista como creadores, entre el público popular del barrio más comercial y el público que cuenta con una educación formal en arte, dedicado más (incluso) al consumo del arte y a la contemplación. Conclusiones Durante siglos, utilizar a los incas en los discursos y espacios públicos, además de en agendas políticas distintas, fue sumamente tentador tanto en Europa como en el Perú. Ellos sirven como un plano de proyección abierto entre la utopía (comunismo, socialismo) y el despotismo (totalitarismo, autocracia, también socialismo). Su apropiación se dio siempre bajo distintos signos, autores y actores, y en diferentes contextos. Como eco de la exposición, en los medios de difusión de Alemania, los incas se encontraron encerrados dentro de una formación discursiva consumida por una elite intelectual y económica. En el Perú, la primera estatua de un inca en la historia de Lima se encuentra encerrada Karoline Noack Buscando un Inca de aquí y de allá. Los incas de nuestro tiempo, Alemania y Lima, Perú 35 desde hace poco en un “museo a cielo abierto”, multiplicada en el espacio hoy céntrico de un público popular y comerciante. La estatua forma parte de un público que considera que la sociedad incaica fue una sociedad justa y distributiva, independientemente de lo que se escriba en los manuales escolares, algo sobre lo cual Flores Galindo llamó la atención hace ya casi treinta años. Lo mismo se puede observar en Alemania pero en sentido contrario, esto es, se describe a los incas en términos de la Guerra Fría y como crítica a la Unión Soviética–y respectivamente a Rusia–, independientemente de lo que los académicos publican. La línea que partía desde los primeros utopistas y pasaba por el marxismo, se interrumpió después de la Primera Guerra Mundial y fue reemplazada por un perfil conservador, y hasta reaccionario, el cual perduró después de la Segunda Guerra Mundial. Este rasgo pervive hasta el día de hoy en los medios de difusión, a pesar del gran interés que el público alemán tiene por la historia de los incas e independientemente del colapso de la Unión Soviética. En Perú están buscando un inca en el emprenderismo neoliberal creando un nuevo régimen cultural, mientras que en la búsqueda de un inca se está guardando una utopía de la nación como fuente de identidad, la que tiene su expresión en el arte, entre otros ámbitos. Esta situación tan ambigua a ambos lados del Atlántico exige la apertura del tema–también en la prensa alemana–hacia la difícil y compleja realidad actual peruana en la cual “el inca” está implicado de maneras multifacéticas, mucho más allá de cualquier presupuesto y certeza que se nutre de un pensamiento anticuado. Es un trabajo continuo en el que deberían colaborar periodistas, académicos y el público en general, tanto en el Perú como en Alemania. 36 O b ra s c i t a d a s O b ra s n o p u b l i c a d a s Cánepa, Gisela, Cecilia Méndez y Carmen Ilizarbe (2013), Introducción: Hacia una comprensión del neoliberalismo como régimen cultural en el Perú , presentado en el Seminario Buscando un Inc. 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Veinte años después , Lima: Fondo Editorial del Congreso del Perú. Métraux, Alfred (1965), The Incas , Londres: Studio Vista. Minuti, Rolando (2012), Oriental Despotism. Hg. v. Leibniz Institute of European History (IEG), Mainz (European History Online [EGO]). http://ieg-ego.eu/en/threads/models-and-stereotypes/the-wild-and-the-civilized/rolando-minuti-oriental-despotism, última actualización: 31.05.2015. Murra, John V. (1978), La organización económica del estado inca , México D.F.: Siglo Veintiuno Editores. Buscando un Inca de aquí y de allá. Los incas de nuestro tiempo, Alemania y Lima, Perú Prem, Hanns J. (2008), Geschichte Alt-Amerikas. Oldenbourg Grundriss der Geschichte , Munich: R. Oldenbourg Verlag. Ramón, Gabriel (2013), El inca indica Huatica. Simbología precolonial e intervención urbana en Lima, 1920-1940 , en: Lima, siglo XX. Cultura, socialización y cambio, Carlos Aguirre y Aldo Panfichi (eds.), Lima: Fondo Editorial de la Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, pp. 21-56. Schröder, Jens (2013a), Print-Analyse: der typische Spiegel-Leser . MEEDIA, http://meedia. de/2013/01/15/print-analyse-der-typischespiegel-leser/, última actualización: 31.05.2015. (2013b), Print-Analyse: der typische Zeit-Leser . MEEDIA, http://meedia.de/2013/ 01/29/ print-analyse-der-typische- zeit-leser/, última actualización: 31.05.2015. Schulz, Matthias (2013), Die Söhne der Sonne , en: Der Spiegel 42, pp. 148-155. Thurner, Mark (2012), History’s Peru. The Poetics of Colonial and Postcolonial Historiography, Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida. Trimborn, Hermann (1923-24, 1925), Der Kollektivismus der Inkas in Perú , en: Anthropos Bd. 18-19, H. 5/6, pp. 978-1001; Bd. 20, H. 3/4, pp. 579-606. 37 (1929), L’Empire socialiste des Inka por Louis Baudin , reseña, en: Anthropos 24 (5-6), pp. 1142-1144. http://www.jstor.org/stable/40446015, zuletzt geprüft am 01.11.2014 Wedin, Åke (1966), El concepto de lo incaico y las fuentes, Studia historica Gothoburgensis 7, Scandinavian University Books, Götenborg: Akademiförlaget. Willmann, Urs (2013), Die Schule der Diktatoren. Eine Ausstellung in Stuttgart zeigt die Pracht des Inkastaats–und wie die Despoten ihr Reich regierten, en: Zeit Online, 02.10.2013, http://web.archive.org/web/20140910162233/ http://www.zeit.de/2013/41/ausstellung-peru-inka última actualización: 31.05.15. 38 S T E FA N I E G Ä N G E R C O L L E C T I N G I N C A A N T I Q U I T I E S. A N T I Q U A R I A N I S M A N D T H E I N C A PA S T I N 1 9 T H C E N T U R Y C U S C O 1 Stefanie Gänger Collecting Inca Antiquities. Antiquarianism and the Inca Past in 19th Century Cusco 39 Many people are familiar with the opulent collections of Inca material culture held at the great natural history, art, and ethnological museums in Berlin, Paris, New York, or Chicago, and have marveled at their extent and the great diversity and exquisiteness of their holdings. Few are aware, however, that many of these artefacts were not collected for or by these institutions in the first place. Rather, many of Europe’s and North America’s great museums are collections of collections, that is, a greater or lesser part of their holdings incorporate private collections formed by the hands of individuals that were later acquired on behalf of these grand museums. It was the owners and makers of these private collections who first sought these things out, categorized them as objects worthy of archaeological or ethnographic collection and study, and arranged them as displays. Many of the private collections that are the foundations of the Inca holdings of Peru’s, Europe’s, and North America’s great public museums today were formed in Peru, in the decades following the Wars of Independence, in cities like Lima and Puno, but above all, in the city of Cusco, the former capital of the Inca empire. Travelers who visited Peru’s southern highlands in the period often noted how common it was among the elite of Cusco to own a collection, or at least some scattered Inca antiquities, things they associated with the time before the Spanish conquest. The landed gentry, the clergy, and the city’s bourgeoisie put antiquities on display in their private mansions, some in separate museum-salons, others spread out in living rooms, as the French traveler Laurent Saint-Cricq, better known under his pseudonym Paul Marcoy, relates, “on the tables and mirror consoles” (Rivera Martínez 2001, p. 362; see also Castelnau 1851, pp. 243-4). 1 This article draws on, and summarizes, parts of the irst chapter of my dissertation, which has also been published as a book, and rewords them for a wider audience (Gänger 2014). One of the earliest, and perhaps most splendid, Peruvian collections of Inca antiquities was that formed by Ana María Centeno de Romainville (1817-1874) in the city of Cusco, begun allegedly as early as 1832, when Centeno was still a teenage girl (García y García 1924, p. 255). A decade or two later, she already owned almost one thousand antiquities, most of them Inca and from the Cusco area–clay pots, vessels, plates, and whistles, some wooden jars and figurines, almost three hundred stone antiquities, over two hundred precious metal plates, adornments, and jewelry, woven tunics made of fine fabrics, and a mummy, wrapped up in cloth (Catálogo del Museo de la señora Centeno 1876). Centeno’s city mansion doubled as a museum and a salon, a meeting ground for learned and polite society. Her parlor attracted and brought together upper-class Cusqueños and the European and North American travelers who visited Cusco during the mid-19th century. 40 Men like the US diplomat Ephraim George Squier, François de Castelnau, or Paul Marcoy, all of whom would publish later on Inca ruins and material culture, met in Centeno’s salon. Centeno was even “kind enough”, as Squier put it, to share both the antiquities from her collection–she occasionally bestowed one or another upon her visitors–and her extensive knowledge about them. An educated woman and a prolific reader, many found her conversation about the antiquities in her collection informed and valuable (Squier 1877, p. 465). 2 Centeno was but one of many who possessed Inca antiquities in the city of Cusco. Her collection was intertwined with a close-knit network of literate and wealthy citizens who owned, displayed, and sought to understand the meaning of Inca antiquities. The foundation of a city museum, the Cusco Museum of Archaeology (Museo Arqueológico del Cuzco) in 1848, conveys a glimpse of the general possession of Inca antiquities among a diminutive provincial bourgeoisie. With the Cusco prefect Miguel Medina, forty of the “most select and important” members of Cusco society contributed “the best Incan pieces they owned” and “their most valued (preciados) artefacts”. The official scribe Don Julián Tupay[a]chi, the Cusco tailor Bruno Bolívar, who had made a fortune as a merchant and moneylender, and Mariano Campos, administrator of the publisher Imprenta República, were some of those who donated pieces. 3 Travelers’ writings retain a glimpse of how several of the donors to the Municipal Museum also displayed Inca antiquities in their mansions. Whereas 20th century archaeology would see mostly male professionals in Peru, the mid-19th century witnessed a number of learned women like Centeno among the donors to the Municipal Museum, as well as among the owners of the more outstanding cabinets. The English geographer Sir Clements Markham was particularly impressed with the Bennet family’s collection. Mr. Bennet, a compatriot of Markham’s, had moved to Cusco thirty years earlier and owned “a great many curiosities”, Inca vessels, stone figures, gold head ornaments, and smooth golden bracelets. It appears that Bennet adopted his learned interest from his wife, Señora Astete de Bennet, “a descendant of Pizarro’s warriors”, according to Markham, “steeped in the traditions and folklore of the Incas, and the traveler’s authority for the sites of Inca palaces” (Markham 1910, p. 288). By the 1870s, other salons, like Centeno’s, doubling as museums and forums for learned debates involving foreigners and locals alike, had emerged in Cusco. José Lucas Caparó Muñiz established his own collection as a museum in 1877 in his Cusco mansion, where 2 On Centeno’s erudition, see García y García (1924), p. 254. The German traveler Gustav Brühl also commented on Centeno’s museum, in a passage that bears close resemblance to Squier’s account of his visit (Brühl 1875-1887, p. 126). Francis de Castelnau published a widely read travelogue, in which he refers to Centeno’s museum, but by the name of her husband, Romainville (Castelnau 1851, p. 244). 3 For the complete list of the 41 donors, see Pardo (1948), pp. 123-4. Stefanie Gänger 4 On the José Lucas Caparó Muñiz collection, see Guevara Gil (1997). 5 For a catalogue of the collection, see Caparó Muñíz (1878). Several of Caparó Muñíz’s notebooks have been preserved by his descendant, Armando Guevara Gil, who was kind enough to give me permission to use them for my research (Caparó Muñíz 1878, 1903). For the similarly diverse proile of English antiquaries, see Levine (1986), p. 13. 6 7 On Caparó’s library, see Hettner (1889). For comments by Caparó’s visitors and disciples, see Tamayo Herrera (1980), p. 137. 8 For the emerging market in Andean antiquities, and the role of forgery in it, see Bruhns and Kelker (2009). 9 For instance, Caparó’s niece, Concepción Saldívar de Palomino, supplied Caparó with artefacts (Caparó Muñíz 1891). 10 On the Montes collection, see Bauer (1992), pp. 2-3; Bauer and Stanish (1990). 11 Collecting Inca Antiquities. Antiquarianism and the Inca Past in 19th Century Cusco 41 it occupied various rooms.4 By 1878, Caparó possessed a collection of five hundred Peruvian antiquities, containing utensils, vessels, and figurines of both coarse and precious stones, wooden queros, textiles, fine ceramic vessels and plates, human busts, metal objects, and wool and cotton textiles. 5 The collection would continue to grow and, by 1919, shortly before his death, Caparó owned more than two thousand antiquities (Caparó Muñíz 1919). Caparó was essentially an antiquary of the mid-19th century, the product of a world that continued to encourage and expect a broad approach and a wide range of interests. Like his counterparts in England, Spain, or France, Caparó concentrated his attentions on the locality in which he lived, but engaged in activities in different areas of study related to the Inca past. Caparó was a prolific excavator and collector of antiquities. He made drawings of the architectural structures of Inca ruins, studied linguistic matters related to the Inca past, and compiled local legends. 6 A lawyer and judge, Caparó worked at night on his studies, in the few hours he could spare from his public duties (Guevara Gil 1997, pp. 170-1). Familiar with the perusal of written documents “of genealogical proofs and ancient manuscripts” due to his profession, his work was based on the material culture in his collection, but also on “a small library”, containing manuscripts, European publications, and “all editions of the Spanish chroniclers and Quechua grammars”. 7 As with Centeno, foreign travelers and local students of “Incan history” frequented Caparó’s museum and often sought dialogue with its owner. Caparó published only very few of his studies in newspapers or journals, but he read out his manuscripts about Quechua linguistics and Inca archaeology in his museum to interested visitors (Caparó Muñíz 1905). Several of the key figures in early 20th-century Cusco anthropology and archaeology would subsequently acknowledge the impact their conversations with Caparó had on them. 8 Incan antiquities were given as presents to one another among friends or family, they were exchanged among the city’s antiquaries, while they were also, and had been ever since the conquest, subject to a local and, from the mid-19th century, an expanding trans-Atlantic market, where they could be sold and purchased. 9 Caparó’s catalogue documents how he received some antiquities as gifts from relations and acquaintances, 10 how he acquired entire collections “formed by a variety of individuals”, among them “the opulent collection” formed by the Concha family (Guevara Gil 1997, p. 172), and how he bartered pieces with other collectors, in particular Emilio Montes, who formed a grand assemblage of pre-Columbian antiquities from the Cusco area between the 1860s and the 1910s. 11 Carlos Bravo, a La Paz lawyer and linguist, sent his collection 42 to Vilquachino to exchange it for manuscripts (Hettner 1888), while the painter Mariano Corvacho offered his small collection of stone pots adorned with snakes, precious stone vessels in the shape of alpacas, mortars, bronze animals, and skulls in exchange for a lithographic press. 12 Pre-Columbian artefacts had long been unearthed incidentally, in construction or during agricultural works, but from the mid-19th century, purposeful excavation became another common means to obtain antiquities in the city of Cusco. Some of the collectors excavated objects from the ground on their own land, often with the help of the peasants on whose labor their estates were invariably dependent. The collectors Montesinos and Quino, the latter a priest, thus discovered objects on their farmland. 13 Antonio Lorena, the owner of a collection of 150 crania from the Cusco Department, had mostly excavated by himself in Ollantaytambo or Hillahuamán by 1908 (Lorena 1909, p. 164), while the Puno collector Miguel Garces, who owned the period’s “largest gold and silver collection” (Saville 1896) from Titicaca Island, including gold, silver, and bronze llamas, figurines, and topos, [women’s dress and shawl pins], needles, and bracelets, as well as artefacts made from turquoise and lapis lazuli (Garces 1896), had ordered digs under his direction (Secretary of the Natural History Museum 1896). In their catalogues and notebooks, Peru’s antiquaries leave no record of whether they paid attention to the finds’ contexts, or the artefacts’ stratigraphic positions in relation to other artefacts in the ground, but it is improbable that they would have. Prior to the 1890s, Cusco’s learned antiquaries, like their European and North American visitors, did not generally admit a chronological depth beyond the Inca past. It was only by that decade that the existence of a pre-Inca epoch and a deep chronology began to surface as a research question in Cusco. In his second catalogue, published in 1892, Montes suggested that some artefacts associated with the Incas might not actually have been made by them, but found in graves and put to new use by them. Even so, he classified most of his collection as Inca. 14 For most of the period under consideration, relative chronology was simply not of great interest to Cusqueños. As the chronicles spoke only of the immediate pre-Columbian history, the Inca past remained central, even exclusive, to historical narratives about the precolumbian period in Cusco. As was the case with Germanic, Celtic, or Slavonic life in European antiquarianism (Sommer 2008, p. 235), the Inca continued to be imagined as occupying a timeless past, with most of what was known about them condensed into one single picture. For comments on Corvacho and his collection, see Hettner (1889a). 12 13 Montes makes reference to these excavations in entry number 1221 of his catalogue (Montes 1892). His assertions about pre-Inca origin only appear in the irst two catalogue entries (Montes 1892). 14 Stefanie Gänger Collecting Inca Antiquities. Antiquarianism and the Inca Past in 19th Century Cusco 43 Cusco antiquaries were, however, familiar with a considerable body of knowledge on Andean material culture, which allowed them to recognize artefacts associated with Inca culture, to choose them for their collections, and to offer interpretations of the pieces’ meanings. Caparó, for instance, not only grouped artefacts together according to their material quality–stone, metal, ceramics, or textiles–his collection catalogue also contained detailed descriptions and a meaningful taxonomy. He had taken up “the scientific, historical and archaeological study of the Incan antiquities, so [the collection] would serve as a key to express the [antiquities’] meaning, in order not to say ... ‘little plate’, ‘little vessel’, as did those ignorant of the objects’ value”, he explained. “It was shameful”, he wrote, that the antiquities in the National Museum in Lima were exhibited “unsystematically, without classification” (Caparó Muñiz 1905). Most Cusco antiquaries corresponded in English or gave academic papers in French, but they were also bilingual in Quechua and Spanish. 15 They knew the things’ Quechua names–uncus, llicllas, mascapaycha–and had interpretations to offer on their past and present functions and meanings. Emilio Montes was aware of the traditional use of keros in pairs, as is evident from a catalogue entry on a “pair of grand jars or keros” (Montes 1892, entries 563-564). He also identified “hunkos” (today usually spelled uncus), men’s tunics, among the ancient textiles in his collection (ibid., entries 801-804). Emilio Montes, for instance, presented his paper at the Chicago Congress in French (Montes 1893) and supplied translations of Quechua lyrics in his catalogue (Montes 1892, 1893). 15 Some Cusqueños engaged in iconographic “readings” of pre-Columbian artefacts, in a quest for references to visual and literary sources. They generally preferred to collect pieces representing motifs, portraits, and scenes, to describe their themes, and seek out their deeper meanings or content. A kero depicting a combat scene between the “royal army and the chunchos” was “of great merit because it revealed the clothes and weapons of those days”; a precious silver topo adorned with human figures worshiping the sun was “useful” because it gave an “understanding of Incan theogony”; while another kero, “a splendid object of wood with paintings and incrustation”, unveiled “the dress and some customs of the Incas in those times of the empire” (ibid., entries 780, 1580). Though Montes was mistaken in attributing the kero to pre-Columbian times–imperial keros are covered with regularized geometric forms that, for the most part, bear no visual relation to objects and beings (Cummins 2002)–his preference for the figurative is characteristic of his time. The collection of Nicolas Sáenz contained colorful and refined pottery and textiles, as well as elaborate metal and wooden artefacts from the coast and the southern Andes of Peru. As with the collection of Montes, in the eyes of their owner, the antiquities bore deeper meanings and contents: a black Virú vessel depicting a snake biting the 44 tale of a lizard revealed the struggle of “evil genies”; a jug from Casma showed death playing the drum, “as if to call for the living”; while a vessel from Cusco bore the image of a warrior, kneeling down, “imploring the protection of the Sun” (Saenz n.d., entries 15, 37, 43). 16 As Montes put it, the “figures” that “adorned” ancient ceramics conveyed to him and his contemporaries knowledge of “the ceremonies, rites and the nature of those primitive generations” (Montes 1892, entry 302). In addition to iconographic readings, Cusco antiquaries also adopted comparative approaches. 17 Montes’ detailed compilations of descriptions of antiquities that had been excavated or found by his fellow antiquaries in Europe, Lima, and Cusco, for instance, were grounded in his belief that the more pieces one juxtaposed, the “wider one’s horizon would be for investigation” (Montes 1892, entry 302). Historians of Peru had hitherto worked “premised upon the imagination and the fable”, he lamented, and it was only “from a comparative analysis, attentive and rigorous, of all the objects” that “the history of those times we know nothing about will undoubtedly see the light with all its splendor” (ibid.). Cusco antiquaries were proficient in diverse bodies of knowledge. They engaged in iconographic readings and comparative analysis, cited Quechua nomenclature, and were well aware of the functions and meanings of the antiquities in their collections. Contrary to what historians have hitherto assumed, the aesthetic recognition of preColumbian materials was not a phenomenon of the early 20th century. 18 While it is undeniable that the prevalent perception of American antiquities as art became an influential discourse in Peru and elsewhere only from the 1920s (Majluf and Wuffarden 1999, p. 23; see also Williams 1985), references to the beauty of Inca material culture, at least, was already a recurrent motif in the writings of Peruvian antiquaries in the second half of the 19th century. Collectors explicitly interlinked, and justified, their praise of the antiquities’ beauty with references to their similarity–in their purity, simple elegance, and exact dimensions–to classical art. Montes, for instance, remarked how some of the bottles in his collection “imitate [afectan] the shape of the amphora the Romans used, disinterred from the ruins of Herculaneum and Pompeii”. In his eyes, Andean ceramics had reached “a state of perfection that equaled that of Greece or Etruria”. They were “identical in their shapes, glazes, drawings and reliefs” to classical antiquities (Montes 1892, entries 468-75). Or, as another observer contended, in their “purity” and “elegance” Inca artefacts could “compete with the best Etruscan vessels” (Zevallos 1897). Montes referred to the objects in his collection as “very beautiful” [hermosísimo] because of the I thank Natalia Majluf for making me aware of this document. 16 On comparative demonstration as an antiquarian method, see Schnapp (2008), p. 402. 17 For a general discussion of the aesthetic recognition of American art, see Kubler (1991). 18 Stefanie Gänger Collecting Inca Antiquities. Antiquarianism and the Inca Past in 19th Century Cusco 45 material, colors, drawings, and the exactness in the dimensional representation of humans and animals. As such, he claimed, the objects resembled the Greek vessels fabricated under the Roman Empire (Montes 1892). Melquiades Saldívar, author of a commentary on the Montes collection, likewise delighted in the pieces’ “elegance and fine drawing of exquisite simplicity”. Recounting the details of a stone mosaic found in Cusco, Saldívar asserted that the precious object “revealed a high level of civilization that makes ... the sons of the sun comparable with the opulent peoples of the Orient, with ancient Greece and the assimilating Rome” (Saldívar, Colunge, and Castillo 1873). As in contemporary European histories of art, the lens of classicism allowed for the recognition of Inca aesthetics and cultural significance, rendering Inca artefacts collectibles and “antiquities” for Cusqueños. 19 See Henrik Karge’s analysis of Franz Kugler’s Handbuch der Kunstgeschichte (1842)–a manual of art history–which included Mexican monuments (Karge 2002, pp. 330-34). 19 It was only following legislation passed in 1892 and 1911 that control of the exportation of antiquities was enforced in Peru. On protective legislation in Latin America, see Earle (2007), pp. 27-64. 20 21 On the sale see the correspondence between the Berlin Museum and Centeno’s heirs (Romainville 1887). 22 On the sale of the Montes collection, see Bauer and Stanish (1990). Various scholars have referred to the purchase of private collections “in the provinces” for the Lima National Museum, for instance, Guevara Gil (1997) and Majluf and Wufarden (1999). 23 The decades around 1900 witnessed a re-distribution and re-location of antiquities from Peru to North America and Europe, and within Peru, from private to state-based collections. The world’s large museums absorbed many of the collections of Inca antiquities formed in private hands, in cities like Cusco (see Fischer, this volume). At the time, public museums in Europe and North America were larger than ever before and objects from all over the world reached them to an unprecedented extent (Alberti 2009; Penny 2002). Several of the most outstanding and prominent private collections formed in Peru were sold abroad around 1900, mostly to Europe and the United States, in the absence of an appropriate state policy to hinder exportation. 20 Centeno’s collection was eventually sold to the Berlin Ethnological Museum 21, Emilio Montes’s to the Columbian Museum of Chicago 22, Nicolás Sáenz’s to the Chilean National Museum in 1897 (Hettner 1889c), and Miguel Garcés’s to the American Museum of Natural History (Bauer and Stanish 1990), to name but a few examples. At the same time, the Peruvian government began to invest more heavily in public collections, the national and university museums, above all, and likewise acquired existing private collections for that purpose. 23 Caparó’s collection was thus to stay in the country, becoming the foundation for the Museo Arqueológico de la Universidad San Antonio Abad del Cusco (Guevara Gil 1997). The sales of these collections abroad, or to public institutions in the country, entailed the end of an era. They are emblematic of the gradual transition from private amateurism to professionalization and institutionalization, but, paradoxically, also its persisting legacy. Peruvian antiquaries did not sell Europeans, Cusqueños, and North 46 Americans “raw material” destined to be processed into knowledge in the “centers”. Their knowledge and expertise was woven into the texture of their collections, bound up with their selection, composition, and order. Every time we visit collections in Berlin, Paris, Cusco, Chicago, or New York, their original owners speak to us through them, grounding our own vision of the Inca past. Stefanie Gänger Collecting Inca Antiquities. 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Garces, Miguel (1896), Inventario, Lima, 11 de junio , in: American Museum of Natural History, Division of Anthropology Archives, New York, Bandelier 1896-31. Hettner, Alfred (1888), Brief an Adolf Bastian, Arequipa, 17. Dezember , in: Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Ethnologisches Museum, Sammlung Centeno Pars I B. Litt. A. (1889a) Brief an Adolf Bastian, Cuzco, 7. Mai , in: Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Ethnologisches Museum, Sammlung Centeno Pars I B. Litt. A. (1889b), Brief an Adolf Bastian, Cuzco, 10. Mai , in: Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Ethnologisches Museum, Sammlung Centeno Pars I B. Litt. A. (1889c), Brief an Aldolf Bastian, Puno, 25. März , in: Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Ethnologisches Museum, Sammlung Centeno Pars I B. Litt. A. Romainville, Adolfo (1887), Carta a Adolf Bastian, Lima, 24 de Septiembre , in: Staatliche Museen zu Berlin, Ethnologisches Museum, Sammlung Centeno Pars I b. Litt. A. Sáenz, Nicolas (n.d.), Catálogo de los objetos que remite Nicolas Sáenz á la Exposición Universal de Paris por conducto de la Comisión Nombrada al efecto por el Supremo Gobierno, Lima , in: Archivo del Ministerio de Fomento, Dirección de Obras Públicas, Rimac pp. 40-110. Saville, M. H. (1896), A Brief Report on the Garces Collection , in: American Museum of Natural History, Division of Anthropology Archives, New York, Bandelier 1896-31. Secretary of the Natural History Museum (1896), Letter to Adolph Bandelier, New York, n.d. , in: American Museum of Natural History, Division of Anthropology Archives, New York, Bandelier 1896-31. 48 R efer en c es C i t ed Pu b l i c a t i o n s Alberti, Samuel J.M.M. (2009), Nature and Culture. Objects, Disciplines and the Manchester Museum , Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press. Bauer, Brian S. (1992), Avances en arqueología andina , Archivos de Historia Andina 16, Cusco: Centro de Estudios Regionales Andinos “Bartolomé de las Casas”. Bauer, Brian S., and Charles Stanish (1990), Killke and Killke-Related Pottery from Cuzco, Peru, in the Field Museum of Natural History , in: Fieldiana 15, pp. 1-17. Brühl, Gustav (1875-1887), Die Culturvölker Alt-Americas . Cincinnati, OH: Verlag von Benziger-Bros. Bruhns, Karen Olsen and Nancy L. Kelker (2009), Faking the Ancient Andes . Walnut Creek, CA: Left Coast Press. Caparó Muñíz, José Lucas (1891), Museo de Antigüedades Peruanas Precolombinas pertenecientes al D.D. José Lucas Caparó Muñíz quien las colectó con afan incesante de 15 años. Cusco: Imprenta de Manuel Florencio Minauro. (1878), Colección de antigüedades peruanas , in: El Comercio (Lima), 15, 17, and 18 May. Castelnau, Francis de (1851), Expédition dans les parties centrales de L’Amérique du Sud, de Rio de Janeiro á Lima, et de Lima au Para. Exécutée par ordre du gouvernement français pendant les années 1843 á 1847, 6 vols, vol. 4, Paris: B. Bertrand. Catálogo del Museo de la Señora Centeno (1876), Lima: Imprenta de la Merced. Cummins, Thomas (2002), Toasts with the Inca. Andean Abstraction and Colonial Images on Quero Vessels , Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press. Earle, Rebecca (2007), The Return of the Native. Indians and Myth-Making in Spanish America , 1810-1930, Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press. Fischer, Manuela (2015) The Inca Collection at the Ethnologisches Museum Berlin. Genesis and Contexts , Monica Barnes, Inés de Castro, Javier Lores Espinoza, Doris Kurella, and Karoline Noack (eds.). Stuttgart: LindenMuseum, Sonderband Tribus 2015, pp. 48-61. Gänger, Stefanie (2014), Relics of the Past. The Collecting and Study of Pre-Columbian Antiquities in Peru and Chile, 1837-1911 , Oxford: Oxford University Press. García y García, Elvira (1924), Ana María Zenteno , in: La mujer peruana a través de los siglos, Lima: Imprenta Americana. Guevara Gil, Armando (1997), La contribución de José Lucas Caparó Muñíz a la formación del Museo Arqueológico de la Universidad del Cuzco , in: Boletín del Instituto Riva-Agüero 24, pp. 167-226. Karge, Henrik (2002), El arte americano antiguo y el canon de la antigüedad clásica. El nuevo continente en la historiografía del arte de la primera mitad del siglo XIX , in: Herencias indígenas, tradiciones europeas y la mirada europea. Actas del Coloquio de la Asociación Carl Justi y del Instituto Cervantes Bremen, del 6 al 9 de abril de 2000, Helga von Kügelgen (ed.), Frankfurt am Main: VervuertIberoamericana, pp. 315-34. Kubler, George (1991), Esthetic Recognition of Ancient Amerindian Art , New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Levine, Philippa (1986), The Amateur and the Professional. Antiquarians, Historians and Archaeologists in Victorian England, 18381886 , Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lorena, Antonio (1909), Algunos materiales para la antropología del Cuzco, in: Boletín de la Sociedad Geográfica de Lima 25(3), pp. 164-73. Stefanie Gänger Majluf, Natalia and Luis Eduardo Wuffarden (1999), Elena Izcue. El arte precolombino en la vida moderna , Lima and Madrid: Museo de Arte de Lima. Markham, Clements (1910), The Incas of Peru , London: Smith, Elder, & Co. Montes, Emilio (1893), The Antiquity of the Civilization of Peru . In: International Congress of Anthropology, C. Staniland Wake (ed.), Chicago, IL: The Schulte Publishing Company, pp. 95-99. (1892), Catálogo del Museo de Antigüedades Peruanas e Inkaikas de la Propiedad del Dr. D. Emilio Montes y de Aldasábal Vasquez de Velasco , Cusco: Imprenta Manuel F. Minauro. Pardo, Luis A. (1948), Primer centenario del Museo Arqueológico de la Universidad del Cuzco , in: Revista del Instituto y Museo Arqueológico de la Universidad Nacional del Cuzco 12, pp. 121-34. Penny, Glenn H. (2002), Objects of Culture Ethnology and Ethnographic Museums in Imperial Germany , Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. Rivera Martínez, Edgar (ed.) (2001), Paul Marcoy. Viaje a través de América del Sur , Collecting Inca Antiquities. Antiquarianism and the Inca Past in 19th Century Cusco Lima: Instituto Francés de Estudios Andinos (IFEA). Saldívar, Melquiades, Angel Enrique Colunge, and Pablo del Castillo (1873), Antigüedades peruanas , in: El Correo del Perú, 1 February, pp. 38-39. Schnapp, Alain (2008), B etween Antiquarians and Archaeologists. Continuities and Ruptures , in: Tim Murray and Christopher Evans (eds.), Histories of Archaeology. A Reader in the History of Archaeology, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 392-405. Sommer, Ulrike (2008), Choosing Ancestors. The Mechanisms of Ethnic Ascription in the Age of Patriotic Antiquarianism (1815-1850) , in: Nathan Schlanger and Jarl Nordbladh (eds.), Archives, Ancestors, Practices. Archaeology in the Light of its History, New York: Berghahn Books, pp. 233-45. Squier, Ephraim George (1877), Peru. Incidents of Travel and Exploration in the Land of the Incas . London: Macmillan & Co. Tamayo Herrera, José (1980), Historia del indigenismo cuzqueño. siglos XVI-XX , Lima: Instituto Nacional de Cultura. Williams, Elizabeth A. (1985), Art and Artifact at the Trocadéro. Ars Americana and the 49 Primitivist Revolution, in: George W. Stocking (ed.), Objects and Others. Essays on Museums and Material Culture, Madison, WI and London: University of Wisconsin Press, pp. 146-66. Zevallos, Rosendo A. (1897), Exposición departamental , in: El Comercio (Cusco), 24 July. 50 MANUELA FISCHER T H E I N C A C O L L E C T I O N AT T H E E T H N O LO G I S C H E S M U S E U M B E R L I N . GENESIS AND CONTEXTS Manuela Fischer The Inca Collection at the Ethnologisches Museum Berlin. Genesis and Contexts 51 The Utopian Empire of the Inca “In the Peruvian Cordillera it was the beneficent appearance of the Inca, who gathered the dispersed inhabitants of the mountains under a civilized rule…. The height of development these cultural states had reached holds great interest for historical studies, as they had the opportunity to form their nationalities in undisturbed isolation. The bloom faded soon after the discovery [of the New World] under the pressure of a narrow fanaticism, and the few remains of their greatness are all the more precious”.1 1 „Auf der peruanischen Cordillere war es die segensreiche Erscheinung des Inca, der die zerstreuten Bergbewohner unter einer gesitteten Regierungsform vereinigte…. Die Höhe der Entwicklung zu der diese Culturstaaten gelangt waren, bietet für die Geschichtsforschung ein großes Interesse, da sie in ungestörter Abgeschlossenheit ihre Nationalität hatten durchbilden können. Die Blüthe derselben welkte bald nach der Entdeckung unter dem Druck eines beschränkten Fanatismus dahin, und die wenigen Reste, die als alleinige Zeugen ihrer Größe geblieben sind, müssen uns deshalb um so werthvoller sein (Bastian 1873, p.1)“. 2 „Cuzco bildete bald den Mittelpunkt eines mächtigen Reiches. Alljährlich berief dahin der Inca die Söhne des Sonnengeschlechts; segenbringend und beglückend durchzog er die Länder, an der Spitze eines glänzenden Heeres, das stets seine heilige Person umgab, aber nur selten der Wafe bedurfte…. Ueberall fügten sich die wilden Stämme seinem sanften Joche, sie zerbrachen ihre grimmen Götzen, sie thaten hinweg mit den blutigen Menschenopfern und wandten sich dem reinen Cultus der Sonne zu (Bastian 1873, p.5)“. 3 [Tradición] „utópica-liberal en la que el imperio inca era presentado como una antigua gran civilización ilustrada“ (Villarías Robles 2005, p. 116; see also Flores Galindo 2010). Cusco soon formed the center of a powerful empire. Every year the Inca convened the sons of the sun lineage. Benevolent and happy, he crossed the lands, at the head of a magnificent army, which surrounded his sacred person, but which only rarely needed to make use of their weapons. Everywhere the ierce tribes submitted themselves to his gentle yoke. They broke their ferocious idols. They stopped their bloody human sacrifice and turned to the pure cult of the sun (my emphasis).” 2 In Bastian’s words we find already expressed what will be the impetus for the future program which he will realize only some decades later – the idea of the Americas as a laboratory for the study of the history of humankind, possible because of its supposed geographical “undisturbed isolation”, the utopian vision of an ideal state under the reign of the Inca,3 the peaceful conquest by the Inca as opposed to the “narrow fanaticism” of the Spanish conquest, and the imposition of a religion of the “pure cult of the sun” (as opposed to the Catholic religion). Historically, this point of view is pronounced in the Kulturkampf, a confrontation between the state and the Catholic Church in imperial Germany during the 1870s. This process finally led to the separation of church and state, but it was also a confrontation between the cosmopolitan, Protestant, modern (industrialized) Germany in opposition to the feudal, Catholic, and rural population. Bastian himself was cosmopolitan (his family were shipowners based in Bremen), as well as urban and Protestant (Fischer et al. 2007). This tradition, which presented the Inca state as a utopia, as opposed to the “barbarism” before and after the Inca era, was based on the “leyenda negra”, which emphasized the cruelty of the Spanish conquest, as transmitted through the translations of colonial documents and the works of systhesis by Bastian’s contemporary, the British historian Sir Clements R. Markham (1830-1916) (Markham 1873, 1892, 1911). 52 Bastian goes on with his vision: “There is no other people in the history of the world that had suffered such a hard fate as the Peruvians. No other people were surprised by misfortune so immediately and undeservedly. They lived peacefully and without worries in the wide cordillera beneath the shelter of the Inca empire. From far-away Cusco their branches spread to the coast and the montaña, to Quito and Chile. Careful guardians watered its roots and they were able to protect themselves from every shake up. Suddenly, without an augury of an approaching storm, a stroke of lightening smashed the mighty trunk, when it was just unfolding to its full growth, and destroyed in a moment the work of a century and drove mature Indians from the order and decorum of wellregulated civic life back to the desert of their former barbarism”. 4 Markam’s work not only influenced Adolf Bastian, but, through Lewis Henry Morgan, it also had a great impact on the work of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, and, even in the following generation, on Heinrich Cunow (1862-1936) (Cunow 1896, 1937), Adolphe Bandelier (1840-1914), and Max Uhle (1856-1944). The controversy between Markham and the contemporaneous Spanish historian, Marcos Jiménez de la Espada (1831-1898), who took a more critical approach to the Inca conquest, divided the Americanist community at the end of the 19th century (Rowe 1963; cf. Villarías Robles 2005, p. 116). Even Jiménez de la Espada himself openly complained about not being considered, when he mentions that an erroneous interpretation by Markham had been accepted by the “influential Adolf Bastian” (Rowe 1963, p. 194; Villarías Robles 2005, p. 137). Bastian’s roots in the Romantic philosophy of early German anthropology (Köpping [1983] 2005) obviously favoured his collecting policy in the second half of the 19th century. As we have seen earlier, related to Inca collections, Bastian insists, “the few remains of their greatness are all the more precious” (Bastian 1873, p. 1). However, the influence of the Enlightenment also can be seen in the formulation of Bastian’s collecting policy in the search for generalized statements of the “elementary ideas” (Elementargedanken) based on a general archive of material culture, “An unconditional 4 „Wohl kein anderes Volk der Weltgeschichte hat ein so hartes Schicksal zu beklagen gehabt, als das der Peruaner, über kein Anderes brach das Unglück so plötzlich, so unmotiviert herein. Friedlich und unbekümmert lebten die Völker der weiten Cordillera unter dem schützenden Schatten des Incareiches. Fernhin breitete es von Cuzco seine Äste über die Küste und die Montaña, nach Quito und Chili, sorgsame P eger begossen seine Wurzeln und wußten sich vor jeder Unbilde zu wahren. Da, ohne ein Vorzeichen des nahenden Sturmes, fährt ein Blitzstrahl aus heiterem Himmel und zerschmettert den mächtigen Stamm, als er sich gerade zu seinem vollsten Wuchse entfalten wollte, zerstörte in einem Augenblicke das Werk der Jahrhunderte und scheuchte die unter Ordnung und Sitte zum geregelten Staatsleben erwachsenden Indianer in die Wüste ihrer früheren Barbarei zurück (Bastian 1873, p. 13)“. Manuela Fischer The Inca Collection at the Ethnologisches Museum Berlin. Genesis and Contexts 53 prerequisite is the complete survey of the whole mental creations of humankind through time and space, geographical variations and historical influences” (Bastian 1893-1894, vol. 1, p. 14). 5 „In ‚conditio sine qua non‘ wird der Gesammtüberblick des Menschengeschlechts verlangt, durch Raum und Zeit, nach geographischen Wandlungen (wie umschrieben) und die historischen Phasen hindurch (in cultureller Entwicklung (Bastian 1893-1894, vol. 1, p. 14)“. 5 6 „Dem Gedächtnisse Alexander’s von Humboldt widmet diese psychologischen Erörterungen, deren Bearbeitung durch die wohlwollenden Worte ermuthigt wurde, womit der vom Leben Scheidende ihre ersten Ausführungen noch entgegennahm (Bastian 1860; I)“. 7 Bastian irst worked as an assistant at the Ethnographische Sammlung as a collaborator of Leopold von Ledebur. From 1876 he was director of the Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde, which he had founded three years earlier. 8 „Ein übermüthiger, aber überall als Consequenz des Egoismus wiederkehrender Stolz hat lange den Europäer verleitet, sich als Ideal des Menschen anzusehen, auf alle anderen Zeiten verachtend herabzublicken und jedes Volk, das verschiedene Ansichten aus seinem Gesellschaftsleben zu gewinnen wagte, schon deshalb zu verdammen. Er denkt weder an die weiten Continente, die noch den Globus bedecken, und wo unzählige Völker ihre selbständigen Culturen entwickelten; er erinnert sich nicht der vielen glänzenden Geschichtsepochen, die entstanden und vergingen, wenn noch kein Lichtstrahl der Civilisation in die Barbarei seiner Wälder gedrungen war (Bastian 1860, vol. 1, p. 230)“. There two opposed currents of thought merge, as Klaus-Peter Köpping states in relationship to this ambitious program of creating the archive of humanity which could bridge “Two seemingly incompatible epistemological paradigms: the subjective and the objective, the comparative and the unique, the inner view and the outside analysis, the general and the particular” (Köpping 1995, p. 75). Only shortly after Bastian’s return to Europe after travelling for eight years around the world as a ship’s doctor his programmatic work Der Mensch in der Geschichte. Zur Begründung einer psychologischen Weltanschauung (Man in History. The Foundation of a Psychological World-View) was published with a dedication to Alexander von Humboldt (1769-1859). 6 The world-view expressed in this book equates the natural and the moral (human) orders. Both Humboldt and Bastian dedicated their lifelong research to these interdependencies to understand the rules of a (harmonious) cosmos. Bastian adapted to the field of humanities the methods of the natural sciences and the empirical studies that he practiced on his long travels (Köpping 2005, p. 78). Bastian’s conviction of the “psychic unity of humankind” was considered by his contemporaries to be an important question (Taylor 1905) in a political sense, but it was, first of all, the basis of an ambitious program as well as the basis of the “science of humankind” (Wissenschaft vom Menschen) in a liberal tradition. 7 This program contributed to the universal mapping initiated in the early 19th century (Köpping 2005, p. 29; Pratt 1992). “Above all, as a consequence of egotism and a reoccurring, arrogant pride, the European had long been induced to see himself as the ideal man, despising other times, and looking down on other people who dared to view different ideas about their society with sympathy. For this reason he condemns them. Neither does he think about the wide continents that cover the globe, where countless peoples developed their independent cultures, nor does he remember the many brilliant historical ages, the rising and passing away, when no beam of the light of civilization had penetrated their barbarian forests“ (Bastian 1860, vol. 1, p. 230). 8 54 Strategies for the Acquisition of Inca Collections Bastian began his career 1867 at the Ethnographische Sammlung which, for more than a decade (since 1856) had been shown in the New Museum (Neues Museum) under the direction of Leopold von Ledebur. 9 In 1869 Bastian was appointed assistant to the director (Direktorial-Assistent) and, during the same year, together with Rudolf Virchow and other scholars, he founded the Berlin Society of Anthropology, Ethnology and Prehistory (BGAEU) and the associated journal, the Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, which became a forum of exchange for anyone who was interested in joining the BGAEU (Pohle and Mahr 1969; Quijada 2005, pp. 193-212). The ambitious program Bastian pursued consisted in the foundation of the Museum of Ethnology (Ethnologisches Museum) as an autonomous “Universal Archive of Humanity” and the institutionalization of anthropology as an academic science at the Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universität in Berlin (now the Humboldt-Universität). The earliest collections recorded in the catalogues of the Ethnologisches Museum are not from the Andean highlands, but are more like souvenirs gathered by members of the Prussian Navy (Preußische Seehandlung) around the 1830s. It is only with Adolf Bastian’s journey to the Americas in 1876 that the collection of Inca artefacts was initiated. One of the main objectives of this travel to Peru in 1875 was to secure the collection of Doña María Ana Centeno (1816-1874) in Cusco for the Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde in Berlin. In her lifetime she resisted the sale of her collection, but her heirs seemed willing to sell, so Bastian decided to travel to Peru immediately after Doña María Ana’s death (Gänger 2014). “The most important reason for this voyage in 1875 was the chance to secure the well known, and long famous archaeological collection owned by Doña María Ana Centeno for the Berlin Museum. She had ceaselessly worked to complete it, but was unapproachable for any sale. After her death in 1874 her heirs seemed willing to sell” (Bastian 1889, vol. 3, p. 73). 10 The prices on the “archaeological market” had already risen and, when Bastian arrived in Lima, he considered them out of reach for the Berlin Museum. This situation was caused by railroad engineers from the United States who collected for their hometown museums, and by wealthy Peruvians. This gold flood (Goldfluth) of the previous years 9 In the 17th century the Kunstkammer was housed in the Berliner Stadtschloss. From 1856 the collection, which was named the Ethnographisches Museum, was exhibited in the Neues Museum (in a space totaling 750 square meters) together with the Egyptian and prehistoric collections. In 1873 the Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde was founded. In 1876 Bastian became the director. Then a new building was constructed at the Königgrätzer Straße (today the Stresemannstraße), which opened to the public in 1886 (Westphal-Hellbusch 1973). 10 „Der nächste Anlaß zu der im Jahre 1875 angetretenen Reise bildete die Aussicht, dass die allbekannte und altberühmte, aber bisher Ankaufsverhandlungen unzugängliche Alterthumssammlung in Cuzco, die im Besitz der Doña Maria Ana Centeno durch deren unausgesetzte Thätigkeit mehr und mehr vervollständgt war, vielleicht für das Berliner Museum gesichert werden möchte, da mit ihrem, im Jahre 1874 erfolgten, Tode die Erben einer Veräußerung nicht abgeneigt schienen“ (Bastian 1889, vol. 3, p. 73). Manuela Fischer The Inca Collection at the Ethnologisches Museum Berlin. Genesis and Contexts 55 Figure 1 Adolf Bastian at the age of 34 after he returned from his irst voyage (1850-1858). Wood engraving by Adolf Neumann (Illustrierte Zeitung, Leipzig, vol. 35, 1860, 219-222). 11 „Die Aussichten schienen damals nicht sehr günstig zu liegen, da das Aufstellen von Alterthümern eine Art Modesache werden zu wollen schien und sie so, bei der mehrfachen Nachfrage, auf allen seiten festgehalten wurden. Die americanischen Ingenieure, die beim Eisenbahnbau beschäftigt, die Funde aus erster Hand zu erhalten p egten, sam­ melten meistens für die Schulmuseen ihres Heimathsorte’s und in Lima hatten manche der während der Gold uth der letztvergangenen Jahre in unerschöp icher Reichthumsquelle schwimmenden Banquier’s und Kau eute unberechenbare Lieb­ haberpreise für ausgewählte Stücke bezahlt, deren dadurch übermäßig hinausgeschraubte Preisforderungen zu zahlen um so bedenklicher schien, weil sich bei der voraussichtichen Reaktion umgekehrt wieder der Markt mit einem „embarras de richesse“ in Angeboten aus den Trümmern jener dann zerstreuten Sammlungen überschwemmen mag. Auch bei den Einheimischen inden sich Privatsammlungen; die eine, besonders durch Gegenstände aus kostbarem Metall werthvoll, in den Händen eines Bankdirector’s, die andere einem Arzte gehörig, einem leidenschaftlichen Sammler, der sich nur schwer von einem seiner Stücke getrennt haben würde, und dann die bekannte Conde Marin’s (Bastian 1878, vol. 1, pp. 47­48)“. 12 In total Bastian stayed in Peru from July, 4th to July, 21th 1875, and September 4th to October 15th 1875. made purchases impossible. 11 Bastian decided to leave Peru and go on to Colombia to collect the more accessible material from the Muisca in the central highlands and the Cauca Valley (Bastian 1878, vol. 1, p. 47; Bastian 1889, BIII, II. Abtheilung, Nachschrift, p. 73). As he only stayed two months in Peru 12, Bastian could only purchase a few objects and receive some gifts. Most of the nearly 2000 South American objects gathered by Bastian stem from already extant private collections. There was, for example, the nearly forgotten collection of Manuel B. Ferreyros (1793-1872), previously mentioned by Marcos Jiménez de la Espada, gathered on his journey in Peru with the Spanish expedition “Comisión Científica del Pacífico” (1862-1866) (López-Ocón 2000, figure 47). 56 However, it was the ownership of the collection of Doña María Ana Centeno de Romainville 13 which became, in the words of Bastian, “a kind of vital question” for the museum in Berlin. “For future studies of American archaeology (in particular, and first of all, Peruvian) to own this collection became a kind of vital question because it stemmed not only from the actual capital of the Inca in the sierra, but from the seat of the dynasty, while the museum collections formed part of the conquered empires at the time of the conquest.” 14 It is the provenance of the artefacts from the “actual capital of the Inca”, which made them so special. However, it would take Bastian more than twelve years of insistence and the help of the German Embassy in Peru to get the Centeno collection to Berlin.15 The collection was purchased in 1888 for the price of 48,000 marks. 16 (Acta Centeno, EMB: 075/88, letter from Herrn Emmel Hermanos & Comp., Arequipa, dated 15.11.1888 to Director General of the Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde in Berlin). In the meantime, José Mariano Macedo (1823-1894), a well known medical doctor in Lima, professor at the faculty of medicine of the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, founder and president of the Peruvian Medical Society (Sociedad de Medicina en Perú) in 1881, offered his collection, which he considered to be menaced by the War of the Pacific (1879-1884). 17 In a letter sent to the director of the Berlin Museum, Macedo refers to the current events of his day, calling them “los desgraciados acontecimientos de mi país” (the unfortunate events of my country), but, at the same time, he also exerts pressure on those who were potentially interested, by threatening a public sale of his collection. 14 13 For biographies of María Ana Centeno, see: Clorinda Matto de Turner, María Ana Centeno de Romainville http://www. cervantesvirtual.com/servlet/Sirveobras/ 06920623155758651932268/p0000003.htm. (retrieved 22 January 2015; Gänger 2014). „Und für das künftige Studium der americanischen (im Besonderen zunächst der peruanischen) Alterthumskunde war der Besitz dieser Sammlung als eine Art Lebensfrage zu betrachten, weil sie aus dem eigentlichen Herrschersitz der Inca, aus der Sierra nicht nur, sondern dem Sitz der Dynastie selber stammte, während die sonst in den Museen beindlichen Sammlungen vorwiegend den zur Zeit der Entdeckung einverleibten Reichen des Küstengebietes anzugehören p egen“ (Bastian 1889, vol. 3, p. 74). 15 According to the biographical data provided by Clorinda Matto de Turner (1890, p. 200) María Ana Centeno was born on the 26th of July, 1816. She was the daughter of Anselmo Centeno who fought in the War of Independence, held various political oices, and was nominated councilor, prefect, and general commander of the department. Later he held the oice of the Director and founder of the irst mint in Peru. María Ana Centeno married the merchant Pedro Romainville in 1842 and had two sons. She was widowed in 1847. In 1854 she purchased the Pucuto inca where she was living. Her archaeological collection was already famous during her lifetime. Various scientiic travelers studied it, among them the Count of Castelnau and Paul Marcoy, sent by the French Government. http://www.cervantesvirtual.com/servlet/ SirveObras/06920623155758651932268/ p0000003.htm 16 „Sammlung Centeno ist in gutem Zustand angekommen, Kaufpreis 48,000 mark. Ihre Rechnung ist von Herrn Isidor Richter am 30.10.1888 an Herrn Gerhard Dauelsberg in Hamburg gezahlt worden. Es sind Zinsen in Höhe von 140 Mark angefallen“ (Acta Centeno, EMB: 075/88, letter from Herrn Emmel Hermanos & Comp., Arequipa, dated 15.11.1888 to Director General of the Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde in Berlin). 17 (EMB, Acta Macedo, o. newspaper clipping: De la sección „El Día” de la Opinion Nacional del 17. De agosto de 1874). Macedo was in Berlin and participated in the meeting of the BGAEU during which the zoologist Alfred Nehring expressed thanks for the donation of mummiied dogs for his comparative studies. These complemented material collected by Wilhelm Reiss and Alphons Stübel at Ancón (Nehring 1888). While in Peru Bastian had the opportunity to visit the Macedo collection in Lima. In his correspondence from Paris, Macedo recalled the visit and insisted that his collection had increased and been improved considerably since then (EMB, Acta Macedo, s.n., carta Macedo a Bastian, Paris, 21 julio 1881). Manuela Fischer 18 ALEMANIA Para el Sr. A. Bastian, Paris, julio 21 de 1881 Muy señor mío de mis respetos: He recibido su estimable carta del 19 y al contestarla puedo indicarle que los desgraciados acontecimientos de mi país y el temor de que mi colección de antigüedades peruanas, que tantos sacriicios me ha costado, hubiera caído en poder de enemigos, me ha obligado a hacer este viaje para exponerla en Paris y en Londres y sólo en el caso de que una Nación o un capitalista me pague lo que estimo por ella, me resolvería a venderla íntegra. Si no encuentro quién me la pague bien estoy resuelto a separar aquellos objetos que no son de facil adquisición y el resto, por el mes de Octubre, proponerla en venta pública (EMB, Acta Macedo, s.n. carta de Macedo a Bastian, Paris, 21 julio 1881). 19 Macedo refers to photographs of his collection taken by M. Castillo for the publication of Charles Wiener’s Pérou et Bolivie (1880). Categories include: Localités diverses (various locations) (225-1209), Objets en bois (wooden objects) (1210-1321), Objets en pierre (stone objects) (1322-1372), Objets en cuivre (leather objects) (1373-1421), Objets en argent (silver objects) (1422-1460), Objets en or (gold objects) (1461-1464), Objets en nacre (shell objects) (1466-1468), Tissus (fabrics) (1469-1505), Momies (mummies) (15061513), Objets provenant des tribus d’Indiens sauvages de Chanchamayo (objects from the savage Indians of Chanchamayo) (1514-1574). In the catalogue there are also uncategorized objects (1-72) and Recuay objects (73-224). 20 In the 31 years Wilhelm Gretzer lived in Lima (1872-1903) he gathered approximately 37,000 objects, which were purchased in 1899 under the sponsorship of Arthur Baessler and in 1907 thanks to the sponsorship of Julius van den Zypen (Eisleb 1973). 21 [Die] „nächste Aufgabe, [ist] denjenigen Andeutungen geschichtlicher Wege nachzugehen, die auf dieses Hochland einen Ein uss haben ausüben können“ (Bastian 1889, p. 101). The Inca Collection at the Ethnologisches Museum Berlin. Genesis and Contexts 57 Germany To Mr. A. Bastian, Paris, 21 July 1881 Dear sir, with my respect, I have received your esteemed letter of the 19th and in answering it I can indicate that the unfortunate events of my country and the fear that my collection of Peruvian antiquities, which has cost me many sacrifices, had fallen into the hands of enemies, forced me to make this voyage to exhibit them in Paris and in London and I have resolved that only if a country or a capitalist pays me what I think they are worth will I sell them as a complete collection. If I don’t encounter anyone who pays me well I am resolved to separate out those objects that are not easy to acquire and sell the rest at public auction.18 These “unfortunate events”, mentioned in a letter written to Bastian, refer to the War of the Pacific (1879-1884), and are the reason for bringing the collection to Europe where it had already arrived in July 1881, but the negotiations concerning the acquisition for Berlin would take nearly a year, until April 1882. Albert Voss (1839-1906), assistant to the director, and the person responsible for the department of prehistory at the Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde, was in charge of the negotiations. The initial price of 600,000 French francs rapidly was bargained down to 100,000 French francs, which corresponded at that time to 97,886 marks or 25,000 pounds sterling. For the final purchase, the sum was disbursed by the business man Werner von Siemens (1816-1892). The manuscript of the catalogue Macedo sent to Bastian matches the catalogue published in Paris in 1881 and lists a total of 1574 objects (Macedo 1881). 19 Besides the private collections of Centeno and Macedo, there is the huge collection of Wilhelm Gretzer (1847-1926) in which Late Horizon material is also present. Approximately 900 of the 39,439 archaeological items originally in the Gretzer collection are now at the Ethnologisches Museum in Berlin.20 Until the beginning of the 1890s, there were only amateur collections. No research-based collections were available. At the 1888 International Congress of Americanists held in Berlin, Bastian clearly formulates the program to pursue for a better understanding of the historical connections in the Andean highlands, “The next duty is to follow the indications of the historical path which may have had an influence on these highlands”. 21 58 Max Uhle was assigned to the Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde’s first expedition to Tawantinsuyu. He was considered especially suited for this purpose because of his interests in archaeology and philological studies, and his interest in material culture and museum collections with an emphasis in the Americanist field. Uhle had recently finished editing the book on Tiahuanacu written with Alphons Stübel (Stübel and Uhle 1892). He had been already working for seven years at the Dresden museum (1881-1888) and supported the organization of the International Congress of Americanists in Berlin (Höflein 2002, p. 6). The collection Uhle gathered in Argentina and Bolivia contains 380 objects which can be considered Inca, out of a total of 4640 objects, although they had not been excavated, either. Uhle would never have the opportunity to work on his collection again and publish it. In his future academic life he worked with the University of Pennsylvania and with the support of sponsors based in California. He only came back to Berlin as an old man in 1933. His pioneering research was in areas that were poorly known in those days. This research is quite well documented, by letters, notebooks, and photographs. 22 Several scholars, mostly Argentinians with research interests in their country’s Northwest, have worked with it. 22 His legacy is hosted at the Ibero-Amerikanisches Institut, PK in Berlin. Reevaluation of the Inca Collections As an “Archive of Humanity” this collection is subject to a continuous process of reinterpretation, under which forgotten objects are rediscovered and new questions can be addressed. There are, for example, the ropes and bridles (sogas y bozales) from the Uhle collection, which have been studied as a reference collection in the context of the discovery at the Quebrada de Tucute, Provincia de Jujuy. 23 Within the corpus of quipu, which were published by Bastian (Bastian 1895) and which have also been intensely studied in the last decades by Gary Urton and other scholars, there are also artefacts from the 19th century. Interesting in terms of the history of the collection are the quipolas studied by Carmen Beatriz Loza. 24 The history of these artefacts is curious, as they were collected before the first Inca quipu was offered to the 23 The more than 140 ropes from the site of Doncellas, now at the Museo Juan Ambrosetti of the Unversity of Buenos Aires, are made from the same local materials as the ones in the Uhle collection (Cortaderia spp. and the oral stalks of plants from the Festucoidea subfamily of the Gramineae). The AMS dates for Doncella correspond to the era just before the Inca expansion into Northwest Argentina and, by analogy, may be similar for the items at the Berlin collection (Pérez de Micou 2012). 24 Quipola is a term which has been created to distinguish artifacts made in the 18th century out of woolen strings of diferent vivid colors from knotted strings belonging to Inca or earlier times (c.f. Loza [1999], pp. 43-44). Figure 2 Ropes and bridles. Collection Max Uhle from Argentina. Ethnologisches Museen der Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin, PK, V A 11410 a. museum. Since the 18th century, interest in knot records has been fueled by the novel of Françoise de Grafigny (1695-1758), Lettres d’une Peruvienne [1747], inspired by Garcilaso de la Vega, Inca (1609) (Loza 1999, pp. 43-57). There are two collections of quipolas in the Berlin Museum, the first one provided by the German ambassador to Peru Theodor von Bunsen in 1872, the second one by Louis Sokoloski in 1877. Objects of interest for the history of the collections also include historical photographs which have been acquired since the 1870s. They were initially considered to be mere illustrations. A digitalization project recognizes the value of these visual objects. Some of them had been purchased as series, some are illustrations of purchase offerings, while others were exchanges with peers to share field-work experiences. Another category of visual objects which has been found virtually abandoned in the storerooms is the so-called “portraits of the Incas”. This series of 16 “portraits”, including one of the wife of the Inca, the Coya and one of Pizarro, had been found in the collection which have not been inventoried. Since they have been restored they have been requested frequently as loans and have been on exhibit almost continuously. A selection of the objects in the Berlin collection is now available online at: www.smb-digital.de 60 Figure 3 Manco Capac from the series of “Inca portraits”. Ethnologisches Museen der Staatlichen Museen zu Berlin, PK, V A 66694. Manuela Fischer The Inca Collection at the Ethnologisches Museum Berlin. Genesis and Contexts 61 The Utopia of a Harmonious Empire? The long history of the constitution of a collection, changing perspectives, political decisions, institutions, and places create the frame of any exhibit. After two centuries, the collections of the Ethnologisches Museum will return to the place where the Kunstkammer once had been. The struggle to find an accurate vantage point for viewing the history of the collection, and the various possible complementary readings in a location which alludes to the German Empire is a challenge. The important Inca collection the founder of the museum so avidly pursued as a “vital question”, has to be contextualized within the foundation of the German Empire, considered by the founder of the Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde; the Inca state as bearing witness to the possibility of a harmonious empire. Object-based institutions that produce knowledge and cultural narratives should make visible how they, themselves, were produced, both in the past and at present. The Berlin collection was conceived in the 19th century as an archive, so the questions which have to be asked when looking at an archive should be addressed. A main issue is the political assumptions according to which the institution organized the collections, stores tangible objects, and makes them accessible. What is the function of the collections and how are they made visible around the globe and in the digital field of research? Since the very beginning, as an institution, the Königliches Museum für Völkerkunde was dedicated to the production of knowledge. Consequently, its procedures should reflect the acquisition policy, and should take account of the motives and the ideological background underlying their genesis. In future presentations, the idea behind making collections of the past should be visible. Agents and actors, institutions and collectors, and the way they worked on this archive can sensitize us to the political functions of knowledge as cultural heritage in a contested field. 62 R efer en c es C i t ed U n p u b l i sh ed d o c u men t s P u b l i ca t i o n s [Archiv Ethnologisches Museum, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin (EMB)] Bastian, Adolf (1860), Der Mensch in der Geschichte, vol.1. Leipzig: Verlag von Otto Wigand. (1873), Die Reste des Incareiches in Peru. Geographische und ethnologische Bilder, Jena: Hermann Constenoble. (1878-1889a), Culturländer des alten Amerika, vol.3, Berlin: Weidmannsche Verlagsbuchhandlung. (1889), Bedeutung amerikanischer Sammlungen, in: Verhandlungen der Berliner Gesellschaft für Anthropologie, Ethnologie und Urgeschichte, Sitzung vom 19. Januar 1889, in: Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, 21, pp. 98-105. (1893-94), Controversen in der Ethnologie , Berlin: Weidmannsche Verlagsbuchhandlung. (1895), Peruanische Quipus, in: Verhandlungen der Berliner Anthropologischen Gesellschaft, 27, p. 96. [EMB Acta Bastian] Acta betreffend die Reise des Professors Dr. Bastian nach Amerika in den Jahren 1875/76. Vom Januar 1875 bis Ende Mai 1878. Pars I. Bastian 10. [EMB 475/74] Museum für Völkerkunde Acta betreffend die Erwerbung ethnologischer Gegenstände aus Amerika. Vol. 3, vom 1. Januar 1873 bis Ende September 1876. Pars I.B. [EMB Acta Macedo] Museum für Völkerkunde Acta betreffend die Erwerbung der Sammlung Macedo, Pars I.B. Litt. J. [EMB Acta Centeno] Acta betreffend die Erwerbung der Sammlung Centeno in Cuzco sowie die Reise des Dr. Hettner nach Amerika, vol.1, vom 17. Dezember 1874 bis Ende März 1889. Pars I.B. Litt. A. Archive of Humanity. The Origins of German Anthropology, Hildesheim: Olms. Flores Galindo, Alberto (2010), In Search of an Inca. Identity and Utopia in the Andes, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gänger, Stefanie (2014), Relics of the Past. The Collecting and Study of Pre-Columbian Antiquities in Peru and Chile, 1837-1911, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Grafigny, Françoise de (1990 [1747]), Lettres d’une Peruvienne , Paris: Cotê-femmes. Höflein, Michael (2002), Leben und Werk Max Uhles. Eine Bibliografie, Berlin: Ibero-Amerikanisches Institut. Eisleb, Dieter (1973), Abteilung Amerikanische Archäologie, in: Krieger, Kurt and Gerd Koch (eds.), Hundert Jahre Museum für Völkerkunde Berlin (Baessler-Archiv N.F. XXI), Berlin: Reimer, pp. 175-217. Köpping, Klaus-Peter ([1983]2005), Adolf Bastian and the Psychic Unity of Mankind. The Foundations of Anthropology in Nineteenth Century Germany, Münster: LIT. (1995), Enlightenment and Romanticism in the Work of Adolf Bastian. The Historical Roots Of Anthropology in The Nineteenth Century, in: Vermeulen, Hans F. and Arturo Alvarez Roldan (eds.), Fieldwork and Footnotes. Studies in the History of European Anthropology, London, New York: Routledge, pp. 75-89. Fischer, Manuela, Peter Bolz, and Susan Kamel (eds.) (2007), Adolf Bastian and his Universal López-Ocón, Leoncio, and Carmen María Pérez-Montes (eds.) (2000), Marcos Jiménez Cunow, Heinrich (1896), Die soziale Verfassung des Inkareichs, Stuttgart: Dietz. (1937), Geschichte und Kultur des Inkareichs, Amsterdam: Elsevier. Manuela Fischer de la Espada (1831-1898). Tras la senda de un explorador, Madrid: CSIC. Loza, Carmen Beatriz (1999), Quipus and Quipo las at the Museum für Völkerkunde, Berlin. Genesis of a Reference Collection. 1872-1999, in: Baessler-Archiv XLVII (1), Berlin: Reimer, pp. 39-75. Macedo, José Mariano (1881), Catalogue d’objets archéologiques du Pérou de l’ancien Empire des Incas, Paris: Imprimerie Hispano-américaine. Markham, Sir Clements R. (1873), Narratives of the Rites and Laws of the Yncas, London: Hakluyt Society. (1892), A History of Peru, New York: Greenwood Press. (1911), The Incas of Peru. London: Smith, Elder & Co. Matto de Turner, Clorinda (1890), Bocetos al lápiz de americanos célebres, vol. 1, La Bibliotheca Virtual Miguel de Cervantes, La Biblioteca Virtual del Español. (http:www.cervantesvirtual.com/obra-visor/ bocetos-al-lapiz-de-americanos-celebres-tomo-primero—0/html/ff49ed0e-82b1-11df-acc7002185ce6064_6.html#I_55_), retrieved 22 January 2015. Nehring, Alfred (1888), Hr. Nehring fügt einige Bemerkungen hinzu über altperuanische The Inca Collection at the Ethnologisches Museum Berlin. Genesis and Contexts Hausthiere, in: Verhandlungen der Berliner Gesellschaft für Anthropologie, Ethnologie und Urgeschichte 20, p. 335. Pérez de Micou, Cecilia (2012), Bozales y sogas de Pueblo Viejo, Quebrada de Tucute (Jujuy, Argentina), in: Baessler-Archiv 60, Berlin: Reimer, pp. 57-66. Pohle, Hermann and Gustav Mahr (eds.) (1969), Festschrift zum Hundertjährigen Bestehen der Berliner Gesellschaft für Anthropologie, Ethnologie und Urgeschichte, 1869-1969, Erster Teil, Fachhistorische Beiträge, Berlin: Verlag Bruno Heßling. Pratt, Mary Louise (1992), Imperial Eyes. Travel Literature and Transculturation, London, New York: Routledge. Quijada, Mónica (2005), América Latina en las revistas europeas de antropología desde los inicios hasta 1880. De la presencia temática a la participación académica, in: López-Ocón, Leoncio, Jean Pierre Chaumeil, and Ana Verde Casanova (eds.), Los americanistas del siglo XIX. La construcción de una comunidad científica internacional, Madrid: Iberoamericana/Vervuert, pp.193-212. Rowe, John H. ([1946]1963), Inca Culture at the Time of the Spanish Conquest, in: Steward, Julien H. (ed.), Handbook of South American Indians, vol. 2, The Andean Civilizations, New York: Cooper Square Publications, pp. 183-330. 63 Stübel, Alphons and Max Uhle (1892), Die Ruinenstätte von Tiahuanaco im Hochlande des alten Peru. Eine kulturgeschichtliche Studie auf Grund selbststaendiger Aufnahmen, Breslau: C.T. Wiskott. Taylor, Edward B. (1905), Adolf Bastian, in: Man 76, pp. 138-142. Vega, Garcilaso de la, El Inca (1609), Primera parte de los comentarios reales, qve traten del origen de los Yncas, reyes qve fveron del Perv, de sv idolatria, leyes, y gouierno en paz y en guerra: de sus vidas y conquistas, y de toto lo que fue aquel imperio y su republica, antes que los Españoles passaran a el, Lisboa: Pedro Crasbeeck. Villarías Robles, Juan José (2005), El peruanismo de Sir Clements Markham (1830-1916), in: Leoncio López-Ocón, Jean Pierre Chaumeil, and Ana Verde Casanova (eds.), Los americanistas del siglo XIX. La construcción de una comunidad científica internacional, Madrid: Iberoamericana/Vervuert, pp. 111-143. Westphal-Hellbusch, Sigrid (1973), Zur Geschichte des Museums, in: Krieger, Kurt and Gerd Koch (eds.), Hundert Jahre Museum für Völkerkunde Berlin, Baessler-Archiv N.F. XXI, Berlin: Reimer, pp.1-99. Wiener, Charles (1880), Pérou et Bolivie, Paris: Hachette. 64 ANN H. PETERS V I S I O N S O F T H E I N C A D Y N A S T Y. N A R R AT I V E S T Y L E S , E M B L E M AT I C D R E S S A N D T H E P O W E R O F A N C E S TO R S Ann H. Peters Visions of the Inca Dynasty. Narrative Styles, Emblematic Dress and the Power of Ancestors 65 A dynasty of Inca rulers is remembered, described and represented in colonial texts and images. There are no accessible prehispanic sources, as khipu coding of historic narratives has been more difficult to decipher than administrative records (Quilter and Urton 2002). Inca art is highly symbolic, composed of figures that represent conceptual categories, as opposed to the highly iconic western imagery that seeks to evoke particular persons, animals, objects, or places and there is no extant evidence that carved or painted likenesses of Inca rulers were produced prior to the colonial period. Inca historic narratives were probably diverse and contested, based on the interests of each descent group, but official versions established by a commission of elder authorities were developed after the death of each ruler and maintained by certain khipu kamayuq, masters of record keeping in knotted cords. As in the documented oral histories of other Andean peoples, Inca narratives incorporate recurrent mythic themes, in which heroic powers and natural forces manifest in each particular regional landscape and political actor. The Inca discourse about their place in Andean history and social geography asserts that a series of wise Inca rulers invented the principal institutions of civilization and government. But to what extent are Inca practices and institutions unique, and to what extent are they an explicitly codified variant of well established social and political practices shared by contemporary and previous Andean polities? My approach to addressing these questions draws on my own research specialty analyzing elaborate dress and regalia wrapped around the preserved bodies of socio-political leaders from about 2000 BP in the mortuary tradition known as Paracas Necropolis. The Quechua suix –kuna marks plural, in this discussion largely used to describe groups of people of a particular social category. 1 Sixteenth century narratives describe the Incas as a dynasty and society where all political relationships and roles were defined based on kinship, both descent and marriage alliance. Like some dynasties of ancient Egypt, the Inca ruling couple, Sapa Inca (called by Guaman Poma Qhapaq Apu Inca) and Quya, were defined ideally as brother and sister as well as man and wife. Subject polities were linked to the Inca ruler through marriage exchange, which gave the Inca the labor and reproductive power of many secondary wives. Their sons were called the awkikuna, the warriors, while their daughters were the ñustakuna, to be given as wives of the next generation of principal kuraka leaders. 1 Trusted allies and inlaws could be declared “Incas by Privilege” and would take on positions of responsibility in the management and expansion of the empire. The elite Inca women, the pallakuna, were under the leadership of the Quya and doubtless essential to the political strategies of rule, though the chronicles lack explanations and stories like those told about Inca 66 men. The institution of the aqllakuna, selected women who served the Sun temples and Inca, expanded exchange relationships with a wider range of elite families and provided a huge women’s labor force for hospitality and textile production. A descent group founded by each Sapa Inca and Quya became the panaqa who managed their estates and cared for the richly dressed mummified body of each ruling Inca, as well as a dressed stone wawki “brother”, who stood in for the Inca, in life or after death, on occasions when the ruler could not be physically present. At the same time, each ruler is said to found an ayllu, a corporate kindred of hurin Cusco, the lower half, or hanan Cusco, the upper half. The ritual and political power of the mummies of prior rulers and their continuing agency expressed through panaqa interpreters played a key role in the political relations among the Inca descent groups, and occasionally intervened in the affairs of empire. This particular kinship system, interaction with deceased forebears and relationship to the ruling order are generally considered unique to the Inca, largely because we lack information on earlier Andean polities. In descriptions written by or for Spaniards, Iberian concepts of kinship and rule intervene, distorting the connotations of kin terms and clouding their relationship to normative practice or lived experience. The narratives about each Inca ruler include assertions about family relationships connected to their political strategies and achievements, but the names of persons, the character of the relationships, and the events described vary among the chronicles. The earliest extant portrait-style depictions of the Inca rulers come from two related sources, the pre-1615 manuscript of Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, and a contemporary manuscript produced for, and partly by, the Mercedarian friar Martín de Murúa (Galvin Codex, Murúa [ca. 1590-98] 2004). Guaman Poma appears to have worked for Murúa, and may have produced some of the images (Adorno and Boserup 2008, Ossio 2008); many of the details correspond closely, but the Galvin Codex is incomplete. A second illustrated version of the Murúa manuscript, the Getty or Wellington Codex (Murúa [1611-16] 2008) is a more complete copy, but it does not accurately reproduce details of color and accoutrements. Colonial portraits of the Incas also change over time, in both the conventions of representation and the elements of dress and regalia depicted (Barnes 1994; Cummins 1991, 2014). The textual notes and accompanying descriptions by Guaman Poma are more detailed and systematic than those of the other illustrated Ann H. Peters Visions of the Inca Dynasty. Narrative Styles, Emblematic Dress and the Power of Ancestors 67 manuscripts and portraits with captions, but all refer to analogous categories of information. Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala appears to have been a member of an elite family, kurakas from the Huánuco region of Chinchay Suyo, to the north of Cusco on the route to Cajamarca. He asserts that his grandfather and father were Incas by Privilege and his mother an Inca woman of royal descent. In colonial Peru, kuraka heirs were sent to special schools run by the clergy, where Guaman Poma must have been an outstanding student as he became fluent in Spanish, familiar with European religious and historic discourse, skilled in European artistic conventions, and an assistant to clerics involved in the persecution of idolatry (Adorno 1979, 1989; López-Baralt 1993). Doubtless as a result of this experience, Guaman Poma later wrote and illustrated a document of over a thousand pages, with some 350 pages describing Inca and Andean history and customs and some 310 pages describing the abuses of the colonial system (Guaman Poma de Ayala, [ca. 1615] 1980). 2 The rest of the document places the Andean history in the context of biblical and European history, summarizes personages and events of the Conquest, civil wars, and early colonial administration, and recommends practices of good government for colonial and Andean authorities. Although the manuscript is directed to both Spanish and Andean readers, Guaman Poma dedicated it to King Felipe III of Spain and dispatched it in 1616, or perhaps a little later (Adorno 2002, accessed 4 February 2015). Eventually it became part of the Royal Library of Denmark. 3 2 All texts cited from Guaman Poma ([ca. 1615] 1980) are translations by this author. Quechua terms, other than names, are spelled according to their interpretation and transcription by Urioste in that volume. 3 See The Guaman Poma Website, http://www.kb.dk/permalink/2006/poma/ info/en/frontpage.htm, for more information regarding the history of the manuscript and images of its pages, including the images illustrating this article. The Inca dynasty is described by most 16th century chronicles, and detailed accounts exist in the early writings of Cieza de León ([1553] 1967), Betanzos ([ca. 1555] 1880), and Sarmiento ([1572] 1999) as well as a careful later compilation by Cobo ([1653] 1979). Like Guaman Poma, these chroniclers gathered information from Andean sources, drawing on a combination of personal relationships and official sources. Julien (2000) has carefully compared their narratives, and considers that the similarity and differences among them are probably due to differences among different genres of Inca narratives maintained by different Cusco descent groups, which would have included details of the achievements of their direct ancestors and stressed their role in territorial conquest and in establishing the institutions and procedures of Inca state religion and administration. It is also likely that there is a similar bias in all these narratives, corresponding to aspects of rule considered most important by the European observers based on their own political culture. 68 Guaman Poma’s images of Inca rulers closely correspond to his texts, which differ significantly from descriptions provided by the Spaniards, and are very similar to the illustrated Murúa text. Julien (ibid.) ascribes this to the fact that these narratives were composed at the end of the 16th century, and therefore are more distant from Inca narratives generated prior to the colonial period. I would add that Guaman Poma’s account is an idealized, “normative” account, which sacrifices the details of events and historic accuracy in order to stress Andean principles. To compare Inca practice with that of a smaller regional power some 1500 years earlier, it is helpful to elucidate Andean principles of social and political leadership, how they have been linked in discourse to concepts of kinship and descent, and how they have been linked in practice to relationships between the living and the dead. Guaman Poma’s illustrated text and the Murúa documents that he partially illustrated, are the most valuable sources for this purpose. Moreover, Guaman Poma appears to present genres of Inca and Andean narrative not presented by other chroniclers, albeit filtered through a syncretic colonial perspective. In Guaman Poma’s account, historic references have been compiled into a common theme and unified into a mythic narrative. Underlying the moral of this story is the Andean principle of accomplishment through gender balance and sibling solidarity, a recurrent theme in Guaman Poma’s description of each generation of Inca rulers. Guaman Poma does appear to be drawing on a different genre of narrative about Inca rule, told in a different social context as well as at a later period. One principle expressed is that of gender complementarity in household management, extended with equal vigor to management of the affairs of state. United with the principle of sibling solidarity, the ruling couple is logically considered as both man and wife and brother and sister, and the chosen heirs are logically considered as their children. Comparisons with the Spanish accounts elucidate several examples of heirs who do not appear to be biological children of one or both of the previous ruling couple, but are explicitly asserted to be such by Guaman Poma. Guaman Poma presents an illustration and narrative for each Qhapaq Apu Inca and Quya and a third individual (or two) labeled in Spanish as “Captain” but also referred to as leader of the awkikuna, and described as a son of the ruling couple. Only Guaman Poma and the closely related Murúa ([c. 1590] 2004) manuscript describe each generation of rulers as a triad, and Murúa’s subsequently revised ([1590-1598] 2008) manuscript abandons this information structure. Other Spaniards’ accounts, in contrast, tend to stress military contributions of the son who goes on to become the next ruler, and to Ann H. Peters Visions of the Inca Dynasty. Narrative Styles, Emblematic Dress and the Power of Ancestors 69 present non-inheriting military leaders in the context of conflict over succession. Guaman Poma summarizes military accomplishments of each Inca ruler during his father’s reign and his own, and then separately illustrates and describes the accomplishments of his Captain(s). For Guaman Poma the awkikuna are a sibling cohort, all the male children of a ruling Inca, warriors led by those defined as sons of the ruling couple. However, this definition does not hold for the historic Captains during the reigns of Huayna Capac and his sons Huascar and Atahuallpa. Guaman Poma’s list of the sons of each ruling couple and their relationship to the role of Captain of the awkikuna may be as much an ideological construct as is his list of their sisters and their relationship to the role of Quya. Rather than reifying the kinship chart as a biological phenomenon, we should consider that political leadership might have been expressed in the language of kin terms and ascent to power justified by a restructuring of kin relationships. Julien (ibid.) hypothesizes two types of pre-conquest narratives about the Inca dynasty, which she describes as the Genealogical genre and the Life History genre. She considers that these genres were preserved by the panaqa descent groups and official khipu masters, and presented on occasions when the mummified and adorned Incas and Quyas were seated in public to be honored and consulted. She traces evidence for these genres in detailed comparisons between the narratives produced by different 16th century Spanish and Andean authors. She also traces some of their oral and textual sources, including lost manuscripts and accounts originally based on khipu coded information. Guaman Poma’s text is structured in what Brokaw (1999, 2003) has described as khipu logic, a highly structured form in which equivalent types of information are provided for a set of social or political roles, presented in a well-defined sequence. Guaman Poma illustrates and describes the sequence of Inca rulers, followed by the sequence of Quya rulers, and the sequence of Captains. The twelfth to fifteenth Captains are the four male leaders of Tahuantinsuyu, followed by their four Ladies. The Spanish terms “Capitan,” “Caballero” and “Señora” appear to be used by Guaman Poma to refer to high status men and women, awki and palla in the Inca descent groups, kuraka if holding a leadership position in another Andean polity. These roles are soon contested in the colonial system, and the use of Spanish terms may be linked to Andean claims to elite status in Spanish political terms. Within each social category, the types of information presented for all individuals are approximately equivalent, as is the level of detail. Such an even-handed approach is not characteristic of any early chronicle, but 70 does resemble Cobo’s later narrative based on his interview with Alonso Tupa Atau, an elderly kuraka of the Cusco region. Both may be examples of a synthetic narrative genre broadly disseminated among Inca allies, though Cobo’s narrative only includes the types of information presented by Guaman Poma for each male Inca ruler. For each Qhapaq Apu Inca and Quya, Guaman Poma presents brief information on physical appearance, character, accomplishments, marriage, children, death and legacy. For each Captain of the awkikuna, he presents a summary of military accomplishments in relationship to those of his father and brothers, and sometimes his death, without further personal data. Guaman Poma’s texts on men’s accomplishments and legacies appear to be abbreviated versions of the types of narratives compiled earlier by Spaniards like Cieza, Betanzos, Polo, and Sarmiento. His information on physical appearance, character, and family is brief, but more systematic than that recorded by other chroniclers. Entirely independent from historic accuracy or consistency with other accounts, what is important about these narratives is their close link to khipu-based data. The texts are of a summary nature and probably have been compiled from more extensive records. Rather than being imbedded in the perspective of a particular ayllu or panaqa linked to descent from a ruling couple, this version of the Inca dynasty was probably an abbreviated version of the type of official narrative that Cieza asserts was developed after the death of each ruler by a group of elders and khipu masters. The presence of equivalent data categories for the Quya rulers is of particular importance, because this information was seldom recorded by the Spaniards, despite the importance of Inca women as a source for Cieza and Betanzos. Quya accomplishments (or lack thereof) are briefly cited in the realms of social networking, organization of public events, and hospitality–vital contributions to governability in Cusco and beyond. Unfortunately, Guaman Poma is our principal source for this type of information, and he does not go on to record women’s roles in his descriptions of social leadership in the Colonial period. Moreover, Guaman Poma characterizes the building of political alliances through diplomacy, hospitality, and marriage exchange as “doing nothing,” in contrast to early Spanish accounts of the importance of these activities, particularly prominent in the initial growth of Inca power and linked to the Quya’s realm of authority. Political strategies of alliance building through feasting and gift exchange continued to be central to Inca construction of empire, and ambivalent political encounters that lead to feasting or combat are described in Inca narratives of imperial expansion and Spanish narratives Ann H. Peters Visions of the Inca Dynasty. Narrative Styles, Emblematic Dress and the Power of Ancestors 71 of first encounter. The roles of the Quya, the pallakuna, the “Ladies” leading other Andean polities and their female cohort in organizing and provisioning this aspect of imperial relationships is not well documented in early Spanish chronicles and virtually disappears in later colonial discourse. Therefore, the levels of detail provided by Guaman Poma in the early 17th century probably do not directly correspond to the documentary genres of a century earlier. Subtle differences in the style and tone of Guaman Poma’s narrative indicate where categories of information may have been compiled from different sources. His narratives linking the character and actions of each ruling couple to their legacy are simultaneously dispassionate and judgmental. Marked shifts in tone are linked to his descriptions of the physical appearance of each Qhapaq Apu Inca and Quya, including dress and regalia. His narrative style is dryer, less judgmental, and focused on accuracy of detail. He appears to be drawing on a different kind of source for one section of his text on each Qhapaq Apu Inca and Quya, as well as certain details in the accompanying illustration. Note the shifts in tone in Guaman Poma’s descriptions of the second and third generation. Two Rulers of Hurin Cusco. Guaman Poma describes long-distance conquest much earlier in the Inca dynasty than do the more detailed narratives compiled by Spaniards, which assert that long distance conquest was initiated by the tenth Inca ruler, Inca Yupanki, known as Pachakuti. Guaman Poma includes the names Inca Yupanki and Pachakuti in the list of sons of the first Inca, Manqu Qhapaq, making them brothers of Sinchi Ruqa. This may be a genealogical assertion to construct an internally consistent mythic history. Guaman Poma here depicts the Captain removing the eyes of a Qulla kuraka, wearing emblematic dress like that of the Captain of Qulla Suyu and his image of a Qulla burial rite ([ca. 1615] 1980, pp. 148-149, 268-269). The accuracy of his depiction can be confirmed archaeologically, as similar tunics, neck ornaments, and headdresses have been recovered in high status burials from the circum-Titicaca region, including the qhapaq hucha mountaintop sacrifice of a child (ibid., p. 239) on Cerro Plomo, a snow-capped peak in central Chile (Mostny 1957-1959). Figure 1a 2nd Qhapaq Apu Inga: Sinchi Ruqa “A passionate and well mannered man. He had his llautu [headband] of red and his feather tassel [quitasol], and his tunic red plain weave above, and in the middle three rows of tukapo [ine woven designs] and below pink, and his mantle light scarlet and in his right hand his kunka kuchuna [axe] and in his left his stone ring and chanpi [club], and on his feet the four ties. He was a very gentleman, with a ierce brown face [. . .] This Inca killed the irst legitimate Inca, descendant of Adam and Eve and of the Wari Wira Qucha Runa, the irst king Tocay Capac, Pinau Capac Inga.” The original color terms are colorado, rrozado, colorado, and encarnado claro. Figure: The Royal Library, Copenhagen, GKS 2232 4º: Guaman Poma, Nueva corónica y buen gobierno (1615), [p.88], [Drawing 26][Segundo Inga, Chinche Roca Inga] Figure 1b 2nd Quia: Chinbo Urma “She was very beautiful and brown like [. . .] her mother. And she was slim, fond of having bouquets and owers, inkillkuna, in her hands and having a ower garden. And she was very peaceable with her subjects.” “And she had her lliklla [woman‘s mantle] of yellow, and in the middle dark blue and her aqsu [wrap-around dress] Maras crimson, and her chumpi [wide belt] of very deep green.” The original color terms are amarilla, azul escuro, encarnado de Maras, and uerde muy entonada. Figure: The Royal Library, Copenhagen, GKS 2232 4º: Guaman Poma, Nueva corónica y buen gobierno (1615), [p.122], [Drawing 40] [La segunda Coya; Chinbo Urma] Figure 1c 2nd Captain: Thupa Amaru Inga, and the rest. “They were brave captains. They conquered and killed and took out the eyes of their enemies, the leaders of the Qulla Suyo [. . .] He wrought great destruction from Xasxa Uana to Quiqui Xana, to the Chillques, Acos, and died in the war. And his brother Wari Titu Inca, a ierce captain […] They fought with the irst Inca Tocay Qhapaq and Pinau Qhapaq Inca, who killed the said brothers Thupa Amaru, Wari Titu Inca.” Figure: The Royal Library, Copenhagen, GKS 2232 4º: Guaman Poma, Nueva corónica y buen gobierno (1615), [p.147], [Drawing 52][El segundo Capitán, Topa Amaro Inga] 73 Figure 2a 4th Qhapaq Apu Inka: Mayta Qhapaq Inca. “He had his arms and his helmet uma chuco of blue yanas p’aqra [black in appearance], his makha paycha [royal fringe] and kunka kuchuna [axe], walqanqa [shield], and his mantle [is] scarlet, his tunic with the upper part blue, in the middle three rows of tukapu [inely woven patterns]; and below [the] kasane [nested squares pattern] with white and green and red, and four ties on his feet.” “And he was a very ugly man, in face, feet, hands, and body, very thin, cold, very stingy. Along with all this, he was very ierce, melancholic.” The original color terms are azul escuro yanas pacra, encarnado, azul, blanco, uerde, and colorado. Figure: The Royal Library, Copenhagen, GKS 2232 4º: Guaman Poma, Nueva corónica y buen gobierno (1615), [p.98], [Drawing 30][El cuarto Inga, Maita Capac Inga] Figure 2b 4th Quya: Chinbo Mama Yachi Urma. “She was a bit ugly and brown. She had white eyes, but her body was splendid and graceful, an honorable woman, fond of going out to visit other ruling women and converse with them and entertain herself with music and dining [. . . ]” “And her lliklla [woman’s mantle] was orange and the middle part tokapu [inely woven patterns] on a red ground, and her aqsu [wrap-around dress] dark blue.” he original color terms are naranjado, colorado, and azul escuro. Figure: The Royal Library, Copenhagen, GKS 2232 4º: Guaman Poma, Nueva corónica y buen gobierno (1615), [p.126], [Drawing 42] [La cuarta Coya, Chinbo Mama Iachi Urma] Figure 2c 4th Captains: Apu Maytaq Inca, and Willkaq Ynga. “They were great brave captains, and conquered according to their father’s commands [. . .] all the province of Charca and Chuquiyapo, Chuquisaca and Potosí, the silver mines and the gold mines of Kallawaya [. . .] They caused destruction and killed very many people, and destroyed and established great idols and sacriices, and had temples built. And they had from the city of Cuzco to the kingdom of Quillau subjected and demarcated. And so ended these captains.” Figure: The Royal Library, Copenhagen, GKS 2232 4º: Guaman Poma, Nueva corónica y buen gobierno (1615), [p.151], [Drawing 54][El cuarto Capitán, Apo Maitac Inga] 74 In Guaman Poma’s images, generic Inca dress does not display particular tukapu designs and layout, as do the specific costume and accoutrements described and illustrated for each Qhapaq Apu Inca and Quya and depicted, but not described, for the Captains. Generic Inca dress is archaeologically recorded in burials of men interpreted as having served in military campaigns or a lower level of the administrative hierarchy (Frame et al. 2004), and of women (Katterman 2007), some interpreted as aqllakuna or sacrificed women (Ceruti, 2015 [this volume]; Tiballi 2010). Miniature clothing that dresses Inca figurines is one of our best sources, as it usually reproduces details of color, proportions, and finishes, is well preserved, and, like the style and ears of the figurines, is an emblematic representation of the Inca. Non-Inca peoples are depicted with dress closely corresponding to Guaman Poma’s images of the Captains of each of the four suyus and matching regional references in the narrative. However, high status male and female dress recovered archaeologically in each of the four suyus is far more diverse (Frame 2010a; Rowe 2014). This suggests that Guaman Poma’s illustrations were derived from textual sources and emblematic representations of Inca and regional dress rather than from images of individuals. Spaniards, including Cieza, Betanzos, and Sarmiento, describe the Quyas of the second and third generation as daughters of kurakas from other Inca polities in the Cusco region. Despite Guaman Poma’s insistence in the literal interpretation of sister marriage, he shows the Quya in the second generation wearing a dress of Maras crimson, emblematic of the polity associated with the rival Inca Tocay Pinau Qhapaq. José Luis Martínez (1995) has analyzed many of the “attributes of the Lord” associated with Inca rulers, such as the right to sit on a ritual stool (tiyana), to be carried in a litter or hammock, to hold court throughout the realm, or to be addressed with highly codified deference based on a higher or lower physical position, burden-bearing, and the mocha gesture. Martínez shows that these are attributes of leaders throughout the central Andes and attributes of powerful beings in Andean myths. However, he does not discuss dress and regalia. Guaman Poma depicts and describes all of these attributes, but they are not an explicit aspect of his narrative about the sequence of Inca rulers. The regalia emblematic of male Inca rulers are defined by Rowe (1946, p. 258) as the braided headband (llautu) and red fringe (maskha paycha), together with the large ear spools inserted into stretched earlobes. The suntur paucar is a feathered staff tipped with three large feathers. Guaman Poma shows a fringe and three feathers in varying Ann H. Peters Visions of the Inca Dynasty. Narrative Styles, Emblematic Dress and the Power of Ancestors 75 positions, for example, attached to an Inca warrior’s helmet and weapons. He describes and depicts a warrior’s club (champi), axe (kunka kuchuna) and shield (walqanqa) in the hands of most male rulers, and a sling (warak’a) wielded by Pachakuti. A feathered staff labeled in Spanish as a parasol (quitasol) is shown in connection with the first ruling couple and four of the later Quyas. Guaman Poma does not describe or depict the “royal banner or standard” described by Cobo as: “a small square pennant, about five or twelve palms around the edge, made of cotton or wool cloth. It was fixed on the end of a long pole so as to stand out stiffly and not wave in the wind. Each king had his arms and emblems painted on it, as each Inca chose different ones, although the most usual for the Inca lineage were the rainbow and two serpents stretched out the length of it, parallel with the fringe that served as a crown. To this, each king would normally add as his emblem and symbol whatever figures he liked, such as a lion [puma] an eagle and other things. For a fringe this standard had certain long feathers placed at intervals” (Cobo [1653] 1979, p. 246). The Murúa document includes an image, apparently drawn by Guaman Poma (Adorno and Boserup 2008) of the symbols described on this standard for each generation, but associates it with the Quya. The regalia, tunic patterns, and the colors of tunic and cloak depicted with each Inca are specified by Guaman Poma’s text, and in most cases the same associations are depicted in color in the Murúa document (Monteverde, 2013). The exception is Wayna Qhapaq’s tunic, specified by Guaman Poma as “green and orange from the middle up, and below blue and white checkered” but depicted as fully covered with the tukapu motif termed by archaeologists the “Inca key” ([ca. 1615] 1980, pp. 92-93). The corresponding illustration in the Murúa document (Codex Galvin) has a blurry green tunic unlike the specific forms depicted for other Inca rulers. Guaman Poma’s description of each Quya’s dress does not include her headdress, present in some drawings, and does not specify the objects held in her hands, though they illustrate preferences and activities described in the associated text. The dress of the Captains is not described in the text, but Guaman Poma illustrates particular Inca tunic types similar to some archaeologically recovered Late Horizon tunics (Rowe 1979). 76 Mayta Qhapaq wears dress consistent with his warrior character, described in anecdotal detail by the Spanish chroniclers. The kasana tunic design also is associated in Guaman Poma’s illustrations with the eighth Captain (son of Pachakuti) and the Auqa Runa, the male head of household expected to contribute military service to the Incas. The yanas p’aqra helmet appears as a warrior attribute associated with the earlier bellicose age of the Auqa Runa as well as Incas engaged in military conquest. Like most of the Quya rulers, Chinbo Urma is depicted in the company of others not described in the text. Usually women serve and accompany the Quya, but in this case an elder man carries a coca bag like that held by the ninth and tenth Quya rulers. This highlights their role in cultivating social relationships, as well as the importance of coca leaves in Inca ritual, attributed to the later conquest of Anti Suyo by Inca Ruqa. Once again, Guaman Poma seems less concerned with depicting historic sequence than principles of rule. It is likely that the firmly stated, highly codified descriptions of the physique, character, achievements, consort and heirs of each Qhapaq Apu Inca and each Quya were memorized in a sequence coded in a khipu. However, Guaman Poma’s account of the Inca dynasty appears to be based on a summarized version in which logical coherence with the principles of Inca rule has been achieved at the cost of historic accuracy. Perhaps a sort of textbook account broadly disseminated among Inca allies, it was reproduced over decades and its elements may have been condensed, reinterpreted, and reorganized in that process. The distinctive tone of Guaman Poma’s descriptions of dress and regalia indicate that these descriptions are drawn from a different kind of narrative, coded on a different khipu, or perhaps another system, possibly a kind of record also used in the Colonial period to facilitate the large-scale production in the Andes of religious and historic imagery according to European conventions and methods. Are Guaman Poma’s images based on earlier images of the Inca rulers? Painted panels depicting the Inca and Quya rulers were prepared by orders of Viceroy Toledo, presented by Sarmiento as part of his consultation with Inca descendants in 1572, and sent to Felipe II (Markham, in: Sarmiento [1572] 1999, p. ix). Probably, the descriptions of each Inca and Quya cited by Guaman Poma and used as a basis for the Murúa document also were used to prepare those panels. Figurative and narrative painting incorporating images of Andean actors was developed as members of Andean elite families were trained as artists for the reproduction and dissemination of religious imagery, resulting in the Cusco School of art, and rites and processions depict Inca descendants in Colonial versions of Inca dress and Ann H. Peters Visions of the Inca Dynasty. Narrative Styles, Emblematic Dress and the Power of Ancestors 77 regalia (Cummins 1991; Dean 1999; Rowe 1979). Emblematic dress associated with each Inca ruler was preserved and reproduced by the panaqa descent groups in the Colonial period. Guaman Poma’s depiction of the rulers show some influence from Colonial styles, particularly in the long dresses represented on each Quya and her attendants. Sarmiento mentions painted wooden tablets developed by Pachakuti, kept in the house of the Sun where the principal ritual specialist was also called head storyteller (willaq uma), and linked to the production of narratives about the lives of the rulers. He stresses that such narratives were memorized and reproduced within each descent group, including numeric data coded in khipu form. These panels might represent a form of representation distinct from all other forms known for the Incas, or might have been composed of the square tukapu symbols prominent in the dress of each Inca ruler. Brokaw (2014) associates all with the concept of qillqay, which he understands as a conventional semiotic system including color and design, translated in early dictionaries as “writing” (Domingo de Santo Tomás [1560] 2006; Gonzalez Holguín [1608] 1989). Historic narratives associated with tukapu symbols probably noted their association with each Inca ruler and their use in emblematic clothing, ceramics and architecture. The highly symbolic nature of Inca art signals its relationship to verbal referents, connected to principles whose aspects and connotations would have been explored in narratives of mythic history. So while Guaman Poma’s drawing were developed in the European representative tradition, he probably drew on khipu-coded narratives linked to tukapu symbols and designed to facilitate the reproduction of visual data. However, the existence of a recording method for visual data does not explain which details are reproduced in the image of each Qhapaq Apu Inca and each Quya. There is a difference between the illustration of selected, salient features of the official narrative, as occurs in the images of the Captains in action, or of the persons, objects, animals, and plants surrounding the Quya, and the reproduction of named details of dress and regalia matching an accompanying text. The Inca is said to receive unlimited quantities of the finest garments as tribute from throughout the realm of Tawantinsuyu and to have constantly changed his dress, both on ritual occasions and in everyday use. So why would each Qhapaq Apu Inca be described as wearing a particular color of manto and unku with a certain tukapu layout, and the Quya be described as wearing a particular aqsu dress color and lliklla shawl design? 78 A logical possibility is that these sections of narrative refer to the preserved Inca mummies, wearing emblematic dress developed for them at the time of death. Mallkis are the physical remains of significant ancestors, preserved, adorned and treated properly by the representatives of a social group for whom they are important. The seizure and (probable) destruction of the mummy bundles of Inca rulers by Spanish administrator Polo de Ondegardo in the 1560s was key to dismantling the continuing power of Inca descendants in the early colonial period. Under the Extirpation of Idolatry, this destruction was extended to the ancestors preserved by other Andean regional polities. Inca and Andean Mummies and the Western Portrait Tradition When Huayna Capac and his consort Raua Ocllo had died in Quito of an epidemic from Europe, described as smallpox or measles, they were transported to Cusco seated on a litter “as if they were alive”, to stave off rebellion. Guaman Poma depicts the deceased rulers preserved in a lifelike form, fully dressed and with the customary accoutrements ([ca. 1615] 1980, pp. 350-351). His description of Inca burial includes preservation of both the Inca and his retinue: They embalmed the body without disturbing it and put the eyes and the face as if it were alive, and they dressed him in rich garments. They called the [recently] dead man yllapa [lightning bolt] and the other dead aya [deceased, ancestor] and they buried them with a great deal of gold and silver. And they killed all the pages and attendants and women that he was fond of and the most beloved woman he took to be the lady Quya. They were all embalmed and placed at his sides. . . ([ca. 1615] 1980, pp. 262-263). The depiction of a later procession of the body of the honored deceased in the Aya Marq’ay Killa ceremonies in November shows that a lifelike visaje was not preserved, but the seated position and sumptuous dress is intact (ibid., pp. 230-231). Guaman Poma may have seen such a procession as a child, though these customs were not accepted in the Christian circles in which he later lived and worked. Similarities between the prehispanic Andean processions and Christian processions of the fully dressed wooden statues of the Virgin and the saints indicate the complexities of syncretic religion and historic memory. 79 Figure 3a Figure: The Royal Library, Copenhagen, GKS 2232 4º: Guaman Poma, Nueva corónica y buen gobierno (1615), [p.377(379)], [Drawing 151][Defunto Guaina Capac Inga, Illapa] Figure 3b Figure: The Royal Library, Copenhagen, GKS 2232 4º: Guaman Poma, Nueva corónica y buen gobierno (1615), [p.287(289)], [Drawing 112][ Capítulo Primero, Entiero del Inga, Inca Illapa Aia, Defunto] Figure 3c Figure: The Royal Library, Copenhagen, GKS 2232 4º: Guaman Poma, Nueva corónica y buen gobierno (1615), [p.256(258)], [Drawing 100] [Nobienbre, Aia Marcai] 80 Guaman Poma would not have seen processions of the mallkis of the Inca rulers, as they were hidden by the panacas shortly after the conquest until Polo de Ondegardo located and seized them. In 1560, in Cusco, Inca Garcilaso saw three male and two female bodies of rulers captured by Polo de Ondegardo in 1560. He was able to view them without protective wrappings and describes them in the same condition and position depicted by Guaman Poma: The bodies were perfectly preserved without the loss of a hair of the head or brow or an eyelash. They were dressed as they had been in life, with llautus on their heads but no other ornaments or royal insignia. They were buried in a sitting position, in a posture often assumed by Indian men and women: their hands were crossed across their breast, the left over the right, and their eyes lowered, as if looking at the ground (Garcilaso de la Vega [1609] 1989 [1966], pt 1, bk 5, ch. 29, p. 307). The portrait traditions of Mediterranean antiquity are linked to the preservation of the dead. In Egypt, the preserved body of a ruler was hidden within idealized sarcophagus images that prioritized the semiotic of rule rather than the particularity of the individual within. Greek images likewise depicted an ideal, but in contrast the lifelike, individuated portraits of Rome have their antecedent in the imagines, death masks of wax preserved by the descendants of a noble family (Flower 1996). Roman painted likenesses spread in the Ptolemaic period to Egypt, and went on to be characteristic of Christian Coptic sarcophagi. The development of portrait busts, their use for the dissemination of the symbolic presence and historic memory of Roman emperors, and the later development of the oil portrait of the royalty, nobles, and bourgeoisie of Europe created a physical presence for powerful individuals when they were elsewhere, as well as after death. The Inca mallkis and the wawqi “brother” image appear to have played an analogous role. The “idol” described as a counterpart or representative of the Inca has no physical resemblance to the ruler, and in some cases was a stone carved in the form of a bird, fish, or serpent. The physical form and its symbolic associations were connected to that Inca through the indexical significance (Gell 1998) accumulated in the object’s history. Both the preserved body and the wawqi incorporated physical substance of the ruler, like a reliquary imbued with the indexical significance of the fragmentary remains of a sacred or powerful individual, the social associations of the history of custody of those Ann H. Peters Visions of the Inca Dynasty. Narrative Styles, Emblematic Dress and the Power of Ancestors 81 remains and the creation of an ornamental container. A review of the preservation of seated mallkis in the central Andes demonstrates that the tradition can be traced over hundreds of years in Paracas, Nasca, Lima, Wari, Ychma, and other regional polities later conquered by the Incas. 4 Tello’s 1927-28 excavation of the Paracas Necropolis has provided the most completely recovered, relatively well-documented cemetery population of the Central Andes, with a large proportion of high status burials (Tello 1959; Tello et al. 2012). Many of the mortuary bundles looked like huge seated figures, hunched, with mantles draped around their “shoulders”, and headdresses adorning a “false head.” The scale and organization of Andean polities changed greatly between Paracas times and the spread of Inca hegemony. The powerful leaders buried at the Paracas Necropolis were not heads of state per se, but may correspond to “ethnic lords”, leaders of kinship-based corporate social groups, analogous to the kuraka, but at this period not imbedded within a state or empire (Peters 2009). The men were buried with weapons, lances, clubs, and feather-ornamented staffs, different in form from those depicted with each Qhapaq Apu Inca, but similar in function. High status Paracas women were not buried with tools symbolic of their role in production, but high status men and women were both adorned with feather, shell, and sheet gold ornaments that appear to indicate ritual roles in life as well as after death. 4 Extended burials also occur throughout the central Andes in all historic periods, and are typical of some polities of the central and north coast. Mortuary traditions with seated burials often include artifacts appropriate to receive oferings. Watercolor illustrations have been published in Tello 1959 and Tello et al. 2012, as well as black and white photographs. While there is no evidence that Paracas bodies were embalmed, they were carefully prepared in a seated position and their faces adorned with sheet gold ornaments and protected by a pad of cotton fiber covered with a cotton cloth. Then the shrouded body was dressed in a headdress appropriate to its gender and social group–men in tunics, loincloths, and large mantles, and women in dresses and small mantles. For elders, more layers were added over time. The outermost layer is dressed with a complex headdress and one or more mantles, and, for men, a special open-sided tunic, feathered fan, staffs, and weapons. After the first phase of post-mortem rites, the individual was not visible; instead he or she was physically preserved by the layers of textiles, and represented symbolically in the outer visible layer. The Paracas Necropolis mortuary bundle is, at the same time, a sacred relic, a preserved likeness, and an idealized ancestral image, analogous on several levels to early Mediterranean portraits (Peters 2010). In the central Andes, Middle Horizon mortuary bundles were constructed to resemble seated individuals, topped by wooden masks with shell eyes and headdresses (Flores 2013; 82 Reiss and Stübel 1880-1887). The body of the deceased person is hidden deep within an oblong, heavily padded bundle. Fine tunics in a Wari style, or a high status regional style, may be placed over the entire textile bundle to dress an individual in an emblem of their relationship to that state and empire. Beneath, garments and other fine textiles typically reflect more local or personal aspects of identity. The south central Andes provides an excellent record of well-preserved seated mallkis, such as individuals from San Pedro de Atacama wearing emblematic Tiwanaku tunics and headdresses directly over elements of regional dress (Rodman 1992). The extraordinarily well-preserved individuals of the Chiribaya “culture” or regional polity are seated and dressed very much as in life (Guillén 2003). In one burial, a high-ranking man and male child are dressed in identical emblematic garments, reminiscent of Guaman Poma’s description and depiction of Inca Ruqa (Guaman Poma [ca. 1615] 1980, pp. 82-83). These dressed and seated mummies were ultimately buried within a relatively simple outer layer of wrapping cloths, providing the nearest analogy to the way the aya of the Incas are depicted by Guaman Poma. Most Inca-related burials have been found within a multilayer mortuary bundle and a netlike binding of cordage (Stothert 1979), or an oblong bundle with a well stitched outer wrapping (Bjerregaard and Von Hagen, 2007; Frame et al., 2004), but the Inca imperial mortuary tradition appears to be more similar to the examples from earlier societies of Qulla Suyu and Kunti Suyu. An important group of relatively well-documented contexts come from qhapaq hucha child sacrifices on snow-capped mountaintops of the Qulla Suyu and Kunti Suyu regions. The children who have been studied are not Inca in ethnic origin, but rather appear to be the children of regional Andean kurakas, “ethnic lords” who have offered their sons and daughters as part of exchange relationships that knotted a web of political alliances that created and sustained the empire. The children wear regional dress and have emblematic Inca tunics or other garments on top or folded and placed alongside (Reinhard and Ceruti 2000; Schobinger 2001). Some of these garments are honorific or sacrificial, as they may be the wrong gender or size for the child. Male and female figurines wearing miniature Inca garments are placed nearby, along with Inca serving vessels and other offerings. These sacrificial burials, preserved in glacial conditions, come closest to the description of the Inca mallkis. While archaeologists may never find or identify the bodies of the Inca rulers, it is likely that the highly codified, consistent descriptions and representations provided by Guaman Poma of garments, official regalia, and perhaps even Inca Ruqa’s son, refer to Ann H. Peters Visions of the Inca Dynasty. Narrative Styles, Emblematic Dress and the Power of Ancestors 83 the way the Incas were seen and formally described as ancestral mummies rather than their constantly transforming appearance in life. Textually codified descriptions of Inca mummies very likely predated their seizure by Polo de Ondegardo, and may also predate the Spanish invasion and conquest. Guaman Poma’s descriptions and illustrations present a similar level of detail for Thupa Inca Yupanki, with whom Guaman Poma’s grandfather had allied, but whose mummy had been reduced to ashes in the dynastic war just before the Spanish arrived (Guaman Poma [ca. 1615] 1980, pp. 90-91). On the other hand, absence of systematic description for the Captains suggests that their physical remains may have been treated differently, and indicates that no documentation was developed and preserved. The ruling Inca and Quya, the mallkis actively engaged in the social and political life of their descendant community, were preserved and dressed like living persons. Based on the archaeological evidence, other members of the Inca dynasty received similar treatment to varying degrees, being adorned with emblematic clothing and regalia prior to being wrapped for storage. Despite an Inca discourse that stressed their distinction from their close relatives in polities near Cusco and the institutions and customs of sociopolitical leadership in the Central Andes, the preservation of the bodies of Inca rulers, and the role their finely dressed mortuary bundles played in the lives and politics of subsequent generations appear rather consistent with the practices of contemporary and earlier Andean elites. The principles of leadership and rule, as well as the way Qhapaq Apu Inca and kuraka leaders are remembered, described, and represented, have deep roots in the south central Andes that predate the development of state institutions and the more tenuous alliances of empire. Acknowledgements I congratulate the organizers of New Perspectives on the Inca for a wonderful conference. I thank Rodolfo Monteverde Sotil for his observations on cloth, garments, and color in in the works of Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala and Martín de Murúa, which inspired me to explore possible motives for the similarities and differences in their representations of the Inca dynasty. 84 R efer en c es C i t ed Unpublished documents: Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, pp. 7-76. Monteverde, Rodolfo (2013) Producción, características y colores de la indumentaria de los incas en la crónica de Martín de Murúa [1590] y Guaman Poma de Ayala [1615] , unpublished essay. Barnes, Monica (1994) The Gilcrease Inca Portraits and Guaman Poma , in Margot Beyersdorff and Sabine Dedenbach-Salazar Saenz (eds.), in: Andean Oral traditions. Discourse and Literature. Bonn: Holos, Bonner Americanistiche Studien 24, pp. 223-256. Publications Adorno, Rolena (1979), Of Caciques, Coyas and Kings. The Intricacies of Points of View , Dispositio 4(10), pp. 27-47. (1989), Cronista y príncipe. La obra de don Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala , Lima: Fondo Editorial PUCP. (2002) A Witness unto Itself. The Integrity of the Autograph Manuscript of Felipe Gua man Poma de Ayala’s El Primer Nueva Corónica y Buen Gobierno (1615/1616) , http://wayback-01.kb.dk/wayback/ 20101105080508/ http://www2.kb.dk/elib/mss/ poma/docs/adorno/2002/index.htm (assessed 4 February 2015). Adorno, Rolena and Ivan Boserup (2008) The Making of Murua’s Historia General del Piru , in: The Getty Murúa. Essays on the Making of Martín de Murúa’s “Historia General del Piru”, J. Paul Getty Ms. Ludwig XIII 16, Thomas B. F. Cummins and Barbara Anderson (eds.). Betánzos, Juan de ([ca. 1555] 1880) Suma y narración de los incas que los indios llamaron capaccuna que fueron señores de la ciudad del Cuzco y de todo lo a ella subjecto , Márcos Jiménez de la Espada (ed.), Biblioteca Hispano-Ultramarina, Madrid: Imprenta de Manuel G. Hernández. Bjerregaard, Lena with Adriana Von Hagen (eds.) (2007), Chachapoya Textiles. The Laguna de los Cóndores Textiles in the Museo Leymebamba, Chachapoyas, Peru , Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press Brokaw, Galen (1999), Transcultural Intertextuality and Quipu Literacy in Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala’s Nueva Corónica y Buen Gobierno. PhD dissertation, Bloomington, IN: Indiana University. (2003), The Poetics of Khipu Historiography. Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala and the Khipukamayuqs from Pacariqtambo , in: Latin American Research Review 38(3), pp. 111-147. (2014), Semiotics, Aesthetics and the Quechua concept of Qilca , in: Matt Cohen and Jeffrey Glover (eds.) Colonial Mediascapes, Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, pp. 166-202. Ceruti, Constanza (2015) Inca Offerings Associated with the Frozen Mummies from Mount Llullaillaco , in: Perspectives on the Inca, Monica Barnes, Inés de Castro, Javier Lores Espinoza, Doris Kurella, and Karoline Noack (eds.). Stuttgart: Linden-Museum, Sonderband Tribus 2015, pp.164-177. Cieza de León, Pedro ([1553] 1967), El señorio de los Incas. Segunda parte de la crónica del Perú , introduction by Carlos Aranibar, Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos. Cobo, Bernabé ([1653] 1979), History of the Inca Empire. An Account of the Indian’s Customs and their Origin Together with a Treatise on Inca Legends, History, and Social Iinstitutions , Roland Hamilton (trans. and ed.), Forward by John Rowe, Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Cummins, Thomas B. F. (1991), We Are the Other. Peruvian Portraits of Colonial Kurakakuna, in: Kenneth J, Adrien and Rolena Adorno (eds.), Transatlantic Encounters. Europeans and Andeans in the Sixteenth Century, Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, pp. 203-231. Ann H. Peters (2014) Dibujado de mi Mano. Martín de Murúa as Artist , in: Manuscript Cultures of Colonial Mexico and Peru. New Questions and Approaches by Thomas B. F. Cummins, Emily Engel, Barbara Anderson, and Juan Ossio, Los Angeles, CA: Getty Research Institute, pp. 35-64. Dean, Carolyn (1999), Inka Bodies and the Body of Christ. Corpus Christi in Colonial Cuzco, Perú , Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Domingo de Santo Tomás, ([1560] 2006) Léxicon, o vocabulario de la Lengua General del Perú, compuesto por el Maestro F. Domingo de S. Thomás de la orden de S. Domingo , with commentary by Jan Szemiñski (ed.), Lima: Santo Oficio. Flower, Harriet (1996), Ancestor Masks and Aristocratic Power in Roman Culture , Oxford: Clarendon Press and New York: Oxford University Press. Flores, Isabel (ed.) (2013), Los Wari en Pucllana. La tumba de un sacerdote . Lima: Ministerio de Cultura. Frame, Mary (2010a), Vestidos de la nobleza en los Andes centro y centro-sur en los períodos tardíos , in: Krzysztof Makowski (ed.) Señores de los Imperios del Sol, Colección Arte y Visions of the Inca Dynasty. Narrative Styles, Emblematic Dress and the Power of Ancestors Tesoros del Perú. Lima: Banco de Crédito, pp. 238-259. Frame, Mary, Daniel Guerrero, María del Carmen Vega, and Patricia Landa (2004), Un fardo funerario del Horizonte Tardío en el sitio de Rinconada Alta, Rimac , in: Boletín IFEA 33(3), pp. 815-860. Garcilaso de la Vega, el Inca ([1609] 1989 [1966]) Royal Commentaries of the Incas and General History of Peru, Part One , Harold V. Livermore (trans.), with an introduction by Livermore and a foreword by Arnold J. Toynbee, Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Gell, Alfred (1998), Art and Agency . Oxford: Clarenden Press and New York: Oxford University Press. González Holguín, Diego ([1608] 1989), Vocabulario de la lengua general de todo el Perú llamada lengua quichua o del inca , facsimile edicion of the 1952 edition, including addenda, Lima: Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. Guaman Poma de Ayala, Felipe ([ca. 1615] 1980), Nueva corónica y buen gobierno , John V. Murra and Rolena Adorno (eds.) with translations by Jorge Urioste. México, D.F.: Siglo XX. 85 (1615/1616), El primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno . København: Det Kongelige Bibliotek, GKS 2232 4°, The Guaman Poma Website. A Digital Research Center of the Royal Library, Copenhagen, Denmark, accessed February 15, 2014. http://www.kb.dk/permalink/2006/poma/ info/en/frontpage.htm Guillén, Sonia (2003), De Chinchorro a Chiribaya. Los ancestros de los Mallquis Chachapoya-Inca , in: Boletín de Arqueología PUCP 7, pp. 287-303. Julien, Catherine (2000), Reading Inca History , Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press. Katterman, Grace (2007), Clothing from Quebrada de la Vaca West. An Inca Cemetery on the South Coast of Peru , in: Andean Past 8, pp. 219-252. López-Baralt, Mercedes (1993), Guaman Poma. Autor y artista , Lima: Fondo Editorial PUCP. Martínez C., José Luis (1995), Autoridades en los Andes. los atributos del Señor , Lima: Fondo Editorial PUCP. Mostny, Greta (1957-1959), La Momia del Cerro El Plomo , in: Boletín del Museo Nacional de Historia Natural 27(1), pp. 3-119, plates 1-22, and map. 86 R efer en c es C i t ed Murúa, Martín de ([c. 1590] 2004), Historia de los incas. Códice Murúa, historia y genealogía de los reyes incas del Perú del padre mercenario Fray Martín de Murúa , Vol. 1 códice Galvin, with an essay by Juan Ossio, Vol. 2, Historia del origen y genealogía real de los reyes ingas del Piru. Original perteneciente a la colección particular de Sean Galvin [facsimile]. Madrid: Testimonio Compañía Editorial. ([ca.1590-98] 2008), Historia General del Piru. Facsimile of J. Paul Getty Museum Ms. Ludwig XIII 16/Martín de Murúa , Vol. 1 of a boxed set (Vol. 2 is The Getty Murúa. Essays on the Making of Martín de Murúa’s Historia General del Piru, J. Paul Getty Museum Ms. Ludwig XIII 16). Thomas B. F. Cummins and Barbara Anderson (eds.), Los Angeles, CA: Getty Research Institute. Ossio, Juan M (2008), Murúa’s Two Manuscripts. A Comparison , The Getty Murúa. Essays on the Making of Martín de Murúa’s “Historia General del Piru”, J. Paul Getty Ms. Ludwig XIII 16, Thomas B. F. Cummins and Barbara Anderson (eds.), Los Angeles: Getty Research Institute, pp. 77-94. Pachacuti Yamqui, Juan de la Santa Cruz ([1613] 1993), Relación de antigüedades deste reyno del Perú , with an ethnohistorical and linguistic essay by Pierre Duviols and César Itier, Lima: Travaux de l’Institut Français d’Etudes Andines 74. Peters, Ann H. (2009), El cementerio de Paracas Necrópolis. Un mapa social complejo , in: Ana Verde Casanova et al., Mantos para la eternidad. Textiles Paracas del antiguo Perú , Madrid: Ministerio de Cultura, pp. 27-36. (2010), Paracas. Liderazgo social, memoria histórica y lo sagrado en la necrópolis de Wari Kayan , in: Krzysztof Makowski (ed.) Señores de los imperios del sol , Colección Arte y Tesoros del Perú, Lima: Banco de Crédito, pp. 211-223. Quilter, Jeffrey and Gary Urton (eds.) (2002), Narrative Threads. Accounting and Recounting in Andean Khipu , Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Reinhard, Johan and María Constanza Ceruti (2000), Investigaciones arqueológicas en Cerro Llullaillaco , Salta: Ediciones Universidad Católica de Salta. Reiss, Wilhelm and Alphons Stübel (18801887), The Necropolis of Ancon in Perú. A Contribution to our Understanding of the Culture and Industries of the Empire of the Incas, Being the Result of Excavations Made on the Spot , Berlin: A. Asher and Co. Copy at Widener Library, Harvard University retrieved February 15, 2014: http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:FHCL:320519 Rodman, Amy Oakland (1992), Textiles and Ethnicity. Tiwanaku in San Pedro de Atacama, North Chile , in: Latin American Antiquity 3(4), pp. 316-340. Rowe, Ann P. (2014), Technical Reflections of Highland-Coastal Relationships in Late Prehispanic Textiles from Chillon and Chancay, in: Denise Y. Arnold and Penny Dransart (eds.) Textiles. Technical Practice and Power in the Andes , London: Archetype, pp. 154-188. Rowe, John H. (1946), Inca Culture at the Time of the Spanish Conquest , in: Julian Steward (ed.), Handbook of South American Indians, Vol. 2. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution, Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin 143, Government Printing Office, pp. 183-330. (1979), Standardization in Inca Tunics , in: Anne Pollard Rowe, Elizabeth B. Benson, and Anne-Louise Schaffer (eds.), The Junius B. Bird Pre-Columbian Textile Conference, Washington, DC: Textile Museum and Dumbarton Oaks, pp. 239-264. Sarmiento de Gamboa, Pedro ([1572] 1999), History of the Incas , with an Introduction by Clements Markham, facsimile edition of Ann H. Peters the 1907 Hakluyt Society edition, Clements Markham (ed.). Mineola, NY: Dover Publications. Schobinger, Juan (ed.) (2001), El santuario Incaico del Cerro Aconcagua . Mendoza: Editorial de la Universidad Nacional de Cuyo. Stothert, Karen E. (1979), Unwrapping an Inca Mummy Bundle , in: Archaeology (July/August), pp. 8-17. Tello, Julio C. (1959), Paracas. Primera parte , Lima: Institute of Andean Research. Tello, Julio C. (2012), Wari Kayan , (incorporates the contributions of various other scholars), Cuaderno del Archivo Tello 9, Lima: Museo de Arqueología y Antropología, Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. Tiballi, Anne (2010), Imperial Subjectivities. The Archaeological Materials from the Cemetery of the Sacrificed Women, Pachacamac, Peru. PhD dissertation, State University of New York at Binghamton. Visions of the Inca Dynasty. Narrative Styles, Emblematic Dress and the Power of Ancestors 87 88 MONICA BARNES H O W D I D H U Á N U C O PA M PA B E C O M E A R U I N ? F R O M T H R I V I N G S E T T L E M E N T TO D I S A P P E A R I N G WA L L S Monica Barnes How Did Huánuco Pampa Become a Ruin? From Thriving Settlement to Disappearing Walls 89 Introduction Although taphonomy is crucial to the formation of the archaeological record, we can seldom reconstruct its vectors in detail. However, in rare instances, by employing a variety of historical and archaeological techniques, we can discover what happened to an archaeological site from its abandonment until the present. In this article I focus on a large Inca provincial installation, Huánuco Pampa. I emphasize the processes by which Huánuco Pampa went from being a thriving Inca imperial center on the main highland road to a remote ruin disappearing from the landscape. Understanding what happened to the site in the centuries since its occupation by the Inca is essential to the reconstruction of its states, functions, and meanings at various points in the past, and at present. In 1965 anthropologist John Victor Murra made many changes at Huánuco Pampa with the help of Peruvian archaeologist Luis Barreda Murillo, North American archaeology graduate students E. Craig Morris and Daniel E. Shea, Peace Corps volunteers, and local farmers, including Delfín Zúñiga Díaz who became Craig Morris’s long-term assistant and companion. These alterations have been under-reported (Murra and Hadden 1966), but a record of them exists in the archives of the American Museum of Natural History (AMNH) (Barnes 2013c). The realization that Murra had substantially altered the site before the independent project of Craig Morris in the 1970s, and subsequent excavations directed by José Pino Matos, and by Carlo José Alonso Ordóñez Inga motivates my search for written records and illustrations of Huánuco Pampa that have accumulated from the 1530s to the 1960s, when John Murra changed it forever. These are sufficiently numerous and fine–grained to allow me to reconstruct how Huánuco Pampa, once a great city, has, to a large and increasing extent, been reduced to attenuated piles of stone. 1 In colonial and early republican times, Huánuco Pampa was not isolated. It remained on the main road linking Cusco and Quito, and was a stop on the Correos, the oicial mail route (Sobreviela 1790). Ironically, given the many modifications that Huánuco Pampa has undergone, perhaps because of its present-day isolation, it has the reputation of being pristine. For example, John Hemming claimed that, “The tumbled grey stones of the city’s houses and platform temples lie disturbed only by the deterioration of time . . .” (Hemming 1970, p. 68). Would that it were so. 1 90 Huánuco Pampa in Inca and Early Colonial Times In the early 1530s, during the Spanish invasion of the Andes, Huánuco Pampa was a “new Cusco”, that is, a site with many of the features of Cusco itself, including a sun temple. This is most likely the structure formerly known as the “Castillo”, which has been recognized as an ushnu or ritual platform that also functioned as an astronomical observatory. Serving the sun temple was a large group of acclla, consecrated virgins. Male priests were also associated with the temple. Sacrifices were made of children, gold, silver, clothing, feathers, chicha, and food. There was an Inca palace including a ritual bath. Exceptionally large plazas and numerous great halls (kallankas) were the venues for grand feasts. Major tambo facilities included accommodation for travelers, corrals for their llamas, and food and water for both humans and beasts of burden. Huánuco Pampa was a hub of redistribution. Supplies paid as taxes to the Incas were warehoused in the hundreds of collcas (storehouses) at and near the site. In addition, Huánuco Pampa seems to have been a textile production center. All this implies the presence of high administrators, the military, and chaskis, in addition to the priests and sacred virgins (Albornoz [1581-1585] 1989, p. 176; Barnes 2013a; Cieza de León [1553] 1962, Chapter LXXX, p. 229; Guaman Poma de Ayala [ca. 1615] 1980, pp. 161-162, 267, 241, 320, 295, 336, 308, 1087; Morris and Thompson 1985, p. 83-108; Pino M. 2005; Vázquez de Espinosa [1628] 1972, item 1361, p. 486, item 1565, p. 582). Huánuco Pampa stands at approximately 3900 meters above sea level, on an extensive cold plain. It is surrounded by pastures, but is at the upper level for tuber cultivation. For reasons that had to do with the collapse of the Inca religious, political, economic, and military systems, Huánuco Pampa was abandoned by most of its indigenous inhabitants almost immediately upon the arrival of the conquistadores. Although the Iberians tried to reestablish it as a Spanish town, that effort quickly failed, and the community moved to the present site of Huánuco some 150 kilometers away. By the early 1600s, cattle and sheep grazed in and around the ruins and only a hacienda, a minor tambo, and perhaps a bath were maintained on the site (Vazquez de Espinosa 1942 [1628], item 1361, p. 486). This was managed by a few families, a situation that continued until recently. Today, in addition to being a ranch, and a wildlife sanctuary, Huánuco Pampa is a famous archaeological site, and is once again an active festival center. Monica Barnes How Did Huánuco Pampa Become a Ruin? From Thriving Settlement to Disappearing Walls 91 Figure 1 Fiesta of people from Chinchaysuyu as celebrated at Huánuco Pampa and Paucar Pampa. From Guaman Poma de Ayala (ca. 1615), The Royal Library Copenhagen, GKS 2232 4º, [p.320(322)], [Drawing 125] [Fiesta de los Chincai Suyo, Uaucu Taqui, Vacon]. The Destruction of Huánuco Pampa Among the last people to see Huánuco Pampa in its full Inca splendor were the members of a joint party led by Atahualpa’s commander Chillicuchima and Hernando Pizarro. While traveling to Cajamarca, the expedition stopped at Huánuco Pampa, arriving on 28 March 1553 and departing on 31 March. At Huánuco they were entertained splendidly by Pumahanchis, the center’s lord (Xerez [1534] 1917, pp. 98-99). Celebrations at Huánuco Pampa were still remembered almost eighty years later when Guaman Poma de Ayala illustrated a festival dance called Wawku as it was performed there (Guaman Poma [ca. 1615] 1980, pp. 294-296) (Figure 1). Massive celebrations have been confirmed by archaeology (Morris et al. 2011, p. 213; Morris and Thompson 1985, pp. 90-91). 92 Warfare Huánuco Pampa’s position on the main Inca highland road, coupled with its abundance of stone walls, insured that it was often the site of military action. Significant damage to the site occurred through warfare, especially in the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries. This began in the 1530s when Spanish forces pursued Quisquis, one of Atahuallpa’s generals (Hemming 1970, p. 141). Throughout the 1530s, Spaniards on the Pampa de Huánuco were harassed by Illathupa, an indigenous warlord (Varallanos 1959, p. 125132). According to Guaman Poma, Huánuco Pampa was burnt during the Spanish Civil Wars that erupted immediately after the conquest ([ca. 1615] 1980, pp. 441, 390). Indeed, in some of their excavations Craig Morris and Daniel E. Shea found evidence of burning around this time, but were unable to date it specifically (Morris 1980, pp. 210-211; Shea 1966, p. 116, 1968, pp. 20, 24-25). In the Inca palace section of the site, centered around slits and doorways, there is the kind of spalling of the stonework that would most likely occur if riflemen were trying to eliminate snipers protected by the palace (see Barnes 2013a for an illustration of this damage). In addition, a lintel of one of the aligned portals leading to the ushnu plaza has had a large piece knocked out of it since sometime before 1905 Fig. 15.3 (Paz Soldàn 1906, plate 4; see also Figure 7). This is the kind of damage one would expect from cannon shot. The fracture planes indicate that the cannon was within the palace, firing outward in the direction of the ushnu. Artillery damage can, in fact, be seen on the ushnu walls (Figure 2). Analysis of the battle scars on the stones of Huánuco Pampa should allow us to plot the positions of the combatants. When could artillery fire have left its marks on Huánuco Pampa? We have mentioned the resistance to the Spanish conquest, and the Civil Wars of the mid-16th century. However, the damage most likely occurred during the nineteenth century. It could have been sustained at the time of the Indian uprising known as the Revolution of 1812, when forces opposing Spanish rule were pursued from the city of Huánuco to the area west of Huánuco Pampa. The site could also have been damaged in 1824 during the Peruvian War of Independence, when Simon Bolivar marched through Aguamiro (now known as La Unión), the nearest town to Huánuco Pampa (Varallanos 1959, p. 517). Monica Barnes How Did Huánuco Pampa Become a Ruin? From Thriving Settlement to Disappearing Walls 93 Figure 2 East wall of ushnu, Huánuco Pampa. August 1965. Gordon Hadden cuts and burns vegetation growing on the wall, in preparation for reconstruction. Pock marks on wall may have been made by artillery ire. Photo by John Victor Murra, Rollo 7, foto 8, John Victor Murra Archive, Junius Bird Laboratory of South American Archaeology, Division of Anthropology, American Museum of Natural History. 2 Huánuco Pampa is not the only important archaeological site to have served as a modern battleground. For example, during World War II, beginning on 9 September 1943, the ancient Greek colony at Paestum, Italy was the center of the American sector during the landing of the Allies in and around the city of Salerno. Fighting continued for nine days. One of its temples was used as an American ield hospital. http://nuke.montecassinotour.com/OPERA TIONAVALANCHETHELANDINGATSALERNO/ tabid/86/Default.aspx (accessed 22 April 2015). I believe, however, that the artillery damage to Huánuco Pampa occurred during the War of the Pacific when more than six thousand Chilean soldiers pursued Peruvian resistance fighters from the city of Huánuco, towards Huarás (Varallanos 1959, p. 565). At dawn on 10 June 1883 the Chileans attacked the Peruvians who had spent the night on the Pampa de Huánuco. I believe that they sheltered in the ruins of Huánuco Pampa, the most defensible position in the area. In additional to rifles, cannons and dynamite were used in the struggle. When the battle was over at about 3:30 P.M. one hundred Peruvians were dead. Many others were wounded and all the survivors were taken as prisoners to La Unión where they were executed (Varallanos 1959, p. 562-570). 2 94 Battlefield archaeology, such as that conducted at Little Big Horn in North America (http://www.friendslittlebighorn.com/Archaeology.htm, accessed 22 March 2015) would normally be able to test my interpretation. Unfortunately, deposits around the monumental gateways were removed in 1965, apparently without sieving or detailed recording, thus limiting the possibilities for future research in areas key to the battle. In addition, the finds from the 1965 excavations have been lost (Barnes et al. 2012, p. 268, note 3). Daniel Shea’s discovery of “a piece of gold braid as if from a uniform” during his excavation of a structure immediately to the southwest of the ushnu is an intriguing hint (Shea 1968, p. 20). Figure 3 Aerial photograph of the central portion of Huánuco Pampa, c. 1965 [?]. Magenta arrows indicate buildings in the central plaza which do not appear on plans of Huánuco Pampa. Photograph courtesy of the Servicio Aerofotográico Nacional (SAN), Perú and the Junius Bird Laboratory of South American Archaeology, Division of Anthropology, American Museum of Natural History. Monica Barnes How Did Huánuco Pampa Become a Ruin? From Thriving Settlement to Disappearing Walls 95 Quarrying Since its abandonment by the Incas, Huánuco Pampa has served as a source of stone. When Spanish settlers built their new town there, they seem to have done so mostly in the ushnu plaza. This is usually depicted as empty, but, in fact, there are some thirtyeight standing buildings within it (Morris 1980, p. 211; Morris et al. 2011, p. 62, figure 3.1). In addition, there are other structures that appear on air photographs but which are apparently not visible from the ground (Figure 3). Although it has never been categorically demonstrated in excavations (Barnes 2013b; Shea 1968) that these buildings were Figure 4 Chapel at Huánuco Pampa. Note Inca ashlars that make up its foundation and atrium wall. Rollo 3, foto 11, John Victor Murra Archive, Junius Bird Laboratory of South American Archaeology, Division of Anthropology, American Museum of Natural History. 96 constructed by the Spanish, Spanish use has been confirmed and the visible structures are generally understood to represent the first steps towards the establishment of a Spanish urban grid (Harth-terré 1964, pp. 2, 16, 17; Morris 1980, pp. 211, 213, figures 1, 2; Morris et al. 2011, pp. 61-77). Assuming this is the case, the Spaniards seem to have looted stones from the site to build their own houses, rather than simply moving into extant buildings. Thus, the use of Huánuco Pampa as a quarry began almost immediately upon its abandonment by the Incas. This continued through the eighteenth century as indicated by a measured plan executed by Padre Manuel Sobreviela and Alonso de la Sierra in 1786. Sobreviela and Sierra depict walls that had disappeared or become very hard to discern by the mid-twentieth century, but they also show Huánuco Pampa in a ruinous state with roofless and incomplete buildings (Barnes 2013a, Abb. 15.6). However, north of the Inca palace, there is a cluster of structures indicated as in use when the plan was made. These include the hacienda chapel, a building that still exists and which bears a date of 1714 (Figure 4). The chapel foundation and atrium wall of Inca stones have remained apparently unaltered, except for some growth of sod around them. Some very long stones are incorporated into the wall. These seem to be indicated on Sobreviela and Sierra’s plan. Almost certainly they are lintels removed from Inca buildings at Huánuco Pampa. The mining of Huánuco Pampa for construction stones can also be seen with the main stairway to the ushnu platform. In the late eighteenth century, Tadeo Haenke described the staircase as “. . . de una proporción tan agradable que parece hecha con el mayor arte” (Haenke [1799] 1901, p. 201). This does not accord with the crudely made steps to the top of the platform that are evident in John Murra’s earliest photographs, nor with George Squier’s depiction of what he called “an inclined plane” that fell short of its goal (Squier 1887, p. 217-218). A study of photographs made by ornithologist John Todd Zimmer in December 1922 and housed in Chicago’s Field Museum, combined with 1964 field notes by John L. Cotter and by Donald E. Thompson, reveal what happened to the staircase. A local man, Zósimo Loyola, reported that in his father’s time the stairs were removed to make a cross for the Señor de Mayo celebration. Cotter comments that “there is a pile of stone, some cut, at the southeast corner of the castillo platform, but if this was the site of the ‘cross’ there are not enough stones to account for the steps” (Cotter 1964, p. 1, cited in Barnes 2013b, Monica Barnes How Did Huánuco Pampa Become a Ruin? From Thriving Settlement to Disappearing Walls 97 p. 293; see also Thompson 1964, p. 5). However, Zimmer’s photograph of that corner of the ushnu platform shows a large pile of ashlars supporting a small cross (Barnes 2013b, figure 2). The staircase was further altered during excavation and reconstruction by Daniel Shea in 1965 (Shea 1966) and by excavations decades later by archaeologists working for Peru’s Ministerio de Cultura. The looting of Huánuco Pampa proceeded during the twentieth century. Peruvian engineer Eduardo Paz Soldàn, who visited the site on 5 June 1905, and who was apparently the first to publish photographs taken there, stated that many stones had been removed from buildings in the eastern sector by muleteers who used them to construct corrals for their animals (Paz Soldàn 1906, p. 100). At the time, mule trains were the only means of transporting goods across the Andes, and the damage they may have done is considerable. Peruvian architect Emilio Harth-terré took photographs of the site and made a plan of the central portion that he published in 1964. He decried the steady damage from his first visit in 1934 to his fifth in 1960 (Harth-terré 1964). Sadly, a comparison of the many photographs taken by John Murra and his team in the mid-1960s with what still exists at the site today makes it clear that much stone has been removed since Harth-terré and Murra observed it. Treasure Hunting In spite of its present remoteness, like almost all major precolumbian sites, Huánuco Pampa has been damaged by anonymous persons excavating for gold or other treasures. Perhaps this has been unwittingly encouraged by writers such as Antonio Raimondi who speculated that Huánuco Pampa contained a system of underground tunnels (Raimondi 1902). Some of the damage occurred prior to 1922 when John Todd Zimmer photographed the site. A keyhole-shaped gap in the east wall of the ushnu that appears in later photos had already been made (Figure 5). Daniel Shea observed that Squier’s mid-nineteenth century illustration of the ushnu is so accurate that it shows a stone missing in the bottom of the east entrance to the top, but the hole in the wall is not visible (Shea 1968, p. 11). We can, thus, tentatively date the creation of the breech to after the 1860s, when Squier saw the ushnu, but before 1922. 98 Figure 5 Hole in the masonry of the east wall of the ushnu platform of Huánuco Pampa as it appeared in August 1965 before being repaired by John Murra’s team. Rollo 16, foto 7(A), John Victor Murra Archive, Junius Bird Laboratory of South American Archaeology, Division of Anthropology, American Museum of Natural History. Much of the huaquero damage to the site is not as obvious today as it is in old photographs, because it was visually repaired by John Murra’s team in 1965. It is, therefore, difficult to assess the extent of looting, but Murra’s photos and an unpublished plan by Daniel Shea, incorporated into his master’s thesis (Shea 1968, figure 10) and preserved as a copy in the Junius Bird Laboratory in the AMNH indicate some areas where it took place (Figure 6). Figure 6 Plan of ushnu, Huánuco Pampa, showing Daniel E. Shea’s 1965 excavations. Plan courtesy of Jennifer Shea and the John Victor Murra Archive, Junius Bird Laboratory of South American Archaeology, Division of Anthropology, American Museum of Natural History. 100 Extirpation of idolatry Among the most emblematic features of Huánuco Pampa are animals carved on stones placed in key architectural positions. These include three sets of two facing one another in profile, executed in bas relief on stones near the lintels of three of the aligned monumental portals that lead westward from the Inca palace to the ushnu Plaza. The animals are stylized, and may have been unfinished at the time the site was abandoned. They are, therefore, hard to identify specifically, but they share features with felines, lizards, and monkeys. One of these pairs has been literally defaced, with the heads chipped off. This damage had already been done by 1923 when Zimmer photographed the site (Figure 7). Other portals in the series are missing stones where figures may once have been. Four pairs of animals stand butt-to-butt atop the cap-stones flanking the twin entrances to the top of the ushnu platform. Although wind erosion on these figures at first glance appears to have been severe, it can be estimated by comparing the earliest known accurate illustrations with their present state. In 1880, in his book Perou et Bolivie, Charles Wiener published frontal and lateral views of pairs of these animals. Wiener’s engravings do not depict clear features on these sculptures, suggesting that they were not crisp when he made his observations. In 1902, Antonio Raimondi described the animals as “casi destruido por la intemperie” (Raimondi 1902, p. 400). Photographs of the sculpture were taken by John Todd Zimmer in 1922, by Donald Collier in 1937, by Pedro Rojas Ponce in 1958, and by various members of John Murra’s team in the 1960s. 3 Very little erosion appears to have occurred from the 1880s to the 1960s. A recent photograph shows a healthy lichen growth, apparently uninhibited by wind. Furthermore, tool marks are visible on the bodies of the animals. This seems to indicate that their indistinct appearance is not due to erosion. However, at least one of the animals appears to have had its face knocked off, perhaps deliberately. Why would some of these carvings have been damaged, seemingly on purpose? Although simple vandalism or destruction during warfare is possible, I suggest that the defacement may have been done during the extirpation of idolatries campaigns carried out in the Andes in early colonial times. Cristóbal de Albornoz, a prominent cleric who led such campaigns in Peru in the 1560s and 70s, mentioned the ushnu at Huánuco el Viejo (Huánuco Pampa) in a context that implies its general importance. He states that it was to be destroyed (Albornoz [1581-1585] 1989, p. 176). However, it would have been difficult 3 Photos by Collier, Rojas, and Murra’s team are housed in the Junius Bird Laboratory, AMNH. Monica Barnes Figure 7 Portal, Huánuco Pampa in 1923. Note that a piece of the lintel has been knocked out. Photograph CSA4644 by John Todd Zimmer courtesy of the Field Museum of Natural History. How Did Huánuco Pampa Become a Ruin? From Thriving Settlement to Disappearing Walls 101 to utterly eliminate the ushnu in an era when this could only have been done by tearing it down stone-by-stone, or by exploding it with a massive amount of expensive gunpowder. I suggest that by literally defacing their distinctive, and mostly likely sacred sculptures, the ushnu and processional route of Huánuco Pampa could have been considered neutralized. 102 Ranching and farming From at least the early seventeenth century, until the 1960s, the great halls known as the North and South Kallankas were used as cattle pens (Vazquez de Espinosa [1628] 1942, item 1361, p. 486). Deposits within buildings in the Inca Palace section of the site were exceptionally thick until removed by Murra’s workers, perhaps due to this use. Because potatoes can be cultivated at Huánuco Pampa, ploughing has disturbed deposits in many parts of the site. This can be seen in John Murra’s photographs housed in the Junius Bird Laboratory and photographs by Victor Van Hagen in the AMNH library. The areas within, and adjacent to, ancient and modern walls are particularly vulnerable because they are sheltered, and thus make cultivation more feasible. Figure 8 Pirwa, a storage bundle of straw, rope, and foodstufs found in one of the collcas excavated by Craig Morris in 1965. Photograph by Mahlon A. Barash. Monica Barnes How Did Huánuco Pampa Become a Ruin? From Thriving Settlement to Disappearing Walls 103 Although Huánuco Pampa’s famous collcas have been roofless since at least the eighteenth century, they retained some of their functionality as first described by Craig Morris in his doctoral dissertation (Morris 1967). Their position on a cool, windy hillside, and features such as drainage canals, prompted their continued use for storage at least until the middle of the twentieth century, in spite of their ruinous condition. Within the collcas Morris observed both ancient and modern pirwas, storage bundles consisting of potatoes separated and wrapped with straw and fastened with rope. (Morris 1967, pp. 92-93, 9697) (Figure 8). Morris did not clarify how he distinguished between Inca and modern bundles, but samples of potatoes, maize, and straw from the collcas are housed in the Junius Bird Laboratory and their ages could, perhaps, be tested by radiocarbon dating. In July 1964, in one of the collcas that is square in plan, Donald E. Thompson observed a sort of modern sod hut in which seed potatoes were stored (John Murra Archive, Junius Bird Laboratory of South American Archaeology, Division of Anthropology, American Museum of Natural History, Roll 18, photo 4). With this adaptation the Huánuco Pampa storehouses could continue to be used. The modern storage practices mentioned by Morris and Thompson provide a means by which recent organic material may have been introduced into the archaeological site. Another way in which modern foodstuffs can enter the archaeological record is through pachamancas, literally “earth pots”. During these traditional Andean picnics, pits are dug in the ground, lined with straw, filled with meat and tubers, covered with straw and hot stones or coals, and allowed to cook gradually. Huánuco Pampa has long been a favorite spot for pachamancas (Shea 1968, p. 23) and continues to be so today. Archaeological Excavation and Architectural Reconstruction One the greatest reshapings of Huánuco Pampa occurred in 1965 when, under the overall direction of John Victor Murra, major portions of the monumental sectors were rapidly excavated and reconstructed. Work was supported by a grant from the Patronato Nacional de Arqueología, the Peruvian government entity then responsible for the country’s prehispanic sites. An evaluation of this work has already been published (Barnes 2013c), so it will only be summarized here. Excavations and reconstructions occurred in and 104 around the ushnu platform, in the area of the aligned portals, in the bath, in the so-called “Unfinished Temple”, and in the North Kallanka. Murra’s team also reconstructed and reroofed the best preserved of the storehouses on the Hill of the Collcas, an early project in experimental archaeology (Barnes 2013a, Abb. 15.9). In addition to reconstructing the stone walls of Huánuco Pampa, John Murra’s team undertook what he called “limpieza” or “cleaning” of deposits he thought to be “overburden”. That is, anything from the ground surface, to what Murra considered to be pristine Inca floors, was removed and deposited on spoil heaps. Ironically, Murra’s workers were removing and destroying the very evidence of Inca occupation he hoped to find. Reconstruction and excavation of Huánuco Pampa continues today under the auspices of Peru’s Ministerio de Cultura (Perú, Ministerio de Cultura 2014). Miscellaneous uses of Huánuco Pampa Over the years Huánuco Pampa has been put to many miscellaneous uses in addition to the ones already mentioned. Although ranching and tuber cultivation prevent it from being a pristine natural environment, the area encompassing the site has contributed to our knowledge of the highland Peruvian flora and fauna. In the 1790s it was visited both by botanist Tadeo Haenke of the Malaspina Expedition (Haenke [1799] 1901), and by the Franco-Spanish botanical expedition led by Hipólito Ruíz López and José Antonio Pavón y Jiménez (Barnes 2008, p. 619). Ornithologist John Todd Zimmer was at the site in 1922 under the auspices of the Captain Marshall Field Expeditions, a broad endeavor in natural history sponsored by the Field Museum. Huánuco Pampa is still recognized as a wildlife sanctuary (Perú, Ministerio de Cultura, Qhapaq Ñan ca. 2013). The main ushnu platform was used in the twentieth century as a cemetery for unbaptized infants because it was “blessed” (Thompson 1964, p. 5). That is, it was not ground hallowed officially by the Catholic Church, but it was, nevertheless, viewed as sacred. Therefore, it is a fit resting place for those who died before they could become Christians. Huánuco is also the site of traditional offerings. These are deposited in two places, Jirkagarakuna, a spring, (“Garakuna” means the place where one give gifts) and in the Kushipata, the bath plaza (ibid.). Huánuco Pampa being a “new Cusco”, perhaps the rites performed there mirror those of Cusco’s Cusipata. Monica Barnes How Did Huánuco Pampa Become a Ruin? From Thriving Settlement to Disappearing Walls 105 Clearing of stones from the surface of Huánuco Pampa by John Murra’s team allowed the site’s vast open spaces to be used as soccer pitches. It has served as a campsite and its stones have even been used in ad hoc vehicle repairs. No doubt the site has had other uses that have escaped my scrutiny. Festivals As mentioned above, the first known illustration of Huánuco Pampa is by Guaman Poma de Ayala and depicts a ritual dance. The site remains a venue for celebrations. Peru’s Ministry of Culture encourages local people to take symbolic ownership by holding events there (Figure 9). The ritual year is rather full. In May the Señor de Mayo fiesta, the Feast of the Holy Cross, is celebrated at Huánuco Pampa (personal communication, Carlo José Alonso Ordóñez Inga, 21 May 2013) as it has been since at least the early twentieth century (Barnes 2013b). Every June, for the past seven years, the Ministerio de Cultura’s Qhapaq Ñan project has sponsored an Encuentro de la Cultura Autóctona de Chinchaysuyu (Meeting of the Autochthonous Culture of Chinchaysuyu) at Huánuco Pampa. On the first day there are “Actividades Ancestrales”, traditional tasks held as competitions. On the second day of the Encuentro there are costumed dances (Perú, Ministerio de Cultura, Qhapaq Ñan 2013). An Inti Raymi celebration has been re-invented for Huánuco Pampa, following the reintroduction of that fiesta in Cusco during the early twentieth century. At Huánuco Pampa this is occurs not during the actual June Solstice, but during the Fiestas Patrias, Peru’s major national patriotic holiday, July 28 and 29. In addition to these, every December 8-10, the feast of La Purísima, the Virgin of the Immaculate Conception, has been celebrated both on the ushnu, and in and around the colonial chapel, since sometime prior to 1965 when Donald Thompson was told that it was sponsored by the owner of the hacienda encompassing Huánuco Pampa (Thompson1964, Sunday, July 12, p. 4). In all of the celebrations held at Huánuco Pampa neo-pagan elements are incorporated into Christian feasts and Christian elements are blended into neo-pagan festivals (Figure 9). 106 Monica Barnes How Did Huánuco Pampa Become a Ruin? From Thriving Settlement to Disappearing Walls 107 Conclusion In a very real sense Huánuco Pampa has regained its position as a place where large gatherings occur. It has gone from being a thriving ritual center, to a ruin, and then to a ruin which is, nevertheless, a thriving ritual center. In the meantime, much of its form has been altered, and even destroyed. It is important to keep this in mind when thinking about the site as it was in Inca times. The changes Huánuco Pampa has undergone are paradigmatic of those at other Andean sites whose colonial and republican histories we cannot reconstruct in such detail. Although Huánuco Pampa is often described as pristine, over the centuries the site has not remained untouched by time, human hands, and bovine feet. It has always had its uses for those inhabitants who did not desert the Pampa de Huánuco, as well as for people, such as soldiers, muleteers, archaeologists, re-enactors, and tourists who have come to it for short periods of time. Ackknowledgements I am grateful to Mahlon A. Barash for sharing photographs taken at Huánuco Pampa from 1965 to the present. Many of my insights were obtained through a close study of the visual material he produced. I also thank Sumru Aricanli for her help with my research on John Victor Murra’s “A Study of Provincial Inca Life” project, and Jennifer Shea for her permission to publish aspects of her late husband’s work. Figure 9 Inti Raymi, Huánuco Pampa, 2013. Photograph by Mahlon A. Barash. 108 R efer en c es C i t ed U n p u b l i sh ed d o c u men t s P u b l i ca t i o n s Cotter, John L. (1964), Field Journal, July 10-July 26 , Archives of the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Albornoz, Cristóbal de ([1581-85] 1989), Instrucción para descubrir todas las guacas del Piru y sus camayos y haziendas , in: Fábulas y mitos de los incas, Henrique Urbano and Pierre Duviols (eds.), Madrid: Historia 16, pp. 161-198. Guaman Poma de Ayala, Felipe (ca. 1615), Nueva corónica y buen gobierno , Danish Royal Library, GKS 2232 4º. Sobreviela, Padre Manuel (1790), Plan de las montañas fronterizas a la gentilidad en los confines del vireinato del Perù desde el obispado de Guamanga al de Truxillo , British Library, Add. MS. 17673ª. Sobreviela, Padre Manuel and Lorenzo de la Sierra (1786) , Plan del palacio destinado para baño de los yncas en el partido de Huamalies con el nombre de Huanuco el viexo . British Library, Add. MS. 17671. Thompson, Donald E. (1964), Huánuco Pampa Field Notes, Junius Bird Laboratory of South American Archaeology, Division of Anthropology, American Museum of Natural History, New York, New York. Barnes, Monica (2008) Ruíz López, Hipólito (1754-1816), and José Antonio Pavón y Jiménez (1754-1840?) , in: Guide to Documentary Sources for Andean Studies, 1530-1900, Vol. 3 M-Z, Joanne Pillsbury (ed.). Norman OK: University of Oklahoma Press in collaboration with the Center for Advanced Study in the Visual Arts, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., pp. 619-623. (2013a) Huánuco Pampa , in: Inka. Könige der Anden, Inés de Castro and Doris Kurella (eds.), Darmstadt/Mainz: Philipp von Zabern, pp. 153-168. (2013b) John L. Cotter’s Excavations at Huánuco Pampa and his Role in the Regional Survey (1964) , in: Andean Past 11, pp. 291-300. (2013c) John Victor Murra, Arqueólogo accidental. De Cerro Narrío a Huánuco Pampa , in: Historia de la arqueología en el Perú, siglo XX, Henry Tantaleán and César Astahuamán (eds.), Lima: Institut Francés de Estudios Andinos [IFEA], Actes & Memoires 34, pp. 551-574. Barnes, Monica, Catherine Gaiter, Robert A. Benfer, Jr., and Daniel Shea (2012), A Colonial Human Burial Excavated in 1965 between Portals 5 and 6 at Huánuco Pampa , in: Andean Past 10, pp. 267-274. Cieza de León, Pedro ([1553] 1962), La crónica del Perú , Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, S.A. Guaman Poma de Ayala, Felipe ([ca. 1615] 1980), El primer nueva corónica y buen gobierno , John V. Murra and Rolena Adorno (eds.), with Jorge L. Urioste, México, D.F.: Siglo Veintiuno. Haenke, Tadeo ([1799] 1901), Descripción del Perú , Lima: Imprenta de “El Lucero”. Harth-terré, Emilio (1964), El pueblo de Huánuco-Viejo , in: Arquitecto Peruano 320(21), pp. 1-20. Hemming, John (1970), The Conquest of the Incas , London: MacMillan Limited. Morris, E. Craig (1967), Storage in Tawintinsuyu , Ph.D. dissertation, Chicago, IL: University of Chicago. (1980), The Spanish Occupation of an Inca Administrative City , in: Actes du XLII e Congrès International des Américanistes. Congrès du Centenaire, Paris, 2-9 Septembre 1976 , pp. 211-219. Monica Barnes Morris, Craig, R. Alan Covey, and Pat Stein (2011), The Hu á nuco Pampa Archaeological Project Vol. 1. The Plaza and Palace Complex , New York: American Museum of Natural History Anthropological Papers 96. Morris, Craig and Donald Thompson (1985), Huánuco Pampa. An Inca City and its Hinterland , London: Thames and Hudson. Murra, John V. and Gordon J. Hadden (1966), Apendice. Informe presentado al Patronato Nacional de Arqueología sobre la labor de limpieza y consolidación de Huánuco Viejo , in: Cuadernos de Investigación, Universidad Nacional Hermilio Valdizán, Huánuco-Perú, Antropología 1, pp. 129-144, plus 14 photographic plates. Paz Soldàn, Eduardo (1906), Ruinas de Huánuco Viejo , in: Boletín de la Sociedad Geográfica de Lima Año XVI, Tomo XIX, pp. 98-101, plus 6 photographic plates. Perú, Ministerio de Cultura (2014) Proyecto Qhapaq Ñan realiza trabajos de conservación en Huánuco Pampa , Press Release Number 104-2014-OC11-SG/MC, 13 febrero, Lima, Perú. Perú, Ministerio de Cultura, Qhapaq Ñan (ca. 2013), Huánuco Pampa. Proyecto de investigación, leaflet, Lima, Perú. How Did Huánuco Pampa Become a Ruin? From Thriving Settlement to Disappearing Walls (2013) VI encuentro de la cultura autóctona del Chinchaysuyo. Proyecto Integral Huánuco Pampa , leaflet, Lima, Perú. Pino M., José Luis (2005), El ushnu y la organización espacial astronómica en la sierra central del Chinchaysuyu , in: Estudios Atacameños 29, pp.143-161. Raimondi, Antonio (1902), Ruinas de Huánuco Viejo , in: Boletín de la Sociedad Geográfica de Lima, Año XL, Tomo XI, pp. 397-400. Shea, Daniel Edward (1966), El conjunto arquitectónico central en la Plaza de Huánuco Viejo , in: Cuadernos de Investigación, Universidad Nacional Hermilio Valdizán, Huánuco-Perú, Antropología 1, pp. 108-116. (1968), The Plaza Complex of Huánuco Viejo . Master’s Thesis, Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin, Madison. Squier, E. George (1887), Peru. Incidents of Travel and Exploration in the Land of the Incas , New York: Harper and Brothers. Varallanos, José (1959), Historia de Huánuco. Introducción para el estudio de la vida social de una región del Perú desde la era prehistórica a nuestros días , Buenos Aires: Imprenta López. 109 Vázquez de Espinosa, Antonio ([1628] 1942), Compendium and Description of the West Indies , Charles Upson Clark (trans.), Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections 102(3646). Wiener, Charles (1880), Pérou et Bolivie. Récit de voyage suivi d’études arquéologiques et etnografiques et de notes sur l’écriture et les langues des populations indiennes, Paris: Hachette. Xerez, Francisco de ([1534] 1917), Verdadera relación de la conquista del Perú y provincia del Cuzco ... in Las relaciones de la conquista del Perú por Francisco de Jerez y Pedro Sancho, secretarios oficiales de Don Francisco Pizarro (1532-1533), biographical notes and concordance by Horacio H. Urteaga and biographies by Carlos A. Romero, Colección de Libros y Documentos Referentes a la Historia del Perú, Vol. 5, Lima: Imprenta y Libería Sanmarti y Ca. 110 K Y L I E E . Q UAV E I R . A L A N C O V E Y T H E M AT E R I A L R E M A I N S O F I N C A P O W E R AMONG IMPERIAL HEARTLAND COMMUNITIES Kylie E. Quave / R. Alan Covey The Material Remains of Inca Power among Imperial Heartland Communities 111 By the end of the 13th century CE, campaigns to extend the power of the Inca state began to target local communities outside the Cusco Valley. A century or so of state conquests and administrative intensification in the Cusco region set the stage for generations of rapid imperial growth that commenced around 1400 CE. The subordination of neighboring populations reduced external military threats to the Inca state, while simultaneously concentrating more productive land and labor tribute in the hands of the Inca elite. Royal Inca control over rural landscapes in the Cusco region intensified during the imperial period, but the ways that this affected local societies varied from place to place. By the time of the Spanish conquest in the 1530s, some parts of the Cusco region had undergone significant changes in their settlement patterns and subsistence economies, whereas others experienced a less transformative relationship with the Inca state and its ruling elite. In this paper, we use regional archaeological data from survey projects (Bauer 2004; Covey 2006; Covey [ed.] 2014) as a context for comparing our archaeological excavations from three sites near Cusco (Ak’awillay, Cheqoq, and Pukara Pantillijlla) to discuss the impact of Inca empire building on the everyday lives of local farmers and herders. Our results speak to the variability found within the Inca heartland and the uneven distribution of Inca material culture at the level of communities and households. Our excavations at sites with both pre-Inca and Inca occupations permit us to develop long-term perspectives on local populations and their interactions with, and responses to, the growing Inca state. Figure 1 Locations of Ak’awillay, Cheqoq, and Pukara Pantillijlla, three rural sites near the Inca capital in regions that experienced diferent patterns of interaction with the Inca state. Map by Lia Tsesmeli. 112 Research Sites Our three research sites are in areas with distinct ecological characteristics, settlement histories, and contacts with the Inca state. Ak’awillay is the closest to Cusco in many senses. The site lies just over 20 km to the west of the Inca capital, and its placement–on alluvial terraces just above farmland where maize can be cultivated–resembles the preferred location for villages in the Cusco Valley (Bauer 2004). Early Colonial documents describe some people living in the surrounding Xaquixaguana Valley as early Inca allies, royal marriage partners, and honorary recipients of Inca status (Bauer and Covey 2002; Covey 2006, 2014b). Regional settlement patterns indicate considerable settlement continuity in the Xaquixaguana Valley from pre-Inca times into the imperial period. Ak’awillay, however, may not have shared the same affinities with the early Incas as its neighbors, since surface collections of the 15 hectare occupation from the Late Intermediate Period (ca. 1000-1400 CE, henceforth LIP) yielded lower percentages of Killke style pottery from the Cusco Valley. During imperial times, Ak’awillay shrank to 6.5 hectares as populations shifted closer to new Inca terrace complexes and facilities on the imperial highway from Cusco to the Chinchaysuyu province (Covey 2014b). In 2012, we excavated 21 square meters of test units at Ak’awillay with Vicentina Galiano Blanco as co-director. We focus here on two units (TR-10, TR-11) with evidence of LIP and Inca period domestic activity, as well as a third unit (TR-12) in use only in the Inca period About 10 km to the north of Ak’awillay, Cheqoq and the surrounding Maras area show evidence of more extensive changes to local and regional settlements (Covey 2014a, 2014b). LIP settlement in this area was concentrated in a network of undefended villages surrounding Yunkaray, a 20 hectare town. Within a two-hour walk of Yunkaray lie 120 hectares of LIP settlement, as well as terraced low elevation fields, salt pans, and pasture lands. Surface collections at Maras area LIP sites yielded almost no Inca imperial pottery, indicating widespread abandonment of the local settlement system in the imperial period. Cheqoq represents the sole exception to this decline–the site grew to 22 hectares in the imperial period as noble descent groups extended their economic interests into the area (Quave 2012). According to archival documents, the country estate of the emperor Huayna Capac appropriated resources in the Maras area and settled a diverse provincial retainer population to herd, farm, and produce craft goods (e.g., Archivo Regional del Cusco, Urubamba, Leg. 1, 1594-95; Toledo [1571] 1940, p. 108). The first author directed excavations at Cheqoq in 2009 and 2010, with René Pilco Vargas and Stephanie Pierce Terry as co-directors. Kylie E. Quave / R. Alan Covey The Material Remains of Inca Power among Imperial Heartland Communities 113 From a total excavated area of 252 m2 we focus here on contexts used during the LIP and Inca periods, including a storage structure (Area F), six households of different statuses (Areas G, H, M, N, Q, and R), and an Inca pottery production context (Area U). Although Pukara Pantillijlla is less than 25 km to the northeast of Cusco, its location on a high ridgetop to the north of the Vilcanota-Urubamba River makes it much more difficult to access than Ak’awillay or Cheqoq. The site lies above 3900 meters, at the transition between tuber horticulture and herding. Other pre-Inca sites in the Chongo Basin resemble settlements found elsewhere in the Andean highlands: modest-sized villages were built on prominent hills between lower rain-fed tuber lands and higher grasslands favorable for camelids (Covey 2006). Inca incorporation of the Chongo Basin appears to have stimulated the growth of Pukara Pantillijlla to about 10 hectares before state administration shifted to the royal estate of Pisaq, located near new maize lands on the floor of the Vilcanota-Urubamba Valley. In 2000, Alan Covey excavated more than 200 m2 at the site with Wilfredo Yépez Valdez as co-director, encountering LIP and Inca occupations in interior and exterior units associated with houses and public buildings. Units analyzed here include the structures R-1, R-3, R-4, R-6, R-9, R-10-13, and R-15, as well as several test units. Imperial Canons across the Heartland Region Archaeologists can infer interactions between the Incas and neighboring groups through material remains, which offer multiple lines of evidence for cultural identity and status differences. Although some scholars interpret the local appearance of state-style architecture, ceramics, and other artifacts as evidence of state power, we do not always observe increased frequency or visibility of Inca architecture and ceramics in areas where the historical record describes greater Inca dominance over a local population. Furthermore, we find variable patterns in the distribution of canonical Inca architecture within sites, suggesting that there were multiple ways that Inca power and influence could be experienced within a single rural community. Although Inca elites deployed imperial architecture strategically to communicate their power, state styles of architecture and craft goods also created opportunities for local people to assert status and identity within their communities and in relation to their interactions with the state. 114 The challenges in using state canons to reconstruct power relationships are not unique to the Inca case. State societies develop through interactions between elites, the institutions to which they have disproportionate access, and non-elite populations (e.g., Giddens 1984). These interactions build and distribute networks of social power of different kinds (Mann 1984). Often, scholars have considered the presence of Inca-style goods tantamount to Inca power and influence (e.g., Acuto 2010; D’Altroy et al. 2007; Meyers 2007; Santoro et al. 2010). However, to reconstruct the development of a state society with its elites, state institutions, and subject populations, as seen in the Cusco region, we must employ models of the distribution of different classes of material culture that emphasize the diverse and multidirectional flows of social power. Mann’s category of ideological power illustrates the complexities of conducting such analysis, as it encompasses the norms of everyday life, elite pronouncements of ultimate meaning, as well as the aesthetic and ritual programs that elites and state institutions might use to attempt to alter and control norms (Mann 1984). Such an approach can tie ideological power to the material record, but it calls for a multi-scalar evaluation that considers (1) the power of state elites in creating and promoting new aesthetic and social practices; (2) the power of individuals to access, deploy, or alter such elite programs to establish or enhance their own elite status; and (3) the relative ability of non-elites to maintain established practices of everyday life. This means that it is necessary to identify architecture in the imperial canon and reconstruct its distribution pattern within broader material contexts. For this study, we focus on the definition of “Inca” architecture and ceramic styles, and the ways that they link imperial elites with non-elite populations in Cusco’s rural hinterland. These imperial Inca types are juxtaposed with materials that diverge from the canonical. Our discussion of the distribution of these canonical materials emphasizes that while some contexts exhibit higher fidelity to Inca ceramics and architecture, there are important variations in regional and intrasite distribution patterns, and Inca canonical forms did not displace local norms to a significant degree at many sites. Local people in rural communities appear to have produced, modified, and accepted Inca canons (or not) for multiple reasons, not all of which imply adherence to Inca state ideologies and enthusiastic participation in empire building. Kylie E. Quave / R. Alan Covey The Material Remains of Inca Power among Imperial Heartland Communities 115 Administrative, Ceremonial, and Domestic Architecture Under the Inca, new forms of public and ceremonial architecture appeared in rural contexts (Table 1). At the regional level, rectangular buildings became more common in imperial times, some of which are composed of ashlar masonry and feature other Inca construction elements, such as trapezoidal niches and doorways and large, cut-stone lintels (Gasparini and Margolies 1980; Kendall 1985). Inca rulers and their wives established rural estates in all of our study areas, constructing new agricultural infrastructure and country palaces. New terracing and architectural remains associated with elite residences are present around Zurite, Yucay, and Pisaq, a few hours’ walk from each of our excavation sites (Covey 2006, 2014b, 2014c; Farrington 1992; Farrington and Zapata 2003; Niles 1999). The Incas also built new storage facilities for a variety of elite and administrative functions, usually establishing new complexes outside of existing villages and introducing new building forms and construction techniques (see Covey et al. [n.d.]). Way-stations supporting the imperial highway network introduced other manifestations of the Inca architectural canon to some parts of the rural landscape. Table 1 Building Type Xaquixaguana Valley Maras area Chongo Basin area Examples of new Inca imperial architecture located close to the excavation sites Terracing Zurite Yucay Pisaq Rural palace Tambokancha Quispiwanka Pisaq Storage Xaquixaguana Cheqoq Iglesiayuq Way-station Xaquixaguana VS-188 (?) There is evidence that the Inca architectural canon was extended to local settlements to varying degrees. In place of the round or semicircular structures seen in many LIP settlements, some imperial sites feature square and rectangular houses, which may or may not be laid out in patio groups or associated with long halls (Covey 2009). Our excavations at Cheqoq and Pukara Pantillijlla offer significant contrasts in the prevalence of rectangular forms and their adherence to imperial Inca canons. Inca-style architecture is widespread at Cheqoq, where settlement grew after the disruption of the local settlement system. Inca masonry was used to construct houses, to face domestic and agricultural terraces, and to build massive retaining walls connecting large storage structures (Figure 2). Rectangular single-room structures are common in the residential areas, and these 116 Reconstructed storehouses Area Q, Inca domestic structures in patio arrangement Figure 2 Architecture at Cheqoq. Images by Kylie Quave. Area H, semi-circular Inca domestic structure Kylie E. Quave / R. Alan Covey The Material Remains of Inca Power among Imperial Heartland Communities 117 feature a single doorway on one side and thick walls made with cut stone and mortar. Some of these are arranged in canonical Inca quadrangular patio groups (e.g., Area Q). Quave’s excavations encountered these Inca-style structures, as well as an anomalous domestic building: Area H, a 3-m diameter semi-circular structure built with a combination of rough-cut stones and fine ashlars. Although the semi-circular form is typical for LIP domestic architecture, the use of Inca-style ashlars and preponderance of Inca and Inca-related decorated pottery (94 percent of the assemblage) indicated that it was occupied in the Inca period. Architecture at Pukara Pantillijlla differed from Cheqoq, in part because of the site’s more continuous occupation from the LIP (Figure 3). Pre-Inca constructions included small above-ground mortuary structures and domestic terraces. Local households that continued to be occupied into the Inca period consisted of single-room semi-circular structures (<50 m2) of fieldstone and mud mortar. Their interiors were mud-plastered and had small, rectangular niches and windows that contrast with trapezoidal Inca forms. There is no clear status distinction between houses in terms of size or construction materials, and Covey’s excavations found that status goods were either uniformly rare or evenly distributed across households. Houses were not grouped into larger patio groups, although some buildings had smaller structures adjacent to them that might represent household-level food storage. Figure 3 Architecture at Pukara Pantillijlla. Map by R. Alan Covey. 118 Around 1300 CE, several important changes occurred that were associated with an increased prevalence of Inca canons at Pukara Pantillijlla (Covey 2006). Central parts of the site were leveled and expanded for new domestic terraces, while some of the larger houses in the upper part of the ridge were abandoned. The site size increased to approximately ten hectares, almost double the size of the largest early LIP settlement in the Chongo Basin. As the site grew, residential and public architectural forms appeared that bore a resemblance to Inca types (Figure 4). These include rectangular, square, and rounded-corner square structures, as well as some elongated structures (Covey 2006). The artifact assemblages within these buildings support their identification as both ritual/public buildings and residential spaces. One unexcavated compound (R-10-13) comprised two small structures and two larger structures roughly the size of the semi-circular house structures. One of the larger structures had a trapezoidal doorway–diagnostic of Inca architecture–and the other had a wide doorway (1.6 m) along with interior Inca-style niches. The coordinated layout of the unit in an “L” shape on a single domestic terrace may represent an approximation of the Inca kancha enclosure, which typically is laid out around a patio. Non-domestic rectangular structures at Pukara Pantillijlla included one non-Inca public building (R-5) and one Inca ritual structure (R-15) (Covey 2006). R-5 is a large square structure (~7.5 x 7.5 m in its interior) with meter-thick walls and a single, wide doorway opening onto a small plaza. It has four windows, 14 rectangular interior niches, and a paved interior floor. R-15 is an elongated rectangular structure (10 by 4 m) made of fieldstones and mud mortar, with a rear wall built into the bedrock of a natural outcrop. Its interior has at least three niches and three windows. Although R-15 possesses some elements of the Inca architectural canon, it is smaller, less solidly built, and less centrally located than R-5, which does not conform to the Inca style. The architectural evidence from Cheqoq and Pukara Pantillijlla offers some important contrasts. Pukara Pantillijlla’s experience with Inca power occurred early on, and reflects a very limited representation of Inca architectural canons. Inca cut-stone masonry was not used during the expansion of occupation at Pukara Pantillijlla, and the proliferation of rectilinear forms does not indicate the faithful replication of Inca building types or the coordination of domestic compounds. Although this site has been interpreted as an early Inca administrative center (Covey 2006), it is not clear that the construction of rectilinear architecture was directed by the Inca state or carried out at the behest of people from Cusco. By contrast, Cheqoq, which expanded during a later and more direct relationship with Inca state elites, Kylie E. Quave / R. Alan Covey The Material Remains of Inca Power among Imperial Heartland Communities Plan of R-3, non-Inca semicircular domestic structure R-5, non-Inca public structure Figure 4 Types of architecture at Pukara Pantillijlla. Images by R. Alan Covey. Excavations in R-15, Inca-style ritual structure 119 120 shows widespread use of Inca masonry, multiple structures that show high fidelity to Inca building types, and patterns of residential and storage compound layouts that are identifiably Inca. The imprimatur of the Inca style pervades all parts of the site, including economic activity areas, though there are non-Inca features as well. Inca Polychrome Pottery Compared with LIP styles from the Cusco Region, Inca ceramics are more standardized in form, decoration, paste, and temper. Inca polychrome pottery features geometric designs in mostly buff, red, black, and white, with a common suite of vessel forms found across the Cusco Region (Pardo 1939; Rowe 1944). In provincial contexts, researchers often infer Inca dominance from the presence of Cusco-Inca pottery, whereas hybrid, “local,” or “provincial” forms of the Cusco-Inca types are considered to represent a lower degree of Inca control and influence. Our excavations encountered significant variations in the proportion of decorated Inca pottery within and between sites. Some of these differences can be attributed to the relative degree of Inca influence in a given household or site, but it is important to observe that occupational histories of these sites and the nature of the Inca transition also affect the constitution of the decorated ceramic assemblage. At Pukara Pantillijlla, just 18 percent of all decorated sherds in domestic contexts were Inca polychromes. At Ak’awillay, 23.6 percent were Inca polychrome, and at Cheqoq, a much greater portion of 80 percent were Inca polychrome when accounting for all decorated sherds (Quave 2012) (Figure 5). Within sites, there was also great variation. The proportion of Inca pottery in the three excavated houses at Pukara Pantillijlla ranged from 9.3 percent to 34.1 percent Inca, which might represent modest differences in status or building use, subtle differences in the occupation chronologies of houses, or a combination of these. There are lower rates of Inca pottery in houses near the promontory and mortuary area at Pukara Pantillijlla, and higher rates near the compound of rectangular buildings discussed above. At Cheqoq, the percentages of Inca decorated pottery ranged from 56.6 percent (Area G) to 93.5 percent (Area N). Households with the highest percentages also yielded greater frequencies of decorated serving vessels and exotic and high-status food items (Quave 2012). The proportion of Inca polychromes in the decorated sherds 121 Figure 5 Examples of Cusco-Inca pottery excavated at Cheqoq. Images by Kylie Quave. 122 from the Ak’awillay test excavations ranged from 12.3 percent (TR-11) to 33.8 percent (TR-10). In non-domestic contexts at Cheqoq and Pukara Pantillijlla, we found similar frequencies of Inca to other decorated wares. The storage structure at Cheqoq yielded 36.8 percent Inca polychromes (Quave 2012). At Pukara Pantillijlla, a presumed ritual structure (R-15) had 16.4 percent Inca decorated sherds, but R-5 and R-6, the non-Inca public building and its out-building, yielded 2.8 percent and 2.5 percent, respectively (Covey n.d.). Excavations at Cheqoq encountered a ceramic workshop in which Inca polychromes comprised 99.7 percent of the decorated pottery, including 622 wasters (3.6 percent of sherds) (Quave 2012). Whereas Inca-style pottery appears to have reached Pukara Pantillijlla and Ak’awillay through exchange networks, the expansion of the Inca occupation at Cheqoq was associated with the construction of a facility to produce the style. The distribution of Cusco-Inca polychrome pottery suggests that there was heterogeneity in both the imposition of Inca power, as well as the local adoption of Inca material culture across the Cusco Region. The earlier date for the Inca occupation at Pukara Pantillijlla and the marginalization of the site during the imperial period both contribute to the low percentage of decorated Inca pottery at the site. By comparison, the preliminary data from Ak’awillay seem to indicate a site with a similar occupation profile that had better access to imperial wares, or a population more inclined to acquire and use Inca material. Cheqoq offers a significant contrast, in terms of the abrupt imposition of the Inca occupation, the ubiquity of the Inca style across the site, and the establishment of facilities to produce elements of Inca canons locally. Documentary sources associate Cheqoq with non-local populations brought by Inca royals to staff their country estates, whereas the people of Ak’awillay and Pukara Pantillijlla are thought to be locals with different degrees of participation in Inca ethnic and political identities (Covey 2014b, 2014c). Our excavation data suggest uneven distribution of the canonical Inca ceramics, with limited local adoption of Inca production techniques, vessel forms, and iconography. There are some limitations in the use of imperial ceramic frequencies to assess imperial power, however, as site occupation chronology and the nature of the local Inca transition can confound the archaeological record of Inca influence. This limitation provides further impetus for decoupling studies of Inca power from purely materialist analyses of architectural and artifact style and frequency. More intensive studies of LIP and Inca ceramics Kylie E. Quave / R. Alan Covey The Material Remains of Inca Power among Imperial Heartland Communities 123 are needed to reconstruct patterns of production and distribution fully, but the evidence does allow us to reject a vision of the Inca imperial heartland as a region where all populations used imperial ceramics in their daily life. Inca Power and Local Communities Our focus on regional and site-level manifestations of Inca canons reveals some important differences in the distribution of fixed and portable material culture. The archaeological record is shaped by the expression of power and status on the part of individuals and households with disparate agendas, including state officials, producers of craft goods, and rural consumers of different statuses. By correlating regional distributions of Inca pottery and architecture with multiple local assemblages, we are able to bridge the efforts of the Inca elite to exert power over rural subjects and the evidence for continuity and change in local communities and households. Having noted some of the distributional differences between the architecture and ceramics, we recommend that future studies of Inca state power develop a broader range of markers of Inca influence. Ak’awillay, for example, has a similar ceramic assemblage to Pukara Pantillijlla, with a lower frequency of Inca polychromes, but our test excavations yielded greater evidence of wealth goods such as worked shell and gold adornments. Moving beyond architecture and pottery may subsequently require taking account of non-ceramic personal wealth items, as well as production of Inca-style goods such as pottery and cloth. The sites analyzed here present us with unexpected patterns compared to what was predicted for these culturally and geographically near and distant communities. We anticipated that Ak’awillay would serve as a baseline for how much Inca material culture should be present in a community allied with Cusco. However, Ak’awillay’s ceramic patterns are more similar to Pukara Pantillijlla than to nearby Cheqoq, which should yield greater frequencies of Inca material culture due to its proximity to Cusco and its important role in the royal estate economy. More specifically, both Ak’awillay and Pukara Pantillijlla present lower frequencies of Inca goods than the royal estate installation of Cheqoq. At Pukara Pantillijlla, Inca expansion encountered communities with distinct subsistence and social practices. Settlement at Pukara Pantillijlla expanded during the Inca 124 incorporation of the area, and the site remained occupied even as the local administrative focus shifted to the valley-bottom royal estate at Pisaq. The growth of the site included construction of a small Inca-style temple and an administrative compound, although the amount of Inca material culture in households only increased slightly over time. The evidence suggests only modest changes to social life as the Inca state grew. The construction of state architecture does not, in this case, accompany the exertion of state power in other visible ways, which challenges some of the assumptions we tend to make about Inca monumental architecture in the provinces and heartland. Notably, the situation at Pukara Pantillijlla contrasts with nearby Pisaq. At that royal palace complex, Inca state power was clearly visible and employed the Inca canon, including ritual compounds, baths, very large terraces, a canalized valley bottom, storehouses, fine ashlars, and prominent finely carved doorways along walking paths (Covey 2006). Royal estate sites such as Pisaq underscore an additional problem with how archaeologists map out Inca influence through architecture; namely, the material that scholars identify as elements of the state canon in the provinces is actually based upon royal estate architecture and religious monuments in the Cusco Region. We should thus reconsider whether Inca material culture–as distributed in the heartland–is the best template for Inca provincial power. Cheqoq–an estate facility–resembles Pisaq more than Pukara Pantillijlla in many ways. There are high frequencies of Inca goods that surpass those observed at Pukara Pantillijlla and Ak’awillay. However, there are no (as yet recovered) temples or administrative buildings. Instead, Cheqoq has a highly visible group of at least two dozen large storage structures (~4.5 m in width and 35-45 m in length). Additionally, the site itself was extensive, especially for an economic installation: 8 hectares of storage, 14 hectares of domestic terracing, and a terrace devoted to Inca polychrome ceramic production. Perhaps the most visible aspect of Inca power was the emplacement of the multiethnic population of retainers there: retainers who specialized in storage administration, Inca-style pottery production, and other occupations (see Quave 2012). Overall, Inca state expansion within the Cusco Region was heterogeneous and resulted in irregular and discontinuous material patterns of state power. The material remains of Inca imperial power do not co-vary with historically-based differences in Inca influence at these three sites. We do not find greater quantities of Inca remains where the Inca had Kylie E. Quave / R. Alan Covey The Material Remains of Inca Power among Imperial Heartland Communities 125 greater cultural affinity or influence (the honorary Incas of the Xaquixaguana Valley), nor do we find greater quantities of Inca remains where the Incas enforced their authority over a population of non-Inca upland people (Pukara Pantillijlla). Instead we find that perhaps the people who would consider themselves to be the least like the Incas–forced migrants such as the Cañaris of Ecuador and the Chachapoyas (see Covey and Amado 2008, Covey and Elson 2007) who served as retainers on royal estates–might in fact be the most regular consumers of goods in the Inca canon. Overall, this analysis demonstrates that our models of continuous Inca state power will not suffice for understanding how a group of people from the Cusco Basin successfully transformed the lives of millions of subjects in the Central Andes. Instead, we must focus on high-resolution excavated assemblages to re-assess these models in the provinces and heartland to create more localized explanations for how communities interacted with a developing empire. 126 R efer en c es C i t ed U n p u b l i sh ed d o c u men t s P u b l i ca t i o n s Archivo Regional del Cusco, Urubamba, Leg. 1, 1594-95. Acuto, Félix A. (2010), Living Under the Imperial Thumb in the Northern Chalchaquí Valley, Argentina , in: Michael A. Malpass and Sonia Alconini (eds.), Distant Provinces in the Inka Empire. Toward A Deeper Understanding of Inka Imperialism, Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press, pp. 108-150. Covey, R. Alan (n.d.), A Multiscalar Investigation of Early Inka State Expansion , manuscript in possession of the author. Covey, R. Alan, Kylie E. Quave, and Catherine E. Covey (n.d.), Inca Storage Systems in the Imperial Heartland (Cuzco, Peru). Risk Management, Economic Growth, and Political Economy , in: Linda R. Manzanilla and Mitchell S. Rothman (eds.), Storage and Administration in Ancient Complex Societies, under review for publication. Bauer, Brian. S. (2004), Ancient Cuzco. Heartland of the Inca , Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Bauer, Brian S., and R. Alan Covey (2002), Processes of State Formation in the Inca Heartland (Cuzco, Peru) , in: American Anthropologist 104(3), pp. 846-864. Covey, R. Alan (2006), How the Incas Built their Heartland. State Formation and the Innovation of Imperial Strategies in the Sacred Valley, Peru , Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press. (2009), Domestic Life and Craft Specialization in Inka Cusco and Its Rural Hinterland , in: Linda R. Manzanilla and Claude Chapdelaine (eds.), Domestic Life in Prehispanic Capitals. A Study of Specialization, Hierarchy, and Ethnicity, Ann Arbor, MI: Museum of Anthropology, University of Michigan, pp. 243-254. (2014a), Late Intermediate Period Archaeology and Inca Rivals on the Xaquixaguana Plain, in: R. 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Its Organisms, Mechanisms, and Results , in: Archives Européennes de Sociologie 25, pp. 185-213. Meyers, Albert (2007) Towards a Reconceptualization of the Late Horizon and the Inka Period, in: Richard L. Burger, Craig Morris, Ramiro Matos Mendieta, Joanne Pillsbury, and Jeffrey Quilter (eds.), Variations in the Expression of Inka Power, Washington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection, pp. 223-254. Farrington, Ian S. and Julinho Zapata (2003), Nuevos cánones de arquitectura inka. Investigaciones en el sitio de TambokanchaTumibamba, Jaquijahuana, Cuzco , in: Boletín de Arqueología PUCP 7, pp. 57-77. Niles, Susan A. (1999), The Shape of Inca History. Narrative and Architecture in an Andean Empire , Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press. Gasparini, Graziano and Luise Margolies (1980), Inca Architecture , Patricia J. Lyon (trans.), Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Pardo, Luis A. 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Standen (2010) An Archaeological Perspective on the Inka Provincial Administration of the South-Central Andes , in: Michael A. Malpass and Sonia Alconini (eds.), Distant Provinces in the Inka Empire. Toward a Deeper Understanding of Inka Imperialism, Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press, pp. 44-74. Toledo, Francisco de ([1571] 1940), Información hecha por orden del Virrey Don Francisco de Toledo, Yucay, marzo 19-julio 2 de 1571 , in: Don Francisco de Toledo, supremo organizador del Perú. Su vida, su obra (1515-1582), Roberto Levillier (ed.), vol. 2, Sus informaciones sobre los incas (1570-1572), Buenos Aires: EspasaCalpe, pp. 99-121. 128 C É S A R W. A S T U H UA M Á N G O N Z Á L E S T H E I N C A TA K E O V E R O F T H E A N C I E N T C E N T E R S IN THE HIGHLANDS OF PIURA César W. Astuhuamán Gonzáles T h e I n c a Ta k e o v e r o f t h e A n c i e n t C e n t e r s in the Highlands of Piura 129 Ancient empires and pre-capitalist societies have considered their landscape to be much more than an economic resource and, in many societies, portions of landscape are believed to be sacred. Landscape can be considered a cultural and social construction; it is a perceived and symbolized space (Gil 2001, pp. 63, 66-67). The nature of sacred landscapes (e.g. mountains), involves religious and symbolic meaning expressed in ritual and cultic practices around natural features of the landscape that assumed a sacred character for peoples in the past (Bradley 2002). Cult is defined as “A particular form or system of religious worship or veneration, especially as expressed in ceremony or ritual directed towards a specified figure or object” (Oxford English Dictionary, on-line version, s.v.). Andean peoples developed concepts of sacred landscapes where ancestor cults and rituals were conducted and controlled by indigenous empires. Various authors discuss religious sites called huacas, frequently linked to ancestor cults, which are also exemplified by natural features of the landscape such as lakes, mountains, rock formations, springs, caves, ancient buildings, and monoliths (e.g. Bauer 2004; Gose 1993; Hyslop 1990). In relation to the Inca empire, ethnohistorical and archaeological research has given some consideration to the role of religion, ideology, and state institutions during the period of expansion (Conrad and Demarest 1988; Conrad and Demarest [eds.] 1992; Gose 1993; Patterson 1985; Rostworowski 1983; Topic et al. 2002; Ziólkowski 1999). Ancestor cults and rituals were associated with the control of water sources, and they defined the entire political culture upon which the Inca State emerged and controlled Tawantinsuyu (Gose 1993, pp. 486-488). In this article, I will consider the proposition that the socio-political order in Andean societies may have been partly developed around sacred landscapes, in particular networks of shrines. I will explore the relationships between indigenous Andean ideologies of sacred landscapes and the Inca imperial rule, and assess the significance of landscape features that assumed a sacred character before the Inca conquest, and were further elaborated as a feature of Inca rule. Thus, I will assess the following hypothesis: Indigenous rituals and cults may have involved ancient local centers that may have assumed a sacred character before the Inca conquest of the Highlands of Piura. During Inca times these places were probably chosen as the sites of major centers, and incorporated within subsequent Inca state religion and ritual, as a 130 César W. Astuhuamán Gonzáles Figure 1 Study area. The red rectangle encloses the Highlands of Piura, © César Astuhuamán. T h e I n c a Ta k e o v e r o f t h e A n c i e n t C e n t e r s in the Highlands of Piura 131 major feature of the Inca rule of the provinces. Inca state ceremonies and rituals were also performed in the newly constructed state buildings at Inca centers. This research is primarily focused on the Highlands of Piura, close to the modern border of Peru and Ecuador. The land lies between 800 and 3990 meters above sea level, and is formed by the two longitudinal ridges of the Cordillera de los Andes which defines the high portions of the Quiroz, Alto Piura, Huancabamba, and Alto Chinchipe River Basins (Hocquenghem 1989, p. 11). It is a multi-frontier region, in both political and ecological terms, located between the central and northern Andes, and flanked by the Amazonian rain forest and the large coastal plain. It is a transitional zone between the puna and paramo eco-regions. Figure 2 Location of Aypate, © Ministerio de Cultura, Proyecto Qhapaq Ñan. Site name Suggested function Lomo del Huacho La Huaca* Aypate Caxas Mitupampa Ovejería El Gentil Lagunas Lanche Piura La Vieja San Isidro Tambo Florecer Las Pircas La Laguna de Mijal Tambo de Jicate 1 Tambo de Jicate 2 Huancacarpa El Tambo Socchabamba Yanta Cima del Cerro Lingan* Cerro San Isidro Cerro San Miguel Yantuma Cerro Culuguero Huancabamba Residential Cult Ceremonial-administrative Ceremonial-administrative Ceremonial-administrative Storage-administrative Residential Residential Ceremonial-administrative Ceremonial-administrative Storage-administrative Storage-administrative Storage-administrative Storage-administrative Residential Residential Military-storage Residential Storage-administrative Residential Cult Production Residential Residential Cult Ceremonial-administrative LATE HORIZON (ca. 1400 - 1532 AD) Cerro de Lagunas Cerro Pan de Azucar Cerro Casitas Gentiles de Portachuelo Cerro Granadillo Cerro Chichacomo-Cima Cerro Santa Rosa Residential Residential Ceremonial-administrative Residential Ceremonial-administrative Cult Cult LATE INTERMEDIATE PERIOD (ca. 1000 - 1400 AD) Pueblo Viejo Fortaleza Cerro Yambur Ceremonial-administrative Ceremonial-administrative Cult MIDDLE HORIZON (600 - 1000 AD) Cerro Chala 2* Cerro Chala 3* Cerro Portachuelo de Culucan Loma de los Barriales Cerro Palo Parado Cerro Vizcacha Cerron Balcón Cerro Golondrina Cult Cult Cult Cult Cult Cult Cult Cult Table 1. Suggested functions and chronology of settlements in the Highlands of Piura INITIAL PERIOD (1800 - 800 BC) * Inca pottery is associated with site. César W. Astuhuamán Gonzáles T h e I n c a Ta k e o v e r o f t h e A n c i e n t C e n t e r s in the Highlands of Piura 133 During the 20th century, research was conducted in the Highlands of Piura by Julio C. Tello (1916a, 1916b), Mario Polia (1972, 1973) and myself (Astuhuamán 1998). Generally, reconnaissance was done following ancient routes and at major Inca centers. During the early 21st century, I continued archaeological research there (Astuhuamán 2008a, 2009), recently at the site of Aypate, as part of the Qhapaq Ñan Project of Peru’s Ministry of Culture (Figure 2). This paper reports the results of the Aypate Integral Project (2012-2014). Inca sites recorded within the Highlands of Piura to evaluate the cultic hypothesis, I elaborated a typology of settlements for the study area, based on the form and possible function of buildings within them, discerning levels of hierarchy among settlements of the same period (see Table 1). From an archaeological point of view, the four largest Inca sites identified in the study area as ceremonial-administrative centers (Aypate, Caxas, Huancabamba, and Mitupampa) are characterized by a wide range of Inca building types (e.g. platformushnu, kallanka [great hall], plaza, acllawasi [house of chosen women], temple of the Sun). These sites were probably the centers of Inca jurisdictions because the presence of several Inca buildings is evidence of the architecture of power, a feature of the major Inca imperial centers (Gasparini and Margolies 1977). Table 2 shows the presence of these buildings at the major Inca centers of the study area. Table 2 demonstrates the recurrent presence of several Inca building forms which were common to the Inca centers of the study area. I have identified these as having the following functions: acllawasi, temple of the Sun, plaza (trapezoidal or rectangular), and platform-ushnu. These four building forms appear to be the key structures that identify and differentiate Inca provincial centers from other sites. However, there are other, minor Inca sites, which were different from these major Inca centers and which may have had different functions at the provincial level (e.g. Tambo de Jicate, Huancacarpa). In addition to Inca sites, several pre-Inca sites were also recorded along the Inca road or near to it. I will focus on these because they were ancient centers: The site of Cerro Chala consists of three sectors built on three hilltops. They share similar architectural patterns (Polia 1995, pp. 240-241). In the lowest sector, a long and irregular rectangular structure was found, as well as alignments of rocks going in east-west and 134 Suggested building function Bridge Gateway control Storage Cultic/temple Cultic/monolithic Ceremonial fountain Acllawasi Kallanka Rectangular plaza Residential Residential/administrative Ceremonial/administrative Palace Another acllawasi Temple of the Sun Trapezoidal plaza Platform-ushnu Access control Metal workshop Agricultural terrace Drying structure (tendal) Funerary (chullpas) Unclear Aypate sectors Caxas sectors 1 2 1 12 Mitupampa Huancabamba sectors sectors 2 5, 6 16 14 3 17 5 6 7 4, 13, 14, 15, 22, 30, 35, 36 9 10 11 16 19 20 21 32 33 27 8, 27, 28, 30, 31, 35 17-37 18, 23, 24, 25, 26, 29, 34, 37 15 13 8 4 9 3 2 7 11 10, 12 10 3 9 9 1, 2, 4 5 5 8 7 2, 3 1, 2, 3, 5 4 6, 11 north-south directions, and a great plaza with a central axis running from the northwest to the southeast. Stairs were built to access the next sector, and another square, flanked by rock alignments, was recorded. Another low wall surrounded the hilltop of this sector. Twenty-four pottery sherds were collected there and provide evidence of Inca presence. These architectural features, and the proximity of the Inca road running between Tondopa Bridge and Aypate, suggest that this site was used during Inca times (Astuhuamán 2008a). Table 2. Functions of Inca buildings at the major Inca centers within the Highlands of Piura. Historic sources have been used for buildings now under modern Huancabamba. These are: Cieza de León ([1551] 1973), p. 154; Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1967), pp. 84-87; Humboldt ([1802] 1991), pp. 20-14; Tello (1916a, 1916b); Xerez ([1534] 1968), p. 212. César W. Astuhuamán Gonzáles T h e I n c a Ta k e o v e r o f t h e A n c i e n t C e n t e r s in the Highlands of Piura 135 Cerro Portachuelo de Culucán is a site located in a pass, close to the Inca road between Tondopa Bridge and Aypate, on a flat area part way up the hill slope. It has a clear view of the surrounding area, particularly towards the Aypate hilltop. Monumental architecture has been recorded there (Astuhuamán 2008a; Polia 1995, pp. 241-246). It is shaped by two stepped platforms (one larger and the other smaller) surrounding a sunken ovoid yard, and oriented from west to east. The axis of the largest platform is orientated to the Cerro Aypate hilltop, to the east. Loma de los Barriales is shaped by two stepped platforms (one larger and the other smaller) facing a central yard. Both were built on stepped terraces. Loma de los Barriales shares architectural features with Cerro Portachuelo de Culucan and Cerro Chala. All these sites are near an ancient road that later became the Inca road. I suggest that these sites, with similar monumental architecture, were the loci of early local cults. Between Loma de los Barriales and Cerro Vizcacha no further early hill top cult sites were recorded along the Inca road that links Tondopa Bridge and Aypate. Cerro Vizcacha, located on a hilltop, is shaped by four superimposed stepped platforms linked by ramps. Atop the superimposed platforms two platforms face a central yard. The axis of the stepped platforms and ramps is north 15º west. At the east side of the building, stairs allow access from the associated yard to the largest stepped platform. An ancient road linked the yard and Aypate. It is the modern boundary between two farming communities, Olleros and Cujaca. On the same mountain as the site Cerro Vizcacha, but located on the top, is Aypate (Figure 3). Aypate’s hilltop has been artificially modified. The hilltop is stepped, and on the ground the remains of a platform were recorded. This modification allows a complete panoramic view and observations along long distances. Towards the North of Aypate, and near the Inca road, is the site of Cerro Balcón. It consists of four stepped platforms built on the hilltop and linked by ramps. The highest sector is a long and flat platform. The axis of the stepped platforms and ramps is north 22º west. Along the same mountain, but located at the bottom, Cerro Golondrina, a small early site, was recorded. Here, a hilltop was also artificially modified. These early settlements with similar architectural features (e.g. terraced hilltops and monumental architecture) are evidence of the emergence of Andean civilization in the Highlands of Piura and the early interaction between societies during the Initial Period 136 Figure 3 Inca buildings at Aypate, © César Astuhuamán and Cristian Campos. (1800–800 BC) in Northern Peru. These are close to the Inca road and may have been considered to have been huacas or sacred places by late indigenous and Inca populations, like huacas that have been recorded at other sites including the Islands of the Moon and the Sun at Lake Titicaca (cf. Bauer and Stanish 2003), Pachacamac (Cornejo 2000), Chavín de Huantar (Lumbreras 1989), Raqchi (Sillar and Dean 2002), Catequil (Topic 2008), and the Pumapunku pyramid at Tiwanaku (Yaeger and Lopez 2004). I recorded pre-Inca settlements that could be related to the late indigenous population. I will describe briefly and discuss two cases. The first is Cerro Casitas, in the present-day Yamango District (Morropón) on the border between the Quiroz and Piura River Basins. César W. Astuhuamán Gonzáles T h e I n c a Ta k e o v e r o f t h e A n c i e n t C e n t e r s in the Highlands of Piura 137 It consists of approximately 100 small rectangular structures (each about 17 by 8 meters in length and width) below and around the top of Cerro Casitas. They are distributed along 800 meters with many lateral parts spread on terraces. The main sector is on the hilltop, and other sectors are located below it and accord with topographic features. The architectural pattern is the following: a stone wall enclosure of rectangular shape with a central division and a yard in front, with many similar structures distributed in a row. From some sherds of Chimu pottery recorded, Cerro Casitas can be assigned to the Late Intermediate Period. It was the main pre-Inca site recorded at the southern portion of the Quiroz River Basin. The Inca road is below Cerro Casitas towards Confesionarios, a present day town. The second case is the late occupation of Cerro Balcón, located below the early occupation of Cerro Balcón. It was the main pre-Inca site recorded in the northern portion of the Quiroz River Basin. Cerro Balcón shares the same architectural features as Cerro Casitas. However, late structures were not recorded on its hilltop. These two cases show that the late local population of Cerro Balcón continued to occupy an early site, and that the late local population of Cerro Casitas did not choose the site of an early occupation to build its main settlement. Ethnohistoric and Ethnographical Sources about Ritual Sites in the Landscape The Anonymous Jesuit, in his Instrucción, discusses religious organization in Tawantinsuyu and the hierarchy of the Inca State cult. One of the ten Inca priests that had jurisdiction over a number of provinces of Tawantinsuyu was installed in Ayahuaca province (Anonymous Jesuit [1600] 1992, p. 70) rather than at Huancabamba or Caxas. In the Instrucción para descubrir las todas las huacas del Peru . . ., Cristóbal de Albornoz recorded several names of ancient prehispanic shrines in the Central Andes. For the Cajamarca province, close to the Highlands of Piura, he wrote: “Yanay guanca, guaca prencipal de los indios caxamalcas. Es una piedra en un cerro grande questá junto al pueblo de Quinua. Apoparato, guaca de los indios caxamalcas del ayllo Caxas, es un bolcán que está cerca al pueblo de Caxas” (Albornoz [1585] 1989, p. 186). 138 I suggest that Yanay guanca or Yana wanka was a major shrine in the Huancabamba region, because ethnographic research conducted in 1916 recorded legends relating to a feared and powerful deity located in Yana wanka (Tello 1916a, p. 16). The hill is currently called Cerro Lavatorio and is at the watershed between Huancabamba and Piura River Basins. After Yanay guanca, the next shrine in the Albornoz’s list is Apoparato. A hill named Paraton is located in the Huancabamba Region along the Inca road towards Huarmaca. There, Samuel Scott visited a prehispanic silver mine in 1890 (Scott 1902, p. 185). The relationship between Andean deities and mines has been highlighted, in particular in the case of the silver mine of Porco and its huaca (Platt et al. 2006, pp. 136-181). Apu or Apo was an exalted title “. . . that applied to apical ancestors who linked together many such localized lines of descendent across a region. . .” (Gose 2006, p. 33). I suggest that Paraton was the Apoparato cited in Albornoz’s Relacion or was one related to that. Concerning this point, it is relevant to assess the distribution of place names related to Apo Parato along the Central Andes. During the campaign against Andean idolatries, a woman named Juana Icha in the Highlands of Junín (Yauli) was accused of having pacts with Apo Parato. He was a mountain divinity that Juana worshipped and fed. A description of his silver idol was provided during an idolatry case at Old Canta in 1650 (Silverblatt 1987, p. 33). Another Cerro Paraton is located near northern Querocotillo in the Cajamarca Region (Perú, INC [1983], p. 13-f). Thus, I suggest that Apo Parato was an ancestor worshipped originally in the Highlands of Lima and that his cult was extended towards the north of Peru and was recorded in Albornoz’s Instrucción and also in the names of hilltops (Paraton) found on maps (Gonzáles and Astuhuamán 2012). The case of Apo Paraton is similar to that of Pariacaca. The Huarochiri Manuscript, written in the early 17th century in the Highlands of Lima (Sierra de Lima), presents the history of Pariacaca. He was worshipped by the people of the Sierra de Lima and beyond: “Nuestro padre Pariacaca, en todos los confines del Chinchaysuyo tiene hombres a su disposición. . .” (Taylor 1987, p. 279). Some evidence of the expansion of the Pariacaca cult towards northern Peru is provided by place names, as well as by ethnohistorical sources. For example, I recorded Pariacaca lands in the Huándaro Annex, Sumbilca District, Huaral Province in the Lima Region. In the Huánuco Region, a village named Pariagaga (Dos de Mayo Province, Jesús District) was recorded by Germán Stiglich (1922, p. 789). In the Ancash Region, Pariacaca and Pariagaga were recorded at four districts. César W. Astuhuamán Gonzáles T h e I n c a Ta k e o v e r o f t h e A n c i e n t C e n t e r s in the Highlands of Piura 139 I suggest that the places recorded above were related to the Pariacaca deity. Andean communities in northern Peru probably sent maize, coca, and ritual offerings to the shrine of Pariacaca in the Highlands of Lima (Taylor 2001, p. 89). In 1656, during a case of idolatry at Ancash, one Domingo Nuna Chaupis told a Spanish priest about an ancestor cult related to Pariacaca (Duviols 1986, p. 12). One of the findings that attracted the attention of Tello in 1916 in Huancabamba was a hill called Pariacaca. Tello wrote “El cerro rojo de Wankabamba se llama Paria-Kaka” (Tello 1916b, p. 1). In the Huancabamba Region, another priest, Miguel Ramírez, registered a conflict between deities located on two mountains named Pariacaca and Guitiligun (Ramírez 1966, pp. 31-34). According to myth, the red hill of Pariacaca was linked to heat and fire. He was identified as a foreigner and as a supporter of the Inca. Guitiligun was linked to cold and the color white and he was an ally of the Spanish conquerors (Camino 1992, pp. 104110). According to ethnohistoric and ethnographic sources, Pariacaca was a major huaca worshiped in Huancabamba (Ramírez 1966, pp. 21). The Llacuaz ethnic group established in Huarmaca (south of the Huancabamba Region), probably before Inca times, also worshiped Pariacaca (Espinoza Soriano 2006, p. 59). From the evidence presented above, I suggest that the Inca promoted the cult of Pariacaca and other deities in Chinchaysuyo (e.g. Paraton) to support the Inca annexation through mitimaes [colonists], encouraging local people that inhabited the Highlands of Piura to worship the allied huacas of the Inca state (cf. Astuhuamán 2008b). I further suggest that this recurrence of place names could be the remains of a religious archipelago of Andean shrines or sacred places at mountains and lands under Inca rule that were linked to ancestor cults. This, in turn, suggests a scattered distribution of ritual sites along the Andean landscape shaping a network of sacred places. Testing the Cultic Hypothesis A common feature of the main Inca centers in the highlands of Piura within my survey area is that each of them is located close to a dominant hilltop. Aypate is one such site, and it was also terraced with some buildings on the terraces. Caxas is in a valley, but is surrounded by mountains and Huancabamba is also in a valley between two mountains 140 Figure 4 Inca buildings at Caxas, © César Astuhuamán and Cristian Campos. Figure 5 Inca buildings at Mitupampa, © César Astuhuamán and Cristian Campos. César W. Astuhuamán Gonzáles T h e I n c a Ta k e o v e r o f t h e A n c i e n t C e n t e r s in the Highlands of Piura 141 named Pariacaca and Witilingun. Mitupampa faces Cerro Negro. Several Inca burials were recorded in Pariacaca and Cerro Negro (Polia et al. 1993; Tello 1916b). In Mitupampa, funerary towers (chullpas) facing Mt. Paraton were recorded (Astuhuamán 2008b; Polia et al. 1993). Polia recorded pre-Inca cemeteries in Olleros around Mt. Aypate, with some of the burials facing its hilltop (Polia 1995, p. 291). In the area around Aypate, the cultic hypothesis could be used to explain the recorded evidence of hilltop shrines with stepped terraces. Around Caxas, the archaeological record suggests an emphasis on economic (storage and agricultural terraces) and military activities, as well cultic ones. Caxas and its ancillary sites show a much greater degree of investment and control, suggesting a more direct incorporation into the Inca empire. The different types of remains could be a result of the different strategies used by the Incas in different portions of the same region during successive stages of occupation. The reporting of an important Inca priest at Ayahuaca, raises the question: why did the Inca put him in Ayahuaca? Possibly they did this because there was an important ceremonial center at Ayahuaca before Inca rule and the Inca tried to gain control of this ceremonial center and the region by replacing the local hierarchy with a new ritual center and an Inca priest. Another question that has arisen from this research is: what was the religious hierarchical order in Caxas? Similarities and differences in the form and size of Inca buildings at provincial centers could help to explain the different strategies of control exercised in the provinces under Inca rule in the Quiroz Basin. When comparing the probable Temple of the Sun in Caxas, a large stepped platform, with another stepped platform at Aypate, the Caxas platform is larger than the Aypate platform. Another stepped platform is the Inca ushnu; some variants observed at the ushnus of Aypate and Caxas are as follows: the small lateral stairs (Aypate), the proximity to Rey Inca River (Caxas), a greater size at Aypate than at Caxas. Thus, the Temple of the Sun at Caxas has greater dimensions than that of Aypate, although the pyramidal terrace (ushnu) of Aypate is greater and more complex than that of Caxas. On the basis of the hierarchy of site sizes and typology of buildings, it was suggested that Caxas was the most extensive site in the Quiroz Basin, covering an area close to 240 hectares, and having the greatest range of buildings. Caxas is also located strategically at a sacred place (a carved stone called El Baño del Inca) and faces a concentric, stepped set of platforms around a hill (Cerro Rosca) related to pre-Inca times. An Inca group installed there may have conducted diplomatic and ceremonial activities to gain local support. 142 The cultic hypothesis was largely identified on the basis of surviving material evidence in Caxas Province. However ethnohistorical sources are largely silent in relation to this aspect of Inca life. Pre-Inca ritual places along ancient routes were incorporated within the Inca state cult as a major feature of the Inca rule of Caxas. Inca state ceremonies and rituals were also performed in the state buildings of Caxas to reproduce and extend the state cult and religious ideology among subjects. Discussion All the main Inca centers (and elite Inca burials) in the study area are next to local pre-Inca cult sites and sacred hills. This provides one explanation as to why the Inca state centers are not necessarily located evenly over the landscape. I suggest that this symbolic occupation of local cultic places by the Inca was used to expand and control their dominions; for this reason the extensive cult of mountain deities was important. Such local cults were respected by the Inca, who promoted and took advantage of them to consolidate their dominion of the Piura Region through the construction of ceremonial architecture in relation to some locally prominent modified hilltops. In my opinion, architectural evidence on hilltops reflects a long tradition of cultic worship rendered to the gods of the mountains, beginning 3000 years before Incas’ arrival. The Inca centers in the Highlands of Piura have more similarities than differences. In particular, these similarities include the location of the main Inca centers close to local cult sites, and the functions of state buildings. There are insufficient formal differences between these sites to suggest that they were individually or uniquely created in relation to local circumstances. They were centers where standard Inca architectural canons were applied. However, the extant, pre-Inca local features conditioned the location of the Inca centers. One reason for this could be that the control of local cults, and the imposition of Inca cults, was the underlying strategy for the Inca state’s political and economic control of the indigenous population here. It is probable that the main Inca settlements with state buildings were used as provincial centers and/or as ceremonial centers during different periods of the historical process of Inca conquest and provincial consolidation. A consideration of stages within the his- César W. Astuhuamán Gonzáles T h e I n c a Ta k e o v e r o f t h e A n c i e n t C e n t e r s in the Highlands of Piura 143 torical process of the annexation of the Highlands of Piura into the Inca empire and the gradual installation of Inca centers and infrastructure could help to explain the record of four major Inca centers and the provincial organization of the region. In addition, some features suggest that Mitupampa may predate Caxas and Aypate, although, at present, it is not possible to provide precise dating or correlation between the phases at the sites. To deal with the chronological problem, I propose two stages for the Inca provincial organization in the study area: early (Topa Inca’s conquest) and late (Huayna Qhapaq’s consolidation). Mitupampa, the smallest center built in the study area to include a full range of Inca buildings (e.g. platform-ushnu, kallanka, plaza) may have been the first Inca provincial center Figure 6 Two carved stone felines recorded under the late ushnu-platform of Mitupampa, © César Astuhuamán. 144 built in the Highlands of Piura. This can be suggested because its southern location is likely to have been annexed early. In addition, some features of the Inca buildings suggest that Mitupampa pre-dates Caxas and Aypate. Further evidence for the early Inca presence at Mitupampa is the occupation sequence of the ushnu; I suggest that the two carved stone felines were probably made by the Incas as a foundation act at Mitupampa before they were covered by a first ushnu of one platform, followed by a subsequent modification which defines the final and late stage of the stepped ushnu of two platforms with its axis oriented to Cerro Negro. Representational carvings of felines (pumas or jaguars) and single ushnu platforms are associated with Topa Inca’s rule (Kendall 1985, pp. 272-275). Both, the presence of the felines and the sequential remodeling of the ushnu imply a long Inca occupation sequence at this site. Thus, I suggest that Mitupampa was the earliest Inca center built in the Highlands of Piura. The early Inca occupation of Mitupampa began with a ceremonial compound, where offerings to mountain gods may have been made on the platform where the carved stone felines oriented to Cerro Negro were placed. Probably in a second stage, Mitupampa became the earliest Inca center built in the Highlands of Piura with typical Inca buildings (e.g. a small kallanka and an ushnu-platform). Limited excavations in the acllawasi of Caxas revealed two phases of Inca occupation. It is likely that the early occupation of Caxas started with ceremonial and military compounds. Probably, the capture of the local ritual center at Caxas allowed the manipulation of an ethnic identifier. This appears to be a feature of provincial organization because other Inca sites along the Inca road in this zone were placed around some portions of the sacred landscape. For instance, there is a monolith (wanka) partially surrounded by a stone wall, oval in plan, at Laguna de Mijal. There is also an unaltered group of tall monoliths near Huancacarpa, and a carved stone (the Baño del Inca) at Caxas. I suggest that Caxas became a new Inca provincial center after the capture of this local cult place. Regarding Aypate, during fieldwork conducted in 2012 and 2013, an early Inca road (Ñaupa Ñan) surrounding Aypate was recorded. It is different in form from the later Inca road (Qhapaq Ñan) previously identified, being narrow, sunken, and paved. The Ñaupa Ñan is associated with orthogonal Inca compounds (kanchas). By contrast, the Qhapaq Ñan is associated with compounds of trapezoidal layout. Between the entry to Aypate and the monumental zone, the two roads run in parallel. During the restoration process conduc- César W. Astuhuamán Gonzáles T h e I n c a Ta k e o v e r o f t h e A n c i e n t C e n t e r s in the Highlands of Piura 145 ted during 1994-1998 at the acllawasi (Sector 13), two Inca stages of occupation were identified. These remains are evidence of an early Inca presence related to the conquest of Aypate. A comparative analysis of Inca centers suggests that the initial Inca control of the study area and the early organization of provinces during the rule of Topa Inca Yupanqui was through mixed military presence and cultic strategies in the Huancabamba Region (e.g. the long occupation sequence at the platform-ushnu of Mitupampa) and in the Quiroz Basin. During the first stage, Mitupampa was a provincial center and included a range of Inca buildings (e.g. one platform-ushnu, one small kallanka, and one rectangular plaza). Inca centers in the study region were primarily ritual sites during this early stage. During the Huayna Qhapaq period (ca. 1493-1525), the study area was secured and transformed, and this stable situation allowed the re-construction of three major Inca centers (e.g. Caxas, Huancabamba, and Aypate). However, this implied the diminution or demise of the jurisdiction of the earlier Inca centers (e.g. Mitupampa) and changes in its initial roles under new Inca politics and strategies; this would help to explain why there was no mention of Mitupampa in any of the Spanish colonial accounts. Some buildings at the old Inca center of Mitupampa were rebuilt (e.g. the ushnu) according to Huayna Qhapaq’s architectural canons. I suggest that Caxas and Aypate were transformed during the late stage of provincial organization under Huayna Qhapaq’s rule. Probably it was during this stage that Caxas reached its largest extension. Caxas was a provincial administrative center whereas Aypate may have been more significant as cult and ritual center. This conclusion is based on an analysis of state buildings and ethnohistorical references suggesting that the strategic position of Aypate was more closely related to pre-Inca cults. The Inca used two different strategies during the annexation and administration of the indigenous population (Guayacundos) in the Quiroz Basin. The Inca buildings with similar architectural layout and size may have been built or rebuilt during the same stage of Inca expansion, and may have had a similar level of importance or function in relation to a particular aspect of Inca provincial organization, for instance at a political and ceremonial level. The findings in the ushnu of Mitupampa suggest that there were at least two types of ushnu and three stages of Inca construction. 146 The first one was a small platform, and the second one was two larger stepped platforms which covered the first. In addition, the ushnus of Caxas and Mitupampa have similar dimensions and architectural features. The size of the temple of the Sun may, in part, depend on the importance of pre-Inca local cult centers and their role within the Inca strategies of conquest. For instance, in the case of Huancabamba, its large size suggests that the Inca completely imposed their state cult in this region. The same occurs at Caxas where the four largest stepped terraces form a very impressive temple. However, the smallest temples of the Sun were located at Aypate and Mitupampa where ancient and important ceremonial centers predated the Inca occupation. At both of these sites, the Inca built small temples during their initial conquest of the region, when the Inca state identity was negotiated in relation to local ceremonial centers, possibly as a strategy to engage with local elites. The Inca takeover of these regions occurred by placing Inca priests at pre-Inca shrines, such as was proposed for the Ayahuaca province by Anonymous Jesuit. Differences between the temples of the Sun at Aypate and Caxas may suggest that this State cult was conducted differentially in both centers. The Sun cult appears to have been more elaborate at Caxas, where a larger and more complex structure was built, than at Aypate where local cults were dominant. According to ethnohistoric sources (Cieza de León [1551] 1973, p. 154; Xerez [1534] 1968, pp. 212, 154), a large “fortress” built at Huancabamba (interpreted by me as a temple of the Sun), and the recorded material evidence in its modern church, suggest that this temple was larger than those of Caxas, Aypate, and Mitupampa. Size and architectural complexity of temples of the Sun in the Inca centers of the study area are accurate indicators of the relationships between local and Inca cults, which may have been negotiated by elites. Thus, where major local cult centers were strong and prestigious, then the Inca temples of the Sun were smaller (e.g. at Aypate and Mitupampa), and where local cult centers were subordinated, particularly at major state administrative sites, then the Inca temples of the Sun were larger (e.g. at Caxas and Huancabamba). It should be noted that this relates to the final stage of provincial organization in the region, and may reflect a change in Inca strategy with a greater emphasis on state sponsored rituals and the cult of the Sun at major administrative centers. However, the cult of the César W. Astuhuamán Gonzáles T h e I n c a Ta k e o v e r o f t h e A n c i e n t C e n t e r s in the Highlands of Piura 147 rest of the Inca pantheon was less variable in the Inca centers of the study area, where the presence of seven rooms in each one of the recorded acllawasi suggest that the cult to the Inca pantheon was conducted in these centers. This imperial sponsored cult required similar disposition of spaces (e.g. seven rooms, a yard, and a ritual fountain inside a room) to perform the cult rituals. I suggest two proposals that offer slightly different perspectives on how distinct approaches to state organization could each have resulted in similar material remains relating to this second stage of Inca occupation in the Highlands of Piura. In the first, each province had a single provincial center and the size of its administrative jurisdiction was related to the size of its center. Thus, the jurisdictions of Huancabamba, Caxas, Aypate, and Mitupampa were different in size, but the character of their jurisdictions was similar. In the second proposal, the Inca centers were part of parallel systems with juxtaposed, but separate administrative and religious jurisdictions. Thus, while Huancabamba and Caxas were more focused on economic and social administrative aspects, Aypate and Mitupampa were related to religious aspects and were primarily ritual sites, although they may have maintained some administrative aspects common to each Inca center. At present, the archaeological record for the region does not allow me to resolve which of these two interpretations is most viable. However, following the models of Pachacamac and the Isla del Sol, I suggest that a better understanding of the relationship between Inca religious institutions (based at acllawasi, temples of the Sun, and ushnus) and pre-Inca cults is key to identifying where Inca religious (as opposed to administrative) centers were constructed. Within the Quiroz Basin, Aypate may have been primarily a major ritual site and secondarily an administrative center and Caxas may have been primarily an administrative center and secondarily a cult center. Similarly, in the Huancabamba River Basin, Huancabamba could have been primarily an administrative center with Mitupampa primarily a cult center or lower order administrative center. All major Inca centers were part of the Inca religious and administrative systems with juxtaposed jurisdictions. 148 Conclusion: Sacred Landscapes and Imperial Strategies The ideological role of the Inca infrastructure has been highlighted in previous research. It transmitted the Inca concepts of society and cosmos to local lords and their subjects. Religious ideology had a key role in the way Inca provinces were organized and where main centers were placed and built. The choice of the location of the major Inca centers in some regions was primarily based on the proximity of ancient local shrines within the study area, rather than economic or military reasoning. It was an efficient strategy used by the Inca empire where local cults were prestigious and had regional dimensions. I suggest that on this basis the Inca created few, but large, religious jurisdictions which overlapped and paralleled minor administrative jurisdictions. In many cases, sacred landscapes have been a constant of the Andean world. They were important to local populations before the Inca, and their priests continued to command veneration after the fall of Inca empire and the Spanish extirpation of idolatries. In the case of Aypate, its cult was transformed during colonial times, and today the large pilgrimage to Señor Cautivo de Ayavaca is the main cult center in Northern Peru and beyond. Sacred landscapes were a major feature of Inca provincial organization. It was this relationship between human beings and some features of their local topography and ancestor cults that gave people an affiliation and identity with their territory. The Inca recognized this, and sought to integrate sacred sites and their followers into their religious and social strategies for imperial control. César W. 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Variations in Sociopolitical Organization, New York: Kluwer Academic and Plenum, pp. 303-336. 151 Xerez, Francisco ([1534] 1968), Verdadera relación de la conquista del Perú y provincia de Cuzco llamada la Nueva Castilla , in: Biblioteca Peruana. El Perú a través de los siglos, Primera Serie, vol. 1, Lima: Editores Técnicos Asociados, pp. 191-272. Yaeger, Jason and José López (2004), Reconfiguración de un espacio sagrado. Los inkas y la pirámide Pumapunku en Tiwanaku, Bolivia , in: Chungara. Revista de Antropología Chilena 36(2), pp. 337-350. Ziólkowski, Mariusz (1999), La guerra de los wawqi. Los objetivos y los mecanismos de la rivalidad dentro de la elite inka, s. XV-XVI , Quito: Abya-Yala. 152 D AV I D O S H I G E A D A M S L A S M OT I VA C I O N E S E C O N Ó M I C A S Y R E L I G I O S A S D E L A E X PA N S I Ó N I N C A I C A H A C I A L A C U E N C A DEL LAGO TITICACA David Oshige Adams Las motivaciones económicas y religiosas de la expansión incaica hacia la cuenca del lago Titicaca 153 Luego de dominar a los demás grupos del Cusco y las cuencas vecinas, los incas iniciaron la expansión que años más tarde les convertiría en el estado más importante y grande de América del Sur. Su primer objetivo yacía hacia el sur en la cuenca del lago Titicaca (Collasuyo). Hay, a nuestro entender, dos razones muy poderosas para ello que se encuentran interconectadas: la variedad y cantidad de recursos económicos de la región, a los que accedían a través de intercambios, y las cuestiones religiosas e ideológicas. A pesar de las dificultades climáticas, algunos botánicos sostienen que esta región fue el centro de domesticación más probable de la papa (Solanum tuberosum) (Hawkes 1967, p. 297; Pickersgill y Heiser 1977, p. 820). En esta cuenca o sus alrededores también se habrían domesticado la quinua (Chenopodium quinoa) y la cañihua (Chenopodium pallidicaule) (Heiser y Nelson 1974). También fue uno de los centros de domesticación de los camélidos y el lugar donde los españoles hallaron la mayor cantidad de estos animales. Por otro lado, los incas utilizaron la manipulación ideológica para controlar a los pueblos en los lugares más diversos de los Andes. Arkush (2005, p. 209) señala que hubo una política de incorporación religiosa de las provincias asimilando a las divinidades locales. Los pobladores fueron asimismo involucrados en rituales incaicos realizados en centros de peregrinación o fiestas estatales en el Cusco. Pero la relevancia religiosa del lago Titicaca era tan grande que los incas lo convirtieron en uno de los lugares más sagrados de todo el Tahuantinsuyo. Esta condición de máxima sacralidad se manifiesta en el hecho que fue uno de los lugares de peregrinaje más importantes, junto con el Cusco y Pachacamac. De este modo los incas hábilmente incorporaron al lago Titicaca como uno de sus lugares ancestrales de origen, para así legitimar su dominio en la región. Como señala Hernández Astete (2012, p. 267), al identificar los lugares de origen con aquellos en donde sus primeros antepasados aparecieron, se justificaba su identificación con los territorios y su explotación. Para ello tuvieron que vincularse míticamente con la región y alterar el entorno, para así crear evidencias físicas que le prestaran un soporte a la nueva ideología. Los incas crearon un nuevo paisaje cultural en las orillas del lago pero sobre todo en dos islas, la del Sol (o Titicaca) y la de la Luna (o Coati). De este modo lograron imponer la idea que sus ancestros eran originarios de ese lugar. Stanish y Bauer (2011, pp. 26-27) 154 anotan que “…conquistando, incorporando y realzando los adoratorios de las islas, los Incas consiguieron de manera consciente varios objetivos ideológicos.” La importancia de los camélidos y las caravanas comerciales Bernabé Cobo ([1653] 1979, lib. II, cap. 29, p. 216) anotó que las reservas vivas de llamas eran una de las más grandes riquezas que los indios tenían. La lana era colocada en almacenes y se la separaba según fuera para los rituales, el Inca o la comunidad. Con esta lana se fabricaban tejidos, especialmente cumbi, y había artesanos que elaboraban estos tejidos finos a los cuales se llamaba cumbi camayos. En esta dirección apunta Pease (2007, pp. 78-79), al anotar que el pastoreo y la utilización de los recursos de los camélidos fueron uno de los aspectos más importantes de la economía andina, y que cuando el Inca se desplazaba a otros lugares en tiempos de paz o de guerra, no faltaban los repartos de ropa hecha principalmente con lana de las alpacas del Titicaca. Estos repartos de ropa fueron un mecanismo central en las negociaciones que los incas celebraban con los gobernantes locales para establecer alianzas. Por parte de los cusqueños, estas alianzas se proponían para evitar el conflicto militar, esto es como una forma diplomática de petición de subordinación. Sin embargo, es claro que la principal forma de conquista fue mediante la fuerza, para así apropiarse de los territorios y recursos de otros pueblos y neutralizar posibles enemigos (Stanish 2003, p. 236). Cieza ([1553] 1984, cap. XCIX, fol. 124v., pp. 271-272), por su parte, menciona que la región de los collas era la más grande y la más poblada, y que las planicies estaban llenas de ganado silvestre y de pastos. También añadió que antiguamente esta zona fue muy poblada y que hubo grandes pueblos. Murúa ([1614] 2001, cap. XXVI, p. 542) también sostuvo que esta región era plana, grande, llena y rica; debido a los grandes rebaños de camélidos que pudo ver señaló, además, que era la provincia en donde se hallaban los pueblos más grandes y donde vivían los indios más ricos y poderosos del Perú. Una anotación interesante es que agregó que con estos animales se transportaba vino, hojas de coca, azúcar, harina y maíz, entre otros productos. David Oshige Adams Las motivaciones económicas y religiosas de la expansión incaica hacia la cuenca del lago Titicaca 155 Es que los camélidos le proporcionan al hombre no sólo carne, lana, grasa y combustible. Uno de los mayores beneficios que brindan es la posibilidad de servir como medio de transporte a grandes distancias. Las caravanas de llamas son de suma importancia en la economía de las sociedades altiplánicas y en la interacción y articulación con diversas regiones. Estas caravanas iban y venían transportando productos e ideologías a lo largo de unas rutas comerciales que se remontaban a tiempos muy antiguos. Cieza ([1553] 1984, pp. 272-273) ilustra este tráfico cuando señala que en la región del Collao no faltaba comida porque “nunca dexan de traer cargas de mayz, coca, y fructas de todo género, y cantidad de miel. . . .” Núñez y Nielsen (2011, p. 14) señalan que en ciertas rutas ya había camélidos de carga que formaban parte de las relaciones de tráfico interregional desde la época del Periodo Arcaico Tardío, es decir aproximadamente hacia 2000 a.C. Esto quiere decir que el tráfico de caravanas de llamas es una tradición comercial en esta región de muy larga duración; por lo tanto, tendría unos circuitos bien establecidos y conocidos y su fama habría ido creciendo con el paso de los años. En consecuencia, quien llegase a controlar estas rutas comerciales, obtendría el acceso a una gran variedad de productos y bienes de lugares bastante diversos. Así, por ejemplo, podían conseguir pescados del Océano Pacífico, ají y coca de los valles de la vertiente occidental de los Andes, piedras preciosas y semipreciosas del sur de la cuenca, maíz y otros productos de los valles cálidos del Cusco, y plumas y medicinas en la Amazonía. La adecuada gestión de estos bienes y productos en grandes fiestas y banquetes junto con ceremonias cargadas de religiosidad, habrían sido los pilares del prestigio y poder de las elites de la cuenca del lago Titicaca. Este proceso de captación de seguidores y de mano de obra se habría iniciado al menos desde el Periodo Formativo Medio (circa 1300-500 a.C.), época en la cual se establecieron las primeras sociedades con diferencias de rango (Stanish 2003, p. 109). No es de extrañar, pues, que los incas hayan querido aprovechar el control de este tráfico caravanero, que para la época de su primera expansión habría tenido ya aproximadamente 3,500 años de funcionamiento. Alan Covey (2006, p. 136) argumenta que luego de la formación del estado inca y de que las elites reorganizaran la cuenca de Cusco, el acceso a los bienes de prestigio pasó a ser una prioridad en la estrategia de expansión. Esto se debía a que los gobernantes consumían y redistribuían bienes exóticos, en tanto que las elites usaban los banquetes y regalos de ropa, coca y metales preciosos como reciprocidad por los servicios recibidos. 156 Por estas razones, el estado en desarrollo realizó conquistas territoriales a lo largo de las rutas de las caravanas para asegurarse el acceso directo a recursos no locales. Además de ello estableció y formalizó contactos diplomáticos de larga distancia (esto es, con santuarios como Pachacamac, en la costa central del Perú, o con las entidades políticas de la cuenca del Titicaca; Covey 2006, p. 137). En esta época el altiplano vivía un periodo seco durante el cual el nivel del agua del lago Titicaca se redujo hasta en 17 metros (Arkush 2012, p. 296). Debido a estas circunstancias la agricultura en los campos elevados o camellones se redujo drásticamente, al igual que en los campos de secano debido a la inestabilidad de las lluvias. Así, durante el Periodo Intermedio Tardío o Periodo Altiplano, las sociedades tenían una economía agropecuaria con un fuerte énfasis en el manejo de grandes rebaños de camélidos. Bauer y Stanish (2003, pp. 59-60) sostienen que para conservar los grandes rebaños se intensificó el uso de los pastizales de puna y se creó un sistema de asentamientos más disperso. Esto quiere decir que en la época anterior a la llegada de los incas, el pastoreo de camélidos se estaba desarrollando con mayor intensidad en el altiplano. Estos animales habrían servido como fuente de alimento y de materia prima para textiles y ropas, pero también para seguir desarrollando, mediante caravanas, a las rutas de intercambio, las cuales habrían sufrido modificaciones luego del colapso del estado en Tiahuanaco. En este sentido es importante señalar que Stanish (2003, p. 271; 2012, p. 377) sugiere que el área de Moquegua estuvo controlada por los collas durante el Periodo Intermedio Tardío, o que éstos al menos controlaban las relaciones de intercambio. Luego, como señalan Núñez y Dillehay (1995, pp. 128-129), una vez que los incas se hicieron del control de la parte central de la cuenca del Titicaca, asimilaron también las rutas preexistentes entre las tierras altas y bajas. Lograron esto mediante el dominio directo, esto es la presión cultural, tecnológica, social, religiosa y económica, o a través del dominio indirecto, como por ejemplo manipulando las instituciones. Pero estos autores también anotan que se ampliaron las rutas y que por primera vez en la historia de la región se puso en práctica un tipo de administración diferente. Esta gestión administrativa funcionaba centralizando los bienes en movimiento y proveyendo recursos e ideologías según viejos acuerdos de reciprocidad, armonía social y participación social. Así, el nuevo modelo de penetración se fundamentó en la redistribución de la tierra y en la explotación de recursos que no se desarrollaban localmente (Núñez y Dillehay 1995, pp. 129-130). David Oshige Adams Las motivaciones económicas y religiosas de la expansión incaica hacia la cuenca del lago Titicaca 157 La conquista del Collao por parte de los incas Las fuentes históricas son ambiguas en lo que respecta al momento en que la región del Titicaca fue incorporada al estado inca (Stanish y Bauer 2011, p. 38). Algunos cronistas refieren que fue Viracocha Inca quien conquistó la región del lago Titicaca, mientras que otros señalan que este evento se produjo durante el reinado de Pachacuti. Pero a pesar de estos problemas, parece estar claro que el estado inca inició su expansión hacia el Collao –o al menos realizó su primera incursión–durante el gobierno de Viracocha Inca (BouysseCassagne 2004, p. 80). El propio Cieza ([1533] 1984, cap. C, fol. 125v., p. 274) escribió que antes de la llegada de los incas había en el Collao dos grandes señores, Zapana y Cari, los gobernantes de los collas y los lupacas, respectivamente. Ambos estaban enfrascados en constantes luchas y procuraban ganarse la amistad y el favor de “Viracocha Inga”, quien reinaba en el Cusco, e incluso le enviaron “embajadores”, a lo que Viracocha respondió consultando al oráculo, tras lo cual decidió apoyar a Cari (Cieza [1553] 2000, cap. XLII, pp. 134-135). En este sentido, los incas fueron sumamente hábiles para manejar en provecho propio los conflictos entre los diferentes grupos o etnias de los territorios que les interesaba anexar; por ejemplo, también gestionaron una alianza con los canas contra los canchis (ambas etnias asentadas en la región que se extiende entre el Cusco y el Collao). Pero no sólo anexaron territorios aprovechando las rivalidades existentes entre grupos o etnias. Como señala Covey (2006, p. 191), los incas primero trasladaban su gran ejército y luego intentaban convencer a las elites locales de que establecieran una alianza de subordinación. La vía diplomática comprendía el ofrecimiento de regalos (como los metales preciosos y los finos tejidos) y alianzas matrimoniales. Pero una vez agotada esta negociación y al no tener una respuesta positiva, los incas procedían entonces a usar la fuerza. Cobo ([1653] 1979, lib. II, cap. 13, p. 149) recogió la versión según la cual el Inca Pachacuti envió su ejército al Collao y que su rey salió a hacerle frente. El combate habría sido feroz y prolongado, pero la mayor experiencia guerrera de los incas hizo que finalmente fueran los vencedores. 158 En castigo, el Inca destruyó el pueblo de Ayaviri y luego persiguió al Colla Capac, a quien volvió a enfrentar en el pueblo de Pucará. En este lugar el Inca volvió a vencer y el “rey” colla fue tomado prisionero. Su suerte estaba decidida al haber osado enfrentar al Inca. Sarmiento (1988, p. 105) anota que luego del triunfo cusqueño, todos los pueblos que obedecían al Colla Capac llegaron para rendir pleitesía a Pachacuti, quien los esperaba en Hatuncolla, llevándole oro, plata y ropas. El Inca regresó luego al Cusco con el Chuchi Capac (Colla Capac) como prisionero y le hizo decapitar. Murúa ([1614] 2001, cap. XX, pp. 66-67) a su vez nos dice que Pachacuti mandó levantar la Casa del Sol (Coricancha) en el Cusco, y que en el transcurso de su construcción salió a la conquista del Collasuyo. A su paso por los territorios conquistados iba dejando caciques, señores y capitanes y cuando volvió triunfante al Cusco llevaba consigo gran cantidad de oro y plata, y sacrificó a Colla Capac en honor al Sol. Las diferencias en el trato dispensado a collas y lupacas son asimismo muy claras, tal como sucedió en otras zonas donde los incas también premiaron con generosidad a los grupos o etnias que aceptaron subordinarse y/o establecer alianzas, y castigaron duramente a quienes se alzaron en armas contra ellos. Así, mientras que algunas “elites” collas fueron trasladadas al área nuclear incaica como trabajadores, los miembros de las “elites” lupacas recibieron honores por parte del Inca, los que incluyeron tejidos finos, conchas de spondylus y el derecho a viajar en litera (Covey 2006). Stanish (2003, p. 271; 2012, p. 377) asimismo sugiere que los intercambios comerciales con el valle de Moquegua, que los collas controlaban, cambiaron ahora de “dueño”. Con la derrota militar sufrida en el altiplano por los collas a manos de los incas, éstos pasaron a dominar dicho flujo comercial. No sólo esto, sino que en su reemplazo se colocó a los lupacas como administradores de la zona. Frye (2005, pp. 198-199) agrega, además, que por haberse rebelado y resistido al dominio inca, la región colla fue organizada y dividida territorialmente de manera tal que fuese más sencillo controlarla militarmente. Este hecho es muy interesante, puesto que la situación difiere por completo de la organización de otras regiones de la cuenca del lago Titicaca. Esta rebeldía de los collas es también visible en un canto documentado por Juan de Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui Salcamaygua ([1630] 1995, 18 r., pp. 56-57; consúltese también Itier 1993, pp. 146-147; Julien 2004, p. 20; Rostworowski 1993, p. 10): David Oshige Adams Las motivaciones económicas y religiosas de la expansión incaica hacia la cuenca del lago Titicaca 159 Tú, rey de Cuzco, yo rey de Colla Beberemos, comeremos, hablaremos Que nadie hable Yo me siento en plata, tú te sientas en oro Tú adoras a Viracocha Creador de Mundo, Yo adoro al sol Este canto habría sido entonado por el jefe o señor más importante de los colla llamado Zapana, Rukisapana, Chucgi Qhapaq o Colla Qhapaq (Arkush 2011, p. 38) durante las festividades organizadas por el matrimonio y coronación del Inca Viracocha. Pachacuti Yamqui agrega que el señor de los collas llegó en andas, con elegancia y guardaespaldas, trayendo además consigo a su ídolo, el cual estaba muy adornado. Es interesante anotar que Sarmiento de Gamboa ([1572] 1988, p. 104) señala que el “rey” colla tenía tanto poder que se hacía llamar Inca Capac. Este canto guarda una información muy importante a pesar que su autenticidad no es clara, puesto que nos transmite la intención de mostrar al jefe colla como un señor de tal importancia que estaba al mismo nivel que el Inca. Sin embargo, debemos resaltar que arqueológicamente no se han recogido evidencias de que los collas hayan tenido una organización política y social, o que hayan estado unificados bajo un solo líder o “rey”. Aparentemente hay una discrepancia entre el registro arqueológico y los datos etnohistóricos en lo que se refiere a este tema (Arkush 2011, pp. 220-221, 2012, p. 315; Frye 2005, p. 198). La misma cuestión surge con respecto a la complejidad social y el dominio territorial atribuidos a los lupacas en los documentos etnohistóricos (Frye y de la Vega 2005, p. 184). Los datos sugieren una gran fragmentación y un periodo de conflictos y guerras, a juzgar por la gran cantidad de sitios fortificados en la cima de los cerros (pukaras). Es posible que en determinados momentos, los diferentes grupos collas o lupacas hayan establecido alianzas o “sistemas sociales de redes cooperativas” en lugares defensivos y que controlaban áreas locales (Arkush 2012, p. 314). En estos momentos se habría producido una especie de confederación que habría tenido algunas cabezas visibles y quizá un jefe o curaca único temporal, el cual habría sido tomado por los cronistas españoles como el “rey” o “gobernante”. 160 Las fuentes escritas y los mitos de origen de los incas La representación del ancestro fundador como un extranjero o un extraño es común en los mitos de origen de los reinos y estados antiguos del mundo. Además este fundador usualmente tiene poderes sobrenaturales o cuenta con una tecnología avanzada, y deambula de un lugar a otro hasta llegar al lugar donde está destinado a gobernar (Urton 1990, p. 1). En el caso de los incas este héroe fundador se llama Manco Cápac, quien es mencionado en un mito de origen que tiene como escenario los alrededores del Cusco (Pacariqtambo). Sin embargo, los cronistas combinaron este mito de origen con otro que incorporaba al escenario del Titicaca. Como mencionan Stanish y Bauer (2011, p. 14), con esto los ideólogos incas lograron asociar a la elite gobernante del Cusco con el principal centro de adoración de una de las más importantes provincias de las tierras altas. Así por ejemplo, para Garcilaso, Manco Cápac viajó del lago Titicaca al Cusco a través de Pacariqtambo y los descendientes de este fundador mítico se convirtieron en los Incas de sangre real (en Bauer 1996, p. 51; consúltese también Pease 1985, pp. 58-59). Cobo ([1653] 1979, cap. 8, p. 103) a su vez recogió información según la cual los Incas llegaron al Cusco desde el lago Titicaca con las orejas perforadas y con aretes de oro. También se decía que luego de crear las cosas en Tiahuanaco, el creador del mundo (Huiracocha o Ticciviracocha) le ordenó al Sol, la Luna y las Estrellas que se dirigieran a la isla de Titicaca (la isla del Sol) y que de allí subieran al cielo. Cuando el Sol estaba listo para partir en forma de un hombre brillante y esplendoroso, habló con Manco Cápac y le dijo que él y sus descendientes iban a dominar muchos territorios y pueblos; y además que iban a ser grandes gobernantes y que siempre lo adoraran como su padre (Cobo [1653] 1979, lib. II, cap. 3, p. 105). Cristóbal de Molina ([1578] 2011, pp. 4-5) presenta una versión híbrida que combina ambos mitos de origen incaicos con elementos cristianos. Molina sostiene que Manco Cápac fue el primer Inca y que a partir de él comenzaron a llamarse “Hijos del Sol”. Sin embargo, luego menciona que hubo un gran diluvio y que todos murieron salvo por un hombre y una mujer, a los cuales el viento echó después de tiempo en Tiahuanaco. En este lugar habría vivido el dios Huiracocha (también denominado Hacedor), quien creó al sol, la luna y las estrellas, y puso fin a la oscuridad que allí imperaba. David Oshige Adams Las motivaciones económicas y religiosas de la expansión incaica hacia la cuenca del lago Titicaca 161 Después de que el “creador” formara a todos los hombres y mujeres y las naciones en Tiahuanaco, les ordenó que descendieran por debajo de la tierra y que luego emergieran en los lugares donde él ordenase como cuevas, cerros, manantiales, lagos, árboles y así sucesivamente. De este modo los linajes tuvieron su origen en aquellos lugares en donde se convertirían en huacas. Es interesante mencionar aquí cómo los cronistas españoles mezclaron las historias que recogieron con elementos de su propia religión. Pero esta manipulación incluye la propia información acerca de las divinidades indígenas. Por su parte, César Itier (2013, p. 83) señala que estos cronistas, junto con los evangelizadores, construyeron una imagen de Huiracocha que podía ser análoga a la del Dios cristiano, creador de todas las cosas. Añade además que el verdadero significado o sentido de esta divinidad sería el océano o su “espíritu”, el cual sostiene a la tierra y asciende a la superficie a través de lagunas y manantiales. De este modo no sería un creador universal sino la deidad que le dio el “ánima” a los ancestros fundadores de los grupos de agricultores, así como también al sol, la luna y el trueno. Por estos motivos, Huiracocha estaría ligado de modo sumamente íntimo con el lago Titicaca y la ideología de sus pobladores. A pesar de esta manipulación inicial por parte de los cronistas y su confusión a la hora de entender el sistema de creencias de los habitantes del Collao, debemos señalar algo muy importante: en las narraciones hay una referencia recurrente al lago Titicaca, sus islas y el sitio de Tiahuanaco como los lugares donde los incas y sus divinidades más importantes tuvieron su origen mítico. La larga importancia religiosa de los santuarios en el lago Titicaca Martti Pärssinen (2003, pp. 260-261) menciona que los incas admiraban a Tiahuanaco. Mas a pesar de las referencias que indican que este lugar les era importante, no hay evidencias arquitectónicas relevantes de ello. Por dicho motivo Pärssinen señala tentativamente a Copacabana como el nuevo Tiahuanaco, en el mismo sentido que algunos centros incaicos eran considerados como “el nuevo Cusco”. Los incas emprendieron una reforma religiosa en Copacabana y las islas donde aún vivían los descendientes de Tiahuanaco, quienes seguían venerando los lugares sagrados (Bouysse-Cassagne 2004, p. 80). 162 Covey (2006, p. 192) añade que los incas cooptaron el poder ideológico y religioso al promover un sistema de peregrinación y establecer una finca real en Tiahuanaco. Es importante mencionar que el primer gran sitio en la Isla del Sol se construyó durante el periodo del estado homónimo. Éste se erigió en la zona en la cual los incas posteriormente adujeron que había nacido el Sol (la Roca Sagrada). En esta época ya se realizaban rituales de peregrinación hacia este lugar, y en la isla de la Luna también se realizaron ceremonias religiosas (Bauer, Covey y Terry 2004, p. 61). Estos autores añaden que dichas islas fueron incorporadas al estado tiahuanaco hacia mediados del primer milenio después de Cristo. Es interesante señalar que tras el colapso del estado tiahuanaco, en tiempos de los lupacas, estos sitios aparentemente no siguieron siendo lugares de peregrinación. Stanish y Bauer (2004, p. 39) proponen que fueron abandonados y que ya no tuvieron importancia regional. Sin embargo, muchos años después, la elite inca muy posiblemente intentó vincularse con el antiguo estado tiahuanaco (Stanish y Bauer 2011, p. 27). Esto probablemente se debió a que su prestigio e importancia ritual perduraron en la memoria colectiva de la gente, no obstante el tiempo transcurrido. De este modo los incas convirtieron un adoratorio de importancia regional en el lugar de nacimiento del cosmos y del origen del linaje fundador del Tahuantinsuyo (Stanish y Bauer 2011, p. 63). El área de la Roca Sagrada sufrió una serie de modificaciones. Ramos Gavilán ([1621] 1988, lib. 1, cap. 26, p. 164) anotó que se trataba de un gran afloramiento de piedra que tenía una pequeña oquedad, en donde se creía que el Sol había surgido; asimismo señaló que su parte posterior descendía hacia las aguas del lago y que estaba cubierta con los más finos textiles (cumbi). La otra cara de la roca, por su parte, estaba cubierta con planchas de oro y plata, y tenía un espacio en donde se echaban ofrendas (Ramos Gavilán [1621] 1988, lib. 1, cap. 17, pp. 115-116, lib. 1, cap. 24, p. 150). Cobo ([1653] 1990, bk. 1, cap. 18, pp. 96-97) agrega que en el templo se adoraba al Sol, pero también estaban la imagen del Trueno y de otras divinidades; menciona, además, que en las ventanas y nichos se colocaron ídolos de figuras humanas, llamas, aves y otros animales de cobre, plata y oro. Esto quiere decir que es posible que en el templo de la Roca Sagrada se hayan celebrado algunos rituales parecidos a los que se llevaban a cabo en el Coricancha, en Cusco. David Oshige Adams Las motivaciones económicas y religiosas de la expansión incaica hacia la cuenca del lago Titicaca 163 La importancia religiosa de la cuenca del lago Titicaca queda demostrada también cuando Murúa (2004 [1616], fol. 67v., pp. 148-149) señala que en el Collao había una mayor cantidad de huacas que en las restantes provincias, y además que “Titicaca” era la principal y a donde acudían de todo el reino. Esta última parte reafirma la importancia que esta isla tuvo como lugar de peregrinación. Esta ruta de peregrinaje estuvo asociada a las instalaciones estatales contruidas en el camino hacia las islas y en ellas, las cuales fueron diseñadas con el fin de apropiarse de la legitimidad ideológica propia de la elite local (Stanish y Bauer 2011, pp. 26-27). Los incas, entonces, llegaron a esta región con el afán de anexar un territorio que albergaba a muchas personas, una gran cantidad de rebaños de camélidos y el usufructo de las rutas comerciales. Pero esta zona también atesoraba cultos e ideologías muy poderosos donde la figura divina de Huiracocha era preponderante; esto debido a que su naturaleza lo vinculaba con el agua y la fertilidad pero a la vez con el sol, la luna y los truenos. Así que los incas tuvieron un interés económico e ideológico, y cumplieron sus objetivos de dominación mediante la fuerza o la negociación diplomática. Por último, para legitimar su dominio manipularon al paisaje y la historia para vincularse míticamente con el lago, y cooptaron el poder religioso local. 164 O b ra s c i t a d a s Arkush, Elizabeth (2005), Inca Ceremonial Sites in the Southwest Titicaca Basin , en: Advances in Titicaca Basin Archaeology 1, Charles Stanish, Amanda Cohen y Mark Aldenderfer (eds.), Los Ángeles, CA: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, UCLA. (2011), Hillforts of the Ancient Andes. Colla Warfare, Society, and Landscape , Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida. (2012), Los pukaras y el poder. Los collas en la cuenca septentrional del Titicaca , en: Arqueología de la cuenca del Titicaca, Perú, Luis Flores Blanco y Henry Tantaleán (eds.), Lima: Instituto Francés de Estudios Andinos (IFEA) y Los Angeles, CA: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California, pp. 295-320. Bauer, Brian (1996), El desarrollo del estado inca, Cusco: Centro de Estudios Regionales “Bartolomé de las Casas”. 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Reed (ed.), The Hague y Paris: Mouton Publishers, pp. 803-835. Ramos Gavilán, Alonso ([1621] 1988), Historia del santuario de Nuestra Señora de Copacabana , Lima: Edición Ignacio Prado Pastor. Rostworowski, María (1993), Ensayos de historia andina. Elites, etnias, recursos , Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos (IEP). Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui Salcamaygua, Juan de ([1630] 1995), Relación de antigüedades de este reino del Perú , Lima: Fondo de Cultura Económica. Sarmiento de Gamboa, Pedro ([1572] 1988), Historia de los incas , Madrid: Miraguano Ediciones y Ediciones Polifemo. 165 Stanish, Charles (2003), Ancient Titicaca. The Evolution of Complex Society in Southern Peru and Northern Bolivia, Berkeley y Los Ángeles, CA: University of California Press. (2012), La ocupación inca en la cuenca del Titicaca , en: Arqueología de la cuenca del Titicaca, Perú, Luis Flores Blanco, y Henry Tantaleán (eds.) Lima: Instituto Francés de Estudios Andinos (IFEA), y Los Ángeles, CA: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California. Stanish, Charles y Brian Bauer (2004). The Settlement History of the Island of the Sun, en: Archaeological Research on the Islands of the Sun and Moon, Lake Titicaca, Bolivia. Final Results from the Proyecto Tiksi Kjarka, Charles Stanish, y Brian Bauer (eds.), Los Ángeles, CA: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, University of California. (2011), Peregrinaje y geografía del poder en el estado inca, en: Estudios sobre los incas, Brian Bauer, ed. Cusco: Centro de Estudios Regionales Andinos Bartolomé de las Casas. Urton, Gary (1990), The History of a Myth. Pacariqtambo and the Origin of the Inkas, Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. 166 C O N S TA N Z A C E R U T I I N C A O F F E R I N G S A S S O C I AT E D W I T H T H E F R O Z E N M U M M I E S F R O M M O U N T L LU L L A I L L A C O Constanza Ceruti Inca Offerings Associated with the Frozen Mummies from Mount Llullaillaco 167 Inca Offerings Associated with the Frozen Mummies from Mount Llullaillaco Five centuries ago, the highest Andean mountains were climbed by Inca priests for the ritual performance of sacrifices, and the subsequent burial of human victims and associated offering assemblages. Spanish chroniclers wrote about the ceremonies of Capacocha during which young women and children–usually the sons and daughters of local rulers– were offered to the imperial deities together with a diverse assortment of symbolic items, such as gold and silver figurines, shell necklaces, high quality textiles, pottery, food, and firewood, for the good fortune of a recently crowned Inca emperor, and to ensure the fertility of the crops and llamas. In this paper I discuss the assemblages of offerings associated with the three frozen Inca mummies discovered during archaeological research conducted by Johan Reinhard and myself on the summit of Mount Llullaillaco, a volcano in northwestern Argentina. By correlating the archaeological evidence with the historical sources, interpretations will be presented regarding the role of mortuary offering assemblages associated with Inca mummies on sacred Andean peaks. Introduction Three frozen bodies belonging to a young woman and two children were found at an altitude of 6,715 meters above sea level (22,031 feet) during scientific excavations funded by the National Geographic Society and directed by Johan Reinhard and myself. The Inca shrine on the summit of the Llullaillaco volcano is believed to be the highest archaeological site in the world. The three mummies discovered there are those of children who were sacrificed five hundred years ago, under the rule of the Inca empire, as part of a state ceremony known as Capacocha. According to the historical sources written during and shortly after the Hispanic conquest of the central Andes, the practice of human sacrifice was restricted among the Incas to rare occasions such as natural catastrophes or the death of an emperor (Cobo [1653] 1990, p. 151). Selected children were taken in processions to the highest summits and symbolically sent as messengers into the world of the ancestral spirits to appease the mountain deities, ensure fertility, and bring about the well-being of the recently crowned new emperor (Ceruti 2004). 168 The Inca frozen bodies from Mount Llullaillaco are those of a fifteen year old girl, a seven year old boy, and a six year old girl. The older female is known as the “maiden” because she had probably been incorporated into the system of “chosen women” or acllakuna, who were kept secluded and in a virginal condition until they were in their mid-teens (Acosta [1590] 1962). The younger female and the boy may have been offered by their presumably noble parents to partake in the Capacocha ceremony as part of political strategies that allowed local rulers to strengthen their links with a new Inca monarch, as narrated in the chronicles (Hernández Principe [1621] 1986). The Llullaillaco individuals are among the best preserved mummies ever recovered. The scientific study of these bodies was coordinated for five years at the Institute of High Mountain Research at the Catholic University of Salta. Important results were obtained in the fields of paleoradiology (Previgliano et al. 2003, 2005), dental studies (Arias Aráoz et al. 2002), hair analysis (Cartmell 2001; Wilson et al. 2013), ancient DNA (Reinhard and Ceruti 2010, pp. 103-104), as well as contributions to the archaeology and ethnohistory of the ritual life of the Incas (Ceruti 1999, 2003, 2005, 2002-2005; Reinhard and Ceruti 2006, 2010). The Llullaillaco mummies were buried about 1.7 meters deep in individual pits inside a funerary platform, approximately ten by six meters in length and width (Reinhard and Ceruti 2000). They had been buried together with a total of more than one hundred sumptuary objects that included textiles, gold and silver statues, pottery, food, and feathered headdresses. According to the chroniclers’ accounts these were conceived as supplies for the journey into the world of the ancestors as well as propitiatory offerings to be presented to the imperial deities and the local mountain spirits. This paper focuses on the social use and the symbolic meaning of such pieces of associated offerings, based on scientific analysis, as well as ethnohistorical and ethnographic references. Constanza Ceruti Inca Offerings Associated with the Frozen Mummies from Mount Llullaillaco 169 Description and Interpretation of the Offerings Associated with the Llullaillaco Mummies The sacrificial victims of Inca Capacocha ceremonies were buried in textile bundles with assemblages of offerings in accordance with their sex and age. Gender-specific offerings such as male and female figurines are generally found to be associated with sacrificial victims of the same sex represented by the statues (Schobinger 2001, pp. 266-301; Reinhard and Ceruti 2010, p. 16). Pottery offerings are more widely represented in female burials, although certain types such as arybalos and plates can also be found in male burials. It appears that the offerings are more numerous and more varied in the case of female victims than they are in the case of male victims. Metal and Seashell Figurines Small anthropomorphic and zoomorphic figurines made of metal were placed in close association with the bodies of the Llullaillaco mummies. Chroniclers note that precious metals such as gold (qori in Quechua) and silver (collqe in Quechua) were not only appreciated for their economic value, but were actually worshiped as symbolic manifestations of the divinity of the sun and the moon (Murúa [1590] 1946, p. 278). In the Llullaillaco funerary contexts, statues were aligned to form a row and were deposited on the opposite side of the body from where the pottery and textile offerings were placed. Three female figurines made of gold, silver, and Spondylus were aligned on the left side of the Llullaillaco maiden’s mummy. Another set of three female figurines was found near her burial. Four female figurines were placed in a row inside the burial of the young girl of Llullaillaco. One anthropomorphic masculine figurine, and one representing a llama, were recovered in direct association with the mummy of the Llullaillaco boy, whereas several groups of the same kinds of figurines were found in separate assemblages scattered nearby in the platform fill (Reinhard and Ceruti 2000, 2010). Chroniclers provide a few explanations for the symbolic meanings of the metal and seashell figurines that were placed as grave goods or that formed separate offering assemblages. The male and female statues may have represented deities (Anónimo [1590] 1968, p. 160; Murúa [1590] 1946, p. 257) or members of the Inca royal elite (Albornoz 170 [1583] 1984, p.194; Betanzos [1557] 1996, p. 48). Alternative hypotheses include human figurines representing substitutes for actual human sacrifices (Schobinger 1966, p. 207), female victims being symbolically transformed into votive figurines (Farrington 1998), Spondylus seashell statues representing mountain deities in control of weather and fertility (Reinhard 1985), or assemblages representing a miniature of the Inca emperor´s cosmos, with statues standing in for those subjected to his rule. In my opinion, male gold figurines are likely to represent Inca ritual experts or priests, because noble attributes such as elongated and pierced earlobes are clearly represented. Female figurines are likely to represent the acllakuna or “chosen women”, based on the similarity of the miniature feather headdresses found on the figurines and the full size feather headdresses associated with young female victims of Capacocha ceremonies (see Ceruti 2003). The figurines representing llamas may have been intended to increase the fertility of herds (Arriaga [1621] 1984). The symbolic link between zoomorphic figurines and fertility is widely accepted, enhanced by the fact that metal statues have clear representations of erect phalluses. An interesting pattern of association between human male and llama figurines was identified in the offering assemblages distributed around the burial of the boy on the summit of Llullaillaco. Formed by two male human figurines and two or three zoomorphic statues representing camelids, they had been placed in a row, the human figurines ahead and the llama figurines following them (Reinhard and Ceruti 2000). Human male and llama figurines were also associated with the burial of the mummy from Mount Aconcagua, in western Argentina (Schobinger 2001, pp. 266-301) and in the burials from Mount Misti, near Arequipa, in Peru (Ceruti 2013, pp. 359-372; Reinhard and Ceruti 2010, pp. 16-18). The repetition of this pattern in mountaintop offering assemblages, as well as the importance of miniature figurines representing camelids in ritual ethnographic contexts (Manzo and Raviña 1996, p. 9; Reinhard 1985, p. 313), suggest that these assemblages of figurines on Llullaillaco may have been meant to ensure the fertility of the flocks or the prosperity of the caravans (Reinhard and Ceruti 2010, pp. 16-18). As a matter of fact, chroniclers referred to arrays of statues representing “sheep” (llamas) and their “herders” that were displayed in the gardens of Coricancha, the Sun Temple, at the capital city of Cusco (Cieza [1553] 1959, p. 147). An alternative interpretation is that the rows of human male and llama statues could have been meant to represent the very procession of Capacocha, which according to the written sources, was led by priests and accompanied by llamas loaded with offerings (Molina [1553] 1959, p. 96). Constanza Ceruti Inca Offerings Associated with the Frozen Mummies from Mount Llullaillaco 171 Pottery and Wooden Objects Sets of pottery items were recorded from inside the burials of the two females from Llullaillaco. There was one arybalo, one jar, one pedestal pot, and two or three pairs of plates, and a pair of bowls in the burial of the younger female. A pair of miniature wooden vases or keros was buried with the Llullaillaco maiden, whereas a pair of full size keros was found in association with the younger girl. An arybalo was also found in association with the burial of the Llullaillaco boy. It was fractured, with the base detached from the rest of the vessel. Compositional analysis of paste samples extracted from diverse pottery items was performed, with the intention of identifying the area where the Llullaillaco pieces had been originally manufactured (Bray et al. 2005). Ceramics present appear to have originated in Cusco, in the Lake Titicaca region, and locally (ibid., tables 4, 5). Pottery offerings are more widely represented in female burials, although certain types, such as arybalos and plates, can also be found in male burials. Arybalos and bottles are functionally related to the transportation, storage, and distribution of chicha, whereas ollas are devoted to cooking, and plates and bowls to the consumption of food. Sometimes the pieces are miniatures, whose primary function is symbolic rather than utilitarian. According to the chronicles, miniature pots in the burials of female sacrificial victims symbolically represented the housewares of married women (Betanzos [1557] 1996, p. 77). Certain objects, such as plates, bowls, and wooden keros, have usually been found in pairs at mountaintop burials. The pairing of the plates and vases can be related to the Andean etiquette of ritually sharing food and drink (Randall 1992, p. 75). Ritual drinking with two vases is described in the earliest Spanish sources (Betanzos [1557] 1996, p. 67) and is also represented in drawings of the mestizo chronicler Guaman Poma de Ayala (Guaman Poma [ca. 1615] 1987, pp. 143, 285). It has been suggested that the Inca sacrificial victims were buried with the same vases in which they had been given their last drink (Linares Málaga 1968, p. 115). The fact that children were given plenty of food and alcoholic beverages prior to their sacrifice has been explained as an attempt to help them go contentedly to the presence of the Maker (Molina [1575] 1959, p. 93). Nonetheless, there were practical reasons, because alcohol was also intended to dull the senses at the moment of death (Cobo [1590] 1996, p. 236; 172 Ramos Gavilán [1621], p. 81). In my doctoral dissertation (Ceruti 2003, p. 101), based on the position of the bodies and the bundling techniques of the Llullaillaco mummies, I suggested that the maiden and the girl probably died at the summit shrine, whereas the boy could have accidentally died on the way to the summit, due to complications caused by the extreme altitude. With his torso and flexed legs tightly wrapped with a rope it would have been easier to carry his body during the final stages of the climb. In addition, the artefactual evidence seems to support this hypothesis: Unlike the two females, the boy did not have a pair of wooden keros in his burial. In addition, the arybalo placed near his body is the only one that was found with visible remains of chicha, indicating that it was never actually drunk during the ceremony on the summit. Food Items and Coca Leaves Food items contained in textile bags and placed in the burials of Llullaillaco included corn, peanuts, dried potatoes, and dried meat (charqui in Quechua). Food items may have been symbolically intended to sustain the children in the afterlife, or they may have been meant as food to be offered to the spirits of the mountains and ancestors (Cobo [1653] 1990, p. 115). Chroniclers describe pieces of coca leaves being placed in the mouths of humans beings just prior to their sacrificial deaths (Ramos [1621] 1976, p. 26). Archaeological evidence supports this assertion, because the Llullaillaco maiden was found to have had small fragments of coca leaves around her mouth, on her lips, and in her hands. The coca leaf was a common offering in Inca times (Murua [1590] 1946, p. 242) and still is in many areas of the Andes today (Allen 1988). Although today the coca leaves have been incorporated into the ordinary diet, the chewing of coca leaves was restricted at the time of the Inca Empire (Levillier 1940, p. 131). Hair analysis performed on the three Llullaillaco mummies tested positive for cocaine (Cartmell 2001; Wilson et al. 2007), thus providing another source of evidence to show that the children selected for sacrifice had been under the strict control of the Inca state. Constanza Ceruti Inca Offerings Associated with the Frozen Mummies from Mount Llullaillaco 173 Spondylus Shells and Necklaces The Spondylus shell, called by the Quechua name mullu, was highly esteemed by the Incas, who considered the material to be more valuable than gold (Sarmiento de Gamboa [1572] 1999, p. 167). The Quechua manuscript of Huarochiri states that in prehispanic times, mullu was symbolically fed to the sacred places, being one of the favorite “dishes” of the huacas (Taylor 1999, p. 299). Since in South America this sea-shell can only be found in the warm waters of the coast of Ecuador, its exotic nature increased its economic and symbolic value, rooted in its supposed efficacy in attracting rain. The ritual importance of Spondylus in the Andean world has survived until the present (Rosing 1996). The use of Spondylus shell has been well documented in the archaeological record from Llullaillaco, where miniature carved figurines are not the only offerings made of this material. On this mountaintop site we found a Spondylus necklace woven in wool and human hair, surrounding the assemblage of llama figurines in a row with two male statues mentioned earlier (Reinhard and Ceruti 2010, p. 83). In addition to the artefactual use of Spondylus, the natural shell was also incorporated as an offering, which was generally placed close to the surface, after the refilling of the tombs. Necklaces of sea-shells were noted as being worn during important Inca ceremonies (Cobo [1652] 1990, p. 151). In 2000 I observed a necklace of trapezoidal Spondylus beads, almost identical to the one recovered from Llullaillaco, in an exhibit at the Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología, e Historia del Perú, surprisingly in association with a funerary bundle of the Paracas period (about 1,500 years before the time of the Incas). The American Museum of Natural History in New York has a similar specimen with wool cordage, attributed to the Nazca Valley and culture (Craig Morris, personal communication, accession number 41.0/5454). In view of the continuity of Andean beliefs attached to the mullu sea-shell, we cannot rule out the hypothesis that the Incas may have been reusing valuable antiques for their own ceremonial purposes. 174 Textile Garments and Feathered Ornaments Inca sacrificial victims on mountaintop shrines were usually buried with the clothing that they were wearing at the moment of death, plus outer textile mantles used to wrap them as bundles. Chronicler Martín de Murua ([1590] 1946, p. 319) refers to the custom of including bags, spare sandals, and extra tunics inside the bundles. In the case of the Llullaillaco boy, two extra tunics were included in his bundle, in addition to two pairs of sandals, and two slings placed in the burial close to his body. The young girl from Llullaillaco also had spare moccasins and sandals. Fine tunics were sent as diplomatic presents by the Inca to local leaders or curacas. Curacas often had important roles in the Capacochas, even offering their own children, as reported by the chroniclers (Hernández Príncipe [1621] 1986). This could explain why fine male tunics were buried together with female victims on Mount Llullaillaco and elsewhere (Reinhard and Ceruti 2000, p. 78). The Llullaillaco checkerboard tunic is of the type described by John Rowe as having been a gift of the Inca to local rulers (Rowe 1979, p. 240-250). The application of feathers on textile bags and mantles has been well documented in the offerings on Llullaillaco, since a chuspa or bag covered in red feathers and presumably containing coca leaves, was placed in the burial of the younger girl, while a similar white feathered bag was buried in direct association with the boy. Feathers were also given special value among the Incas and the use of objects covered in feathers was restricted to noble people and ceremonial contexts (Betanzos [1557] 1996, p. 195). In Inca times, it was a common practice for a person’s own hair and nails to be kept to be buried with his body at death, as they were seen as important for accompanying the soul in the afterlife (Garcilaso [1609] 1966, pp. 84-85). The three individuals from Llullaillaco were accompanied by little bags, apparently made of skin from the testicles of llamas, containing cut hair that belonged to the same children, as proven by ancient DNA analysis (Wilson et al. 2007). Constanza Ceruti Inca Offerings Associated with the Frozen Mummies from Mount Llullaillaco 175 Conclusions The archaeological items from the summit of Mount Llullaillaco, in Northwestern Argentina, constitute one of the best preserved and best documented collections of Inca offerings ever found. Three mummies and their associated offerings were discovered (and recovered for preservation and study) during scientific excavations that I co-directed at the highest archaeological site in the world. The mummies are those of children who were sacrificed five hundred years ago, under the rule of the Inca Empire. The sacrifice of the young victims on Llullaillaco was most probably performed to appease the deities and ensure the well-being of the Inca emperor and the local communities. According to the historical sources written around the time of the Hispanic conquest, Inca human sacrifices were performed in response to natural catastrophes, the death of an Inca emperor, or to propitiate the mountain spirits that grant fertility. The selected children and the young acllas or “chosen women” were taken in processions to the highest summits of the Andes and they were believed to become messengers into the world of the mountain deities and the spirits of the ancestors. Interdisciplinary studies conducted on the frozen mummies from Llullaillaco during the nearly six years in which they were temporarily preserved at the Catholic University of Salta (UCASAL) included radiological evaluations by conventional X-rays and by CT scans, which provided information about the condition and pathology of the bones and internal organs, as well as dental studies that estimated the ages of the three children at the time of death. Ancient DNA studies and hair analysis were also performed in cooperation with academic institutions in the United States and Europe, including the Institute of Bioscience at George Mason University, the University of Bradford, and the Laboratory of Biological Anthropology at the University of Copenhagen. The archaeological discovery and the interdisciplinary studies conducted on the Llullaillaco mummies and their offerings lent visibility to the needs of the indigenous communities in Argentina, motivating governmental authorities to recognize their rights, and inspiring society in general to become interested in their welfare. Consequently, in recent years, numerous communities have coalesced and formed in several Argentinean provinces, in the context of a strong and sustained native revival movement. In multicultural societies like that of northwest Argentina, whose social identity was traditionally anchored in 176 the Hispanic arrival and the gaucho culture, the Andean cultural heritage has become substantially more highly valued. Since the discovery of the Llullaillaco mummies, importance has begun to be placed on the study of the Inca civilization, both in Salta and in other parts of Argentina, as part of the basic content of the school curriculum. There has also been an increase in interest, on the part of the general public, in studying the Quechua language and pre-Columbian cultures. The Llullaillaco mummies and offerings are among the exceptional evidences of Inca ceremonies of Capacocha that survived destruction caused by looting and treasure hunting, having been opportunely rescued in the context of scientific archaeological fieldwork conducted at elevations higher than 6700 meters above sea level. In this paper I have described and analyzed the social use and symbolic meaning of the miniature figurines, pottery items, textiles, ornaments, and food supplies that were buried in direct association with the Llullaillaco mummies. The offering assemblages buried by the Incas on the highest summit shrines contributed to the legitimization of the state cult of the Sun deity, Inti, as well as helped to reinforce the local worship of sacred mountains. Acknowledgments I am grateful for the institutional support of the National Council of Scientific Research in Argentina (CONICET), the Catholic University of Salta, and the National Geographic Society. I also express my thanks to Johan Reinhard, Carlos Previgliano, Facundo Arias Aráoz, Josefina González Díez, Andrew Wilson, Timothy Taylor, Chiara Villa, Emma Brown, Tom Gilbert, Larry Cartmell, Keith McKenney; Arnaldo Arroyo, Gerardo Vides Almonacid, Bob Brier, Arthur Aufderheide, Rubén Gurevech, Niels Lynnerup, Keith McKenney, Gael Lonergan, Angelique Corthals, Andrew Merriwether, Ian Farrington, Clara Abal, Vuka Roussakis, Craig Morris, Juan Schobinger, Thomas Besom, Tamara Bray, and Sumru Aricanli. Constanza Ceruti Inca Offerings Associated with the Frozen Mummies from Mount Llullaillaco 177 R efer en c es C i t ed U n p u b l i sh ed d o c u men t s Cartmell, Larry (2001), Hair Analysis of the Mummies of Mt. 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Linares Malaga, Eloy (1968), Sacrificios humanos en el antiguo Perú , in Revista de la Facultad de Educación 2 (Universidad de San Agustín. Arequipa), pp. 109-139. Ramos Gavilán, Alonso ([1621] 1976), Historia de Nuestra Señora de Copacabana , La Paz: Editorial Universo. Manzo, Alberto and María Gabriela Raviña (1996), Augustukuy. Rito de multiplicación de los rebaños, ceremonias rurales y su articulación con el registro arqueológico , in: Publicaciónes de Arqueología 48 (Córdoba, Randall, Robert (1992), Los dos vasos. Cosmovisión y política de la embriaguez desde el inkanato hasta la colonia , in: Borrachera y memoria. La experiencia de lo sagrado en los Andes, Thierry Saignes (ed.), La Paz: Hisbol. Reinhard, Johan (1985), Sacred Mountains: An Ethno-archaeological Study of High Andean Ruins , in: Mountain Research and Development 5(4), pp. 299-317. (1996), Peru’s Ice Maidens , in: National Geographic Magazine 189(6), pp. 62-81. Reinhard, Johan and Constanza Ceruti (2000), Investigaciones arqueológicas en el volcán Llullaillaco. Complejo ceremonial incaico de alta montaña , Salta, Argentina: Editorial de la Universidad Católica de Salta. ([2005] 2006), Sacred Mountains, Ceremonial Sites and Human Sacrifice among the Incas , in: Archeoastronomy 19, pp. 1-43. (2010), Inca Rituals and Sacred Mountains. A Study of the World´s Highest Archaeological Sites , Los Angeles, CA: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology, UCLA. Rosing, Ina (1996), Rituales para llamar la lluvia. Rituales colectivos de la región Kallawaya en los Andes bolivianos , La Paz: Editorial Los Amigos del Libro. Rowe, John Howland (1979), Standardization in Inca Tapestry Tunics , in: The Junius Bird Precolumbian Textile Conference, Anne Pollard Rowe, Elizabeth P. Benson, and Anne-Louise Schaffer (eds.), Washington, D.C.: The Textile Museum, pp. 239-264. Constanza Ceruti Sarmiento de Gamboa, Pedro ([1572] 1999) History of the Incas , Mineola, NY: Dover Publications. Schobinger, Juan (1966), La momia del Cerro El Toro. Investigaciones arqueológicas en la cordillera de la Provincia de San Juan , in: Anales de Arqueología y Etnología, Supplement to Vol. 21, Mendoza, Argentina: Universidad Nacional de Cuyo. (2001), El santuario incaico del cerro Aconcagua , Mendoza, Argentina: Editorial de la Universidad Nacional de Cuyo. Taylor, Gerald (1999), Ritos y tradiciones de Huarochiri , Lima: Instituto Francés de Estudios Andinos. Wilson, Andrew, Timothy Taylor, María Constanza Ceruti, José Antonio Chávez, Johan Reinhard, Vaughan Grimes, Wolfram MeierAugenstein, Larry Cartmell, Ben Stern, Michael Richards, Michael Worobey, Ian Barnes, and Thomas Gilbert (2007), Stable Isotope and DNA Evidence for Ritual Sequences in Inca Child Sacrifice , in: PNAS (Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the USA) 104(42), pp. 16456-16461. Wilson, Andrew, Emma Brown, Chiara Villa, Niels Lynnerup, Andrew Healey, María Constanza Ceruti, Johan Reinhard, Carlos Previgliano, Facundo Arias Aráoz, Josefina Inca Offerings Associated with the Frozen Mummies from Mount Llullaillaco González Diez, and Timothy Taylor (2013), Archaeological, Radiological and Biological Evidence Offer Insight into Inca Child Sacrifice , in: PNAS (Proceedings of the National Academy of Science) 110(33), pp. 13322-13327. 179 180 S T E V E KO S I B A T R A C I N G T H E I N C A PA S T. RITUAL MOVEMENT AND SOCIAL MEMORY I N T H E I N C A I M P E R I A L C A P I TA L Steve Kosiba Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital. 181 Introduction Andean myths tell of how the Incas made the world anew when they first walked a path to Cusco, a valley destined to become the center of their empire. The myths state that these ancestors of the Incas left their homeland behind and wandered across high plains and craggy peaks until they came to Huanacauri, a mountain that towered above Cusco. Figure 1 Huanacauri, an Inca huaca and ritual center situated on a high mountain above the city of Cusco. (Photograph by the author). 182 Their gaze falling on Cusco for the first time, the ancestors began to perform the acts that would make them Incas. One of the ancestors perceived disorder among the hills and ravines of Cusco, and then quickly corrected this problem by using his great sling to flatten mountains, create gorges, and redirect rivers. These feats demonstrated his inherent power to shape the land, but led his siblings to fear his arrogance and seal him in a cave. Another ancestor joined his flesh to a sacred stone (huaca) and became Huanacauri, a principal Inca god and a “place-person” (sensu Mannheim and Salas 2015) that embodied the Incas’ ancestral power to shape the earth and its people. Following these superhuman acts, the ancestors rested at a place called Matagua, where they invented the rites that would define their religion and their people. Then they descended to Cusco itself, where one of them assaulted the valley’s “savage” inhabitants, disemboweling them and forcing them to show obeisance. In these actions, it was said, the ancestors laid the foundations of a city and an empire. They defined what it meant to be Inca. 1 Similar to the boasts of other expansionary states, these Inca myths claim the world was a province of “savages” before the Incas wielded their divine power to forge “civilization.” The Incas kept no written documents, but Inca elites were keen to tell Spanish scribes these stories about how their ancestors shaped the cultural practices and social landscape of Cusco (Betanzos [1551] 1968, p. 13; Cabello de Balboa [1586] 1951, p. 294; Molina [1573] 1947, p. 129; see also Kosiba 2010; Salles-Reese 1997). During the Inca reign, these narratives of the past were transmitted in theatrical ceremonies and manifested in austere facades of Inca imperial architecture. In ceremonies such as Capac Raymi–Cusco’s most solemn festival–young boys reenacted the Inca origin myths as they walked pathways to the huacas where Cusco was born, such as Huanacauri (Yaya 2008, 2012; see also Bauer 1996). Throughout Cusco, Inca monuments and shrines were built directly atop massive boulders and striking natural features, making it seem as though Inca power was primordial–that it inaugurated a new age as it sprouted from the earth (Dean 2010; Kosiba 2015). Many anthropologists and historians have argued that, in creating Cusco, the Incas assembled a “sacred landscape” of monuments and ritual pathways that embodied their myths (e.g., Julien 2012) or encoded their social principles (e.g., Zuidema 1990) but they often neglect to consider how Cusco, which certainly embodied pre-Inca cultural values, became Inca. 1 The Spanish chroniclers recorded diferent versions of this foundation myth. The various versions likely re ect political wrangling in the early Colonial period, when Cusco’s people struggled to bolster their social position by claiming the places that had once constituted Inca authority (see Urton 1990). They disagree on which ancestor Inca is entombed in the cave and which one becomes Huanacauri (compare, for instance, Betanzos [{1551} 1968], pp. 1213 and Sarmiento [{1572} 1965], p. 215) with Cabello de Balboa ([1586] 1951, pp. 261263), Molina ([1573] 1947, pp. 21, 137), and Murúa ([1590] 1962, p. 23). However, several of these historical sources state that the ancestor Inca joined with a preexisting huaca named Chimpo and Cahua of the “Sañu” or “Sano” (see especially Murúa [{1590} 1962], p. 23). In all variations, though, an Inca ancestor reshapes Cusco with his sling; an ancestor becomes Huanacauri; the ancestors pause at a place called Matagua; and then, inally, the ancestor Mama Huaco violently assaults the people of Guallas and then plants the irst maize. There are also alternative claims to Huanacauri. The Alcaviza ethnic group, a group repeatedly vanquished by the Incas in the myths, testiied to the Spanish that Huanacauri was in fact their ancestor, and the Incas appropriated this mountain and this huaca (Duviols 1997). Steve Kosiba Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital. 183 In this paper, I present recent archaeological survey and excavation data to uncover the ritual practices through which the people of Cusco recognized their past and affirmed their social roles during Inca rule. In particular, I examine how the pathways of the Capac Raymi ceremony engendered a landscape replete with diverse and even contradictory social memories and perspectives on the past. I also uncover the ritual practices through which Cusco’s people recognized their past and affirmed their social roles during Inca rule. My principal argument is that the inhabitants of ancient Cusco came to know their past by engaging in rituals as they walked pathways that invoked both indigenous and Inca social memories. Taking this approach, the paper moves beyond top-down myths of Inca dominance to explore what I term “cultures of articulation”–the complicated ways that indigenous landscapes and memories may obstruct or become entangled with a state’s pretensions (see also Wernke 2013). Navigating Cusco Cusco was an extensive urban environment spread across a wide Andean valley. In building Cusco, the Incas assembled a network of ethnically discrete communities and terraced fields interconnected by agricultural task scheduling, a ritual calendar, and socioeconomic interdependence (Bauer 2004; Zuidema 1964, 1990). Hence, Cusco was less a concentrated city, such as the urban complexes of ancient Mesoamerica, and more an archipelago of settlements that were grafted onto the slopes that surrounded the city’s core. Architecture and settlement locations marked inner and outer areas of Cusco, while signifying differences between Incas, lower status Incas by privilege, and the commoners whom the Incas moved to the valley (Bauer 2004; Farrington 2013). To understand ancient Cusco, then, is to understand whether and how this urban environment created an appearance of spatial and temporal coherence–an Inca landscape. Archaeologists and art historians have long sought to understand Cusco’s social landscape by interpreting the meaning and aesthetic of Inca stone buildings and shrines. Inca shrines and palaces were abstract and colossal stone structures that did not bear legible iconography or epigraphy. Still, many archaeologists and historians seek to uncover the semiotic code in the cyclopean stones of Inca buildings and shrines, suggesting that the geometric aesthetic of these stones represented royal persons, reflected Inca cultural 184 principles, or communicated that Inca rule was “natural” (e.g., Acuto 2005; Dean 2010; van de Guchte 1999). In particular, researchers contend that the Incas constructed monumental architecture at their royal estates (e.g., Pisaq, Machu Picchu) in an attempt to memorialize their conquests and inaugurate an Inca epoch (Niles 1993, p. 163, 1999). Such research contends that, by raising august structures and carving gigantic stones throughout Cusco, the Incas clothed their imperial project in a general aesthetic that expressed an Inca claim to absolute authority and created a sense of shared history. Other anthropologists and historians argue that Cusco’s landscape organized the Inca realm by encoding Andean structural principles (e.g., Zuidema 1990, 2011). 2 This argument holds that the Incas established ritual pathways (ceques) and huacas in Cusco to create a calendar of the celestial cycles that structured and synchronized the agricultural tasks and ritual practices of dispersed communities (e.g. Zuidema 1977a, 1982). This theory holds that the ceques determined social relationships throughout the Cusco region and emplaced a social hierarchy centered on the city’s monumental core. R. Tom Zuidema, the principal advocate of this argument, contends that the ceque system was a centrally organized map of Inca society. He suggests that each ceque of Cusco corresponded to a social group within a tripartite hierarchical system (collana, payan, and cayao) that described the group’s social rank and designated the other group from which they might choose a marriage partner (Zuidema 1964; see also the reformulation of this view in Zuidema 1977b). This approach describes the places and sites that constituted Cusco as if they were abstract entries in a vast “computer” (Zuidema 2008), a catalog of knowledge that Inca elites and administrators organized and read from the center of Cusco. In focusing on aesthetics and ceque lines, the aforementioned models of Cusco concentrate on how the Incas organized their territory from the top-down and according to a general plan. In these views, the Incas conceptualized their landscape in a manner similar to a mental map, in which they understood the meaning and function of constituent places by referring to an overarching order of space (see Gell 1985 for a review of social maps). Similarly, Cusco’s history would have been understood in terms of an Inca ideology that, hewn in stone and drawn in ritual pathways, emphasized Inca actions and principles of order while eclipsing alternative visions of space, society, and history (e.g., Zuidema 2002). And, perhaps more importantly, these theories suggest that Inca subjects and elites of different social stations could understand the general semiotic order of the Inca capital. In consequence, these models imply that there was a single Inca semiotic 2 Several researchers have discussed how Cusco’s system of royal roads and ritual pathways (ceques) created an appearance of coherence throughout the Inca capital (Bauer 1998; MacCormack 1990; Niles 1987; Rowe 1980, 1985; Sherbondy 1992; Zuidema 1990). Here I summarize R. Tom Zuidema’s perspective on the ceques, a compelling perspective that has had considerable in uence in Andean studies (see critique, however, in Nowack 1998). Steve Kosiba Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital. 185 system carved into Cusco’s stones and a single Inca cosmological order written in Cusco’s ceque lines. While these models certainly do well to reveal the organizational structure of Cusco as an Inca ruler might have seen it, they also obscure our vision of politics in ancient Cusco because, by and large, they only show an Inca elite’s perspective on landscape and history. We are left to wonder how Cusco’s people perceived their past during Inca rule, how indigenous cultural principles and social memories changed as they were incorporated into Inca Cusco, and how pre-Inca social memories influenced or constrained Inca visions of Cusco’s landscape. I suggest that we alter our perspective of Inca Cusco by focusing less on the semiotic structures of its monuments and pathways, and more on the ways that Andean people moved throughout the city and learned its history. Recent studies provide insights into how Andean people engaged with Inca monuments and pathways over time. Brian Bauer’s (1998) systematic archaeological and ethnohistorical survey suggests that the ceque lines were a dynamic ritual system that, at different times, undergirded different versions of Inca history. Given these findings, we might consider how Andean people invoked visions of the past as they engaged with Cusco’s landscape. For instance, Zachary Chase’s (2015) recent archaeological research in the Andean province of Huarochiri reveals how towns and huacas in this region were key stages for performative rites in which claims to a “deep mythic history” became manifest. Likewise, Abercrombie’s (1998) ethnography in the contemporary Andes describes how people mapped their social environment and kin relationships, less in terms of abstract structures and more in terms of oppositions between towns and hamlets. These insights suggest that, in ancient Cusco, knowledge of the past was likely transmitted through particular places. Indeed, places directed perception and spatial orientation, rather than mental maps. A place-centered spatial orientation is consistent with both historical and contemporary Quechua reckonings of personhood, which understand a person through his/her relationships to human persons, non-human persons, and objects in the environment. In this spatial orientation, a person is not primarily defined as a particular kind of being through reference to family name or social position, as is often the case in Western or Judeo-Christian societies. A Quechua person is of a particular place; his or her body shares an ontological bond with the land (Kosiba 2015; Mannheim and Salas 2015). Furthermore, Bruce Mannheim has recently demonstrated (personal communication February 2015) that Quechua speakers take on a spatial orientation that is radically different from the 186 spatial orientation assumed by a mental or abstract map. That is, Mannheim argues that Quechua speakers employ an allocentric (object-to-object) spatial orientation in which they come to know information about one object by coming to know the location of that object, or its constituent parts, relative to other objects (see Klatzky 1998 on allocentric and egocentric representation). In an allocentric spatial orientation, the location or character of an object is by necessity defined relative to other objects, in a sequence or a cluster. This kind of spatial orientation contrasts with egocentric (self-to-object) forms of spatial navigation and representation, which represent the location of objects relative to the body of the observer and the body’s phenomenological perspectives of right-left, up-down, and front-back (e.g., Klatzky 1998; Kozhevnikov and Hegarty 2001). Building on these insights into Quechua spatial orientation, I reconstruct how the Incas came to know their city’s environment and past by moving along its pathways, from the very heart of the city to its borders. I suggest that pathways created knowledge about the landscape and its history consistent with an allocentric spatial orientation–that is, they established sequences of places and objects, and in so doing, afforded particular perspectives on the environment and the past. Data are derived from two projects that I directed: the Wat’a Archaeological Project (2005-2009) and the Huanacauri Archaeological Project (2014-present). Several reports from the Peruvian Ministry of Culture were invaluable to this analysis (especially Amado 2003 and Catalán Santos and Mantúfar Latorre 2007). Capac Raymi. Pathways through the Past The pathways of the Capac Raymi ceremony offer a close perspective on how Cusco’s people (Cusqueños) perceived their city during the height of Inca rule. Capac Raymi was one of Cusco’s most important ceremonies. There are several excellent ethnohistorical studies of Capac Raymi (e.g., Yaya 2008, 2012; Zuidema 1992). Here, I complement these accounts with an archaeological perspective on the pathways and places that were essential to the ceremony. During Capac Raymi, Cusqueño boys 3 between 12-15 years old became members of the elite when they participated in processions during which they received materials that would define their status: arms (e.g., guaraca, a sling), a breechcloth (guara), and earspools (Molina [1573] 1947, pp. 102, 105; Polo de Ondegardo [1571] 1916, p. 18). The processions were a series of treks from Cusco’s main plaza of There is con icting evidence about who participated in the ceremony, though it is clear that they were people from Cusco who were descendants or relatives of the Inca (Cobo [1653] 1964, p. 207; Molina [1573] 1947, p. 102; Polo de Ondegardo [1571] 1916, p.18). Molina ([1573] 1947, p. 86) ofers insights into the participants when he joins together Inca and indigenous Cusco ethnic groups in the “Prayer for All the Incas” that he recorded, a prayer spoken during the ceremony of Situa: “¡GOh Sol!, padre mio, que dijiste haya cuzcos y tambos; sean vencedores y despojadores estos tus hijos de todas las gentes; adorate para que sean dichosos si semos estos incas tus hijos y no sean vencidos ni despojados, sino siempre sean vencedores, pues para esto los hiciste” (italics mine). [“Oh Sun! My father, who said, ‘let there be Cusqueños and people from Tambo’; let these, your sons, be victors and despoilers of all peoples; you are worshiped so that Incas may be fortunate if they are your sons, and are not conquered nor despoiled, but, instead are always victors, because you made them for this” (translation by the editors).] 3 Similar to Capac Raymi, all foreigners were required to leave the city during Situa. But the prayer clearly states that the blessed should include “Cuzcos” and “Tambos”–the former likely referring to nobility in Cusco and the latter to ethnic groups near the Inca origin place of Paqaritambo (see note by Bauer in Molina [1573] 2011, p. 108). Moreover, Bauer also notes that, in Ramos Gavilán’s account ([1621] 1967, pp.145-147) of an initiation ceremony near Copacabana, the ceremony was a means for choosing and making nobles. That is, the Inca would choose those who participated in the ceremony, and then elevate the status of those participants who were most successful, especially the initiates who performed well in the foot race. The weak participants were not promoted to a higher status or social position. The initiation ceremony that Ramos Gavilan witnessed was most likely a replication of the ceremony in Cusco. We might thus conclude that the participants in the ceremony were from recognized families, whether they were pure Inca or not, and they were promoted to high social positions based on their performance in the ceremony. Steve Kosiba Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital. 187 Figure 2 This map depicts the major destinations of the Capac Raymi ceremony, a series of processions from the Aukaypata and Korikancha in the center of Cusco to important huacas. (Map by the author). Aukaypata to major huacas. In one of the first processions, the boys dressed as their ancestors and reenacted the mythic journey to Cusco from Huanacauri. By tracing this route to Huanacauri, and comparing it to the other processions in the ceremony, we can begin to understand how Cusqueños perceived their past. Spanish historical sources focus on the ways that Capac Raymi marked status distinctions of inner and outer Cusco–that is, distinctions between the inner Inca elites and outer ethnic groups (see Yaya 2012). Capac Raymi was a ceremony of Cusqueños, and for Cusqueños. During the first days of Capac Raymi, outsiders left the city, while the Inca initiates drank with their mummified ancestors and received the Inca’s blessing (Cobo [1653] 1964, pp. 208-209; Molina [1573] 1947, p. 96). Then these initiates departed for Huanacauri in a procession led by priests (tarpuntaes) and a white llama 188 that was said to have descended from the first animals that survived “the flood” (Cobo [1653] 1964, p. 208)–a term that was a Spanish gloss for an Andean statement about the mythic past. These first days not only defined differences between inner and outer Cusco, but also restricted access to the past: only the select Cusqueños would have seen and known the ancestors, Inca, and llamas that consecrated this journey to this journey into a living past. Figure 3 This map illustrates the major Inca roads from the center of Cusco to the area near the huaca at Huanacauri. The procession road that was used during Capac Raymi (dark red) passed near or through several important pre-Inca ruins (orange). (Map by the author). The locations of the roads were in part derived from Amado (2006) and Catalán Santos and Mantúfar Latorre (2007). Steve Kosiba Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital. 189 Recent archaeological research greatly adds to the information from the historical sources, largely because the Spanish, in their accounts, did not record the places that the initiates encountered on their journey to Huanacauri. But, in an allocentric spatial orientation, these places, and the relationships between them, would have been essential to understanding Cusco’s landscape and history. Archaeological research has revealed the trajectory of the road to Huanacauri and nearby sites (Amado 2003, p. 43; Bauer 1991, 1998; Catalán Santos and Mantúfar Latorre 2007, p. 131) 4. In 2014, I conducted an archaeological survey of the road and its immediate surroundings, by documenting all architectural features and associated surface-level archaeological materials within approximately 100 meters of the road. These data complement the historical accounts. Indeed, the survey shows that the road reiterated the inner and outer social boundaries of Cusco. For instance, the initiates embarked on their journey by following a path to Pumachupan, the site where the Tullumayu and Saphi Rivers meet. Early historical accounts recognize this point as the “remate de la ciudad” (Betanzos [1551] 1968, p. 37), a boundary defined by the rivers that separated the core of the city from surrounding fields and communities. 4 There are three ancient roads near Huanacauri. One of these roads is the road to Cuntisuyu. It climbs through the narrow gorge between the mountains Anahuarque and Huanacauri, and then crosses a high pass as it continues toward the towns of Pumacancha and Paruro and the lands of the Chisques y Mascas ethnic groups. There is another road, on the slopes of Huanacauri, which appears to be the ritual procession route because it bears formal architecture such as retaining walls and it adjoins many huacas of the ceque system (Bauer 1998). Finally, there is a path that ascends to the southeast side and high puna of Huanacauri Mountain from the area of Sucsu ayllu near the town of San Jerónimo. But my research also provides a different perspective than the historical accounts, revealing that the road invoked a vision of the past that is not contained in the myths. The data demonstrate that the procession, after leaving the inner city, passed through some of Cusco’s largest and most striking pre-Inca archaeological sites. First, the road crossed the site of Membilla (now the neighborhood and archaeological site called Wimpillay), which was occupied for thousands of years before the Incas (Barreda Murillo 1973, 1991; Bauer 2004). Membilla, quite literally, housed the early Inca past. In 1559, the Spanish administrator Polo de Ondegardo remarked that he found the mummies and idols of the first Inca rulers–of Hurin Cusco–at Membilla (Cobo [1653] 1964, p. 66-69; Polo de Ondegardo [1571] 1916, p. 30). Second, the road passes Muyu Urqu, which was a regional ceremonial center during the Qotakalli Period (ca. 200-600 CE) and Middle Horizon (ca. 600-1000 CE) (Barreda Murillo 1982; Zapata Rodríguez 1998). Third, the road intersected Tankarpata, a long-occupied Qotakalli and Middle Horizon village (Bauer 2004:49; Bauer and Jones 2003), and then passed through the Inca town of Qotakalli, which includes, and was surrounded by, several large pre-Inca, Qotakalli Period villages (Bauer 2004). Finally, the road crossed Pukakancha, a Middle Horizon (Araway) (ca. 6001000 CE) burial ground (Bauer 2004, pp. 48-49; Bauer and Jones 2003; Catalán Santos and Mantúfar Latorre 2007). 190 It appears as though the road was intentionally built to pass through these sites. Using Geographic Information Systems (GIS), I conducted a “least cost path analysis,” which demonstrates that the Inca road significantly veered from what would have been the most efficient ascent from the center of Cusco to Huanacauri. The “least cost path” would have directed the initiates farther down the valley, near the town of San Jerónimo, before they ascended Huanacauri. The Inca road, however, passes the important pre-Inca sites mentioned above and also maintains, more or less, the direction of the line of sight from the center of Cusco to Huanacauri. The position of this road thus suggests three different possibilities: the road drew on the meanings and attendant practices of these past places; the road itself predated the Inca state; or the road followed a more or less direct visual path to Huanacauri. Recent archaeological excavations in the road itself did not uncover any evidence that the road was constructed before the Incas, evidence such as archaeological materials or structures from the Qotakalli Period or Middle Horizon (Catalán Santos and Mantúfar Latorre 2007). In fact, the excavations uncovered Inca artifacts from the road bed and nearby platforms, suggesting that the Incas built the road. It is difficult to evaluate whether the road was intentionally constructed to follow a direct visual path from Cusco’s center to Huanacauri, but it is important to note that this line of sight was probably significant to the procession. Initiates may have envisioned this straight line of sight even as they traveled a circuitous path. This line of sight would have directed the initiates’ perception toward Huanacauri, concentrating their attention on their journey into the mythic past. The ethnohistorical and archaeological data strongly suggest that the road was built to draw on the meanings of the pre-Inca sites. The remains of the pre-Inca sites–the architecture, artifacts, and terraces that we can now see–would have also been visible to the Inca initiates. Of course, the initiates likely did not associate these artifacts with discrete cultural time periods such as Qotakalli and the Middle Horizon, but they were surely able to recognize that these were abandoned villages and ruined buildings containing non-Inca pottery, architecture, and agricultural terraces–“civilized” places which could not simply have been places of mythic “savages” who practiced neither town planning nor agriculture. Moreover, it is clear that the Incas recognized many of these pre-Inca sites as sacred places. Most of these pre-Inca sites were huacas within the Collasuyu quarter of the Inca ceque system, and were places of religious practices and offerings during Inca times. Several Spanish chroniclers state that the cult, Chima-panaqa, hosted ceremonies for the mummies at Membilla (Cobo [1653] 1964, pp. 66, 180; Polo de Ondegardo [1571] Steve Kosiba Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital. 191 1916, p. 30). Here, a huaca named Acoyguaci (Collasuyu ceque 6, wak’a 3) guarded the mummy of Sinchi Roca, the mythic Inca ruler born on the slopes of Huanacauri (Cobo [1653] 1964, pp. 65, 181). Similarly, Muyu Urqu was a huaca called Tampuvilca (Collasuyu ceque 9, wak’a 5) that received offerings of burned coca leaves (ibid., p. 182). Qotakalli likely housed the huaca called Catacalla (Collasuyu ceque 7, wak’a 2), one of the boulders (pururauca) that came to life in defense of Cusco, which would have received offerings (Bauer 1998, pp. 106-110; cf. Rowe 1980, pp. 11-12). Finally, classic Inca architecture and pottery at Pukakancha and Tankarpata demonstrate that these sites were continuously used or revered during Inca times. In general, the positions of these sites suggest that, by walking this road, the Cusqueños traveled through a series of places that, taken together, invoked memories of the past. The survey also reveals how the initiates walked this path, recognized past places, and entered ritual spaces. Architectural attributes of the road called attention to pre-Inca sites and land features by influencing the initiates’ bodily dispositions and movements. For instance, after passing through Pukakancha, the road widened and became a staircase that led the initiates to a broad stone platform called Paqopallana which overlooked Qotakalli, Muyu Urqu, and Membilla. This wider section of the road would have ushered the initiates into a mass ceremony on the platform. After Paqopallana, the road narrowed considerably to about two meters in width as it traversed some of the steeper slopes on the route to Huanacauri. This narrow segment led to a small platform at the base of a peak called Inca Damian. Recent Peruvian Ministry of Culture excavations at Inca Damian uncovered canals embedded within the platform, suggesting a drainage system to receive offerings and/or protect the road (Catalán Santos and Mantúfar Latorre 2007). The wide road and broad platform at Paqopallana suggest a space for taqui ceremonies, in which dances and songs celebrated stories about the past, mythic heroes, and deities. The narrow road, however, would have required the initiates to walk in a single-file line, and then individually enter the platform at Inca Damian, suggesting a ritual in which the initiates gave a blessing (mochar) to a land feature. Similarly, the survey data demonstrate how the road directed the initiates’ entry into mythic space or past space. The road narrowed to about 1.5 meters right before the initiates arrived at another semi-circular platform, at the entry point to the site of Matagua. As mentioned above, Spanish sources state that Matagua was where the ancestor Incas rested before they descended to Cusco (Betanzos [1551] 1968, p. 13; Cobo [1653] 1964, p. 65; 192 Figure 4 Two perspectives of the road to Huanacauri. The photograph above reveals the linear (visual and spatial) relationship between pre-Inca sites and the road. The photograph below illustrates the narrow pathway that ascends to the mythic Inca sites of Matagua and Huanacauri, (Photographs by the author). Steve Kosiba Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital. 193 Sarmiento [1572] 1965, pp. 216-217). The historical sources suggest that Matagua was where the Incas invented their rites of passage, including Guarachico (ear piercing), Rutuchico (hair cutting), Quicochico (first menstruation), and Awscay (ceremony of the new born) (Betanzos [1551] 1968, p. 65; Cabello de Balboa [1586] 1951, p. 263; Murúa [1590] 1962-64, pp. 23, 26; Sarmiento [1572] 1965, pp. 216), but particular sources also suggest that the Inca initiates would have recognized Matagua as place from the mythic past or a ruin from a past people. Indeed, Cobo ([1653] 1964, p. 181) suggests that Matagua was a ruin during Inca times, describing Matoro (a probable name for Matagua) 5 as: “... una ladera cerca de Guanacauri, donde habia unos edificios antiguos, que cuentan fue la primera jornada donde durmieron los que salieron de Guanacauri despues del Diluvio”. The evidence from the road survey suggests that the narrow section and small platform altered the initiates’ dispositions, focusing their attention on a ruin that they must have perceived as the mythic site of Matagua. Recent excavations by the Peruvian Ministry of Culture suggest that Matagua was not occupied during the height of Inca rule. Matagua contains several small circular and D-shaped houses that correspond to the Killk’e Period in Cusco, a period that predates the classic Inca artifact and architectural styles. Cusqueños produced Killk’e pottery for centuries, but this pottery style is thought to correspond to the initial process of Inca state consolidation when it is found in excavation contexts without many cultural materials from other time periods (on Killk’e, see Bauer 1992, 1999, 2004; Gonzáles Corrales 1984). Among the decorated pottery at Matagua (1928 fragments; 5.4 percent of total pottery recovered), the excavations recovered a very high density (1902 fragments; 98.6 percent of what was recovered) of Killk’e pottery, but very few classic Inca sherds (16 or 0.008 percent) (Catalán Santos and Mantúfar Latorre 2007, p. 723). In particular, there were many Killk’e serving vessels–especially ollas with conical bases, bowls, and high-handled jars with face effigies (ibid., p. 734). Overall, these data indicate that the site was largely occupied during the Killk’e Period. The high densities of serving vessels suggest that Matagua was a place for ceremonial feasting during the Killk’e Period. Matagua, then, was a site that the Incas recognized as a ritual place, and integrated into the road system. 5 “... A hillside near Guanacauri, where there were some old buildings, that they say was where those who left Guanacauri after the Flood slept at the end of irst day” (translation by the editors). The Spanish historical sources provide information about the Inca rites that occurred at Matagua and Huanacauri. They tell us that, after spending a night at Matagua, the initiates ascended to the shrine of Huanacauri. The priests who accompanied the initiates took a bit of wool from each llama and blew on it to make an offering to the mountain 194 (Molina [1573] 1947, p. 99). Some of these llamas were sacrificed (Cobo [1653] 1964, p. 209; Molina [1573] 1947, p. 99). Then, the initiates received guaracas in a quebrada called Quirasmanta. Here, the attendants whipped the initiates’ legs, and then the initiates sang a guari (or huaylli), which was a song that the ancestors were said to have created for this ceremony (Cobo [1653] 1964, p, 210; Molina 1947 [1573], p. 100; see Yaya 2012, p. 117). My recent archaeological survey and excavations at Huanacauri revealed additional details of the road and the site. The architecture of the road and the site emphasizes individual experience. As the initiates approached Huanacauri, the road passed to the south side of the mountain, where the initiates lost sight of the Cusco Valley and, for the first time, saw the lands from where the Incas said they had emerged. After the road sharply veered to Figure 5 Aerial photograph and photogrammetry mosaic of the plaza (Sector A) at Huanacauri. (Photograph by the author). Steve Kosiba Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital. 195 the east, the initiates saw the shrine complex of Huanacauri surrounded by the glaciated mountain peaks of the Cusco region. From this point, they entered a private and exclusive space–a plaza flanked by structures that obstructed their vision of the surroundings. This, however, was not the end of the journey. My archaeological research at Huanacauri revealed another shrine in a small ravine on the other side of the mountain peak. This sector features a large zigzag (chakana) shaped wall, a symbol of power found at many prestigious Andean sites. The wall surrounds an immense jagged sandstone boulder, suggesting that this was a huaca. Figure 6 Aerial photograph and photogrammetry mosaic of the wall and huaca (Sector B) at Huanacauri. (Photograph by the author). 196 The architecture at Huanacauri indicates that the initiates participated in a ceremony in the site’s plaza and then left offerings to the sandstone boulder. In 2014, I directed intensive excavations within both sectors of Huanacauri, uncovering a total of 192 square meters of this sacred Inca site. My analysis of the excavated materials is still in progress. However, the preliminary analyses definitively show that there was not a pre-Inca site at Huanacauri. There were no pre-Inca or Killk’e occupation levels and only an insignificant amount of Killk’e cultural materials. Indeed, among the diagnostic pottery recovered throughout the excavations at Huanacauri (3234 fragments), there was a very high density of classic Inca ceramic sherds (3101; 95.9 percent), but only a few fragments of Killk’e pottery (90; 2.8 percent) or non-Inca, non-Killk’e, pottery (43; 1.3 percent). These data strongly suggest that the Incas constructed Huanacauri after the process of state consolidation, though radiocarbon dates will clarify the construction sequence and occupational history of the site. The excavations in the plaza complex and the huaca revealed two distinct ritual spaces. Excavations in the plaza complex on the east side of the mountain uncovered multiple large pottery vessels (aríbalo, urpu) broken in situ near concentrations of ash and maize kernels, suggesting an area for maize beer (chicha) production and ceremonial food consumption. The excavations in the huaca complex on the west side of the mountain recovered few artifacts, suggesting that the Incas regularly cleaned this space after conducting rituals. Within the artifact assemblage from this sector, however, there were many small Inca plates, suggesting that offerings were made to this stone. The architecture of this sector indicates that these offerings were made in private and individualized rituals. The spatial organization of the huaca–with a single doorway on either side of the zig-zag wall–suggests the initiates entered the space individually and then proceeded to cross the rock, in a procession, to the other doorway. Here, they did not encounter an ancient site. Rather, they participated in an intimate ritual in which they faced a living rock that embodied one of their mythic ancestors. These preliminary archaeological details suggest the pathway to Huanacauri offered a perspective on Cusco’s past as it meandered through pre-Inca and mythic sites, and then culminated at the ritual spaces of the Inca principal huaca. Similarly, the other pathways of Capac Raymi journeyed to major Cusco huacas, all of which provided access to mythic places and persons, or places that embodied indigenous communities (Yaya 2012). After Huanacauri, the procession returned to Cusco to perform a taqui, Steve Kosiba Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital. 197 and then visited Anahuarque (Collasuyu ceque 1, wak’a 7), an important huaca atop a mountain that neighbored Huanacauri, which was said to have run very swiftly during “the Flood” (Cobo [1653] 1964, p. 210). 6 Here, the initiates offered sacrifices, performed a guari, and received arms (Molina [1573] 1947, pp. 105-107). Then, they performed the role of Anahuarque as they swiftly ran from the huaca to a hill above Cusco (Tito Cussi Yupanqui [1570] 1988, pp. 33-36). Anahuarque was the principal huaca of the preInca Cachona and Chocco ethnic groups who allied with the early Incas (Molina [1573] 1947, p. 105; see also Bauer 1998, p. 120; Yaya 2008, 2012). 7 My archaeological reconnaissance atop the mountain of Anahuarque found the remains of rectangular structures, an extensive flat area, and classic Inca pottery (compare with Bauer 1998, p. 120), suggesting that this area was flattened and used for a broad ceremony or taqui during Inca times. There were not any fragments of Killk’e or pre-Inca pottery at Anahuarque, and no apparent structures from time periods before the Incas. Hence, similar to Huanacauri, the discovery of only classic Inca materials at the site suggests that Anahuarque became a huaca during Inca times (see below). 6 According to an account of Inca initiation from outside of Cusco, the foot race was especially important because the successful boys were promoted to higher ranks (Ramos Gavilán [1621] 1967, pp. 145-147, quoted in Molina [1573] 2011, pp. 111-112). The weak boys were chastised and not promoted. The Anahuarque race thus illustrates that nobility and social rank in the Inca empire were not given; they were earned. 7 Bauer (1998, p. 120) notes that 16th century documents from this area of Cusco indicate that the people of Chocco descended from Anahuarque. After Anahuarque, the procession visited other huacas of Cusco’s non-Inca past and indigenous communities (see Yaya 2012, pp. 117-119 for a more detailed account). Following their foot race from Anahuarque, the initiates returned to Cusco to make sacrifices and sing a guari in Aukaypata. Then, after sleeping at a place called Wamankancha, they walked the road to Yavira (Chinchaysuyu ceque 9, wak’a 6), a huaca situated upon Picchu mountain, located on the north side of the Cusco Valley (Betanzos [1551] 1968, p. 42; Cobo [1653] 1964, p. 211; Molina [1573] 1947, p. 109; Sarmiento [1572] 1965, p. 237). Yavira was an important huaca for Cusco’s indigenous people (also called Apuyavira; Bauer 1998, p. 70). It was said to be a person who lived at the same time as the ancestor Incas and, like Huanacauri, turned to stone (Cobo [1653] 1964, p. 174). Yavira was also said to be the principal huaca of the Maras ethnic group (Molina [1573] 1947, p. 111). Here, the initiates conducted sacrifices and received the materials that marked their status, such as breechcloths, earplugs, feather diadems (pilco cassa), and medallions (ibid.). After receiving these items, they performed a taqui (ibid., p. 112). Bauer (1998, p. 71) suggests that Yavira (or Apuyavira) was a large stone on the slopes of Picchu, called Ñusta and now said to be the sister of the Inca ancestor Manco Capac. Similar to Anahuarque, Yavira was a huaca recognized as indigenous that was, by way of rites and movement, integrated into Cusco’s most solemn ceremony. 198 After visiting Yavira, the initiates returned to Aukaypata to make more sacrifices, perform taquis, bathe in a spring, and finally, have their ears pierced in chacaras near Cusco (Molina [1573] 1947, pp. 115-116). At the end of the ceremony, the foreigners were invited back to the center of the city to eat maize cakes soaked in the blood of the sacrifices from the huacas along the route (Cobo [1653] 1964, p. 211). These final rites continued to mark differences between inner and outer Cusco. The cyclical return to the Aukaypata reiterated the role of the plaza as a center that connected the disparate huacas of the broader landscape. More particularly, by inviting the outsiders back into the city, the Cusqueños confirmed a historical sequence–Inca state consolidation and then imperial extension– and mapped this historical sequence onto social differences between inner Cusco (those who participated in state consolidation) and the outer provinces (those whom the Incas subjugated). Only the Cusqueño people and places participated in the ceremony itself. Capac Raymi was thus an exclusionary rite that reiterated the phase of early Inca political development, a phase during which Cusco’s ethnic groups joined to forge the nascent Inca state. The outsiders, then, symbolically received benefits from this core group of Cusqueños, who offered them consecrated foods, just as the Incas offered the stores of the state to the people whom they subjugated (cf. Ramírez 2005). The roads of Capac Raymi were therefore designed as entryways to this past. Ancestral or indigenous huacas were not common in Cusco’s ceque system, suggesting that the Incas intentionally positioned the pathways of Capac Raymi to visit these huacas. There were a total of sixty-six huacas (20.1 percent) in the ceque system that invoked Cusco’s past. They embodied the actions of a named non-human person (e.g., Huanacauri, pururauca) (25 or 7.6 percent), a named Inca person (e.g., Inca Yupanqui) (35 or 10.7 percent), or a general Inca person (e.g., “place where the Inca sat”) (6 or 1.8 percent). Only fourteen of these huacas were in the Collasuyu sector of Cusco, where the road to Huanacauri was situated, and many of these were located along the road to Huanacauri. Moreover, there were few Cusco huacas that invoked Cusco’s indigenous past. Throughout Cusco, there were fourteen (4.3 percent) huacas that explicitly or implicitly embodied the indigenous past. Explicit huacas included such places as Cinca (Chinchaysuyu ceque 5, wak’a 9), which was said to be the place where the Ayarmaca emerged, or places such as Vicaribi (Chinchaysuyu ceque 9, wak’a 5), which was the tomb of the leader of the Maras people (Cobo [1653] 1964, pp. 172, 174). Furthermore, implicit indigenous huacas were often listed as “adoratorios antiguos” or tombs of “local lords” (e.g., ibid. p. 178, 182), but these huacas were not common. Further research will be necessary to determine whether these Steve Kosiba Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital. 199 huacas were in reality “indigenous,” that is, whether they predated the Inca state, or whether the Incas invented a “past” or emplaced an ancestor at these places, as they seem to have done at Huanacauri and Anahuarque. However given the uneven distribution of these historical and indigenous places throughout Cusco, it is remarkable that the roads of Capac Raymi connected so many places that invoked the distant past. Discussion. Landscapes and Memories in Ancient Cusco The archaeological data from the routes of the Capac Raymi ceremony reveal a perspective on Cusco’s past that is not evident in the Spanish historical accounts of Inca foundations. On the road to Huanacauri, we see that the initiates encountered abandoned villages and ancestral huacas, specifically huacas associated with a non-Inca past such as Anahuarque and Yavira, as well as ruins such as Muyu Urqu, Pukakancha, and Matagua. They met with these beings and places as they walked to pay reverence to their own ancestor, Huanacauri. The positions of these huacas and sites suggest that this road, and the other processions of Capac Raymi, were designed to call attention to the city’s past and the city’s constituent ethnic groups. The archaeological data also suggest how Cusco’s past was invoked as these initiates walked the road to Huanacauri. The road was designed to alter the initiates’ dispositions and perceptions before they entered mythic places. Broader plazas (Aukaypata, the plaza of Huanacauri, the platform at Paqopallana, and also the plain at Anahuarque) suggest spaces to perform dances and songs of the past. It is probable that the platforms of the Capac Raymi roads were used for the taquis and guaris that the Spanish sources consistently mention when describing the ceremony. In contrast, the narrow sections of the road, the small platforms, and the exclusive walled huacas heightened the initiates’ attention to specific places and land features, providing for an individual and intimate encounter with mythic beings. The pathways of Capac Raymi invoked a perspective on the past by connecting a sequence of sacred places and requiring a sequence of ritual practices. In this sequence, “where” each huaca was located was essential to “when” each huaca was located (in using this phrase I draw on Chase’s 2015 interpretation of huacas). In other words, the positions of huacas on the land, and their positions relative to the sequence of other huacas, placed them in time. The sequence of huacas created a temporal sequence that could only 200 be “known” from the relationships between objects in the sequence, rather than from a central or egocentric perspective from Cusco. In this sense, the Incas built Huanacauri at the end of a sequence of huacas and ruins to anchor Cusco’s history in an ancestral “line” (a claim to history rather than a lineage). The initiates who walked the roads of Capac Raymi journeyed through the recent past and the mythic past. The pathway to Huanacauri first led them to a recent past personified by the mummified rulers and warrior boulders (pururaucas) of Inca Cusco. It then led them through the ruins. This leg of the journey does not have a correlate in the origin myths or historical sources. But it appears as though, by walking through these ruins, they recalled the deeper past of their city and their civilization. After passing the ruins, they entered a mythic past of the ancestor Incas when they encountered places such as Matagua and Huanacauri. Throughout the remainder of the ceremony, the initiates continued to encounter these pasts: the past personified by mummified ancestors, the past of living ethnic groups, and the mythic past. These “pasts” were not reduced to a linear sequence of time–together, the objects and persons on these routes constituted a vision of Cusco’s foundation. The ceremony reveals that, for the Incas, the past was present, living, and attainable. The Inca past was not a Christian-Protestant ontological sense of the past, in which mythic events, persons, and lands are largely attainable only through revelation, Biblical text, or priestly sermon. In Cusco, the past was knowable through ritual and movement. The initiates came to encounter and know their past when they participated in processions, taquis, and guaris. The ritual practices and movements of Capac Raymi provided Cusqueños a personal experience of the past, and this personal experience was essential to their subject positions as heads of the Inca state. As the Cusqueños encountered sequences of huacas and ruins on these roads, they acquired social memories–shared perspectives on the past. Theorists differentiate between kinds of social memory: (1) episodic memories which reflect those events, people, and places we encounter and experience, and (2) semantic memories that reflect those events, people, and places we learn via lecture, map, or text (Assmann 2006, p. 2; see also Wertsch 2002, p. 5). When anthropologists and historians discuss the construction and dissemination of ideas about “the past,” they typically refer to the processes by which a narrative perspective on the past is built and then distributed by way of education–a semantic memory that is learned through use of a map or text. In making such semantic memories, alternative versions of the past are silenced in favor of a single narrative (see Trouillot 1995). This kind of semantic memory is inscribed in (and perhaps created by) the Spanish historical sources. These sources attempted to render Steve Kosiba Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital. 201 Inca notions of the past in a way that was understandable to a Western audience–a linear narrative (cf. Abercrombie 1998). In tracing Cusco’s roads, though, we do not see such a singular linear narrative of the past, nor do we see a unified set of textual knowledge grafted onto the land. We see that knowledge of the past was acquired in movement across the land, through access to sequences of huacas and ruins that, when encountered in sequence, invoked shared (allocentric) understandings of the recent and mythic past. This kind of memory is not unique to the Incas. To be sure, social memories are often bound to places that are meant to objectify people’s inner experiences and emotions (Casey 1987, pp. 182-184; Nora 1989). What is different about the Inca case, though, is that the places of Capac Raymi worked to subjectify–they taught a shared understanding of the past, and in so doing, created Incas. These encounters would have instilled a sense of shared history and purpose that would have been crucial to the constitution and maintenance of a Cusqueño status. Drawing on the data from the Capac Raymi pathways, I suggest that the monuments and huacas of Cusco did not reveal a singular Inca vision of shared history. In other words, the meanings of these huacas depended on their position, and their position could be changed, terminated, or articulated with other indigenous landscapes. My suggestion builds on Yaya’s (2008, 2012) compelling interpretation of Capac Raymi, which contends that the ceremony marked elite status while also confirming the Incas’ asymmetrical kin ties with the indigenous social groups who gave wives to the Incas. Hence, Capac Raymi reasserted the uneven reciprocity of marriage networks in which the Incas held dominion over Cusco’s indigenous communities, and it required the initiates to pay respects to the assimilated huacas of Cusco’s other people (Yaya 2012, p. 130-131). The archaeological data suggest two corollary interpretations of Capac Raymi. First, recent archaeological research in Cusco proposes that early Inca state consolidation was less a sequence of Inca military and marriage victories (as portrayed in Sarmiento [1572] 1965), and more a complex and protracted process during which a new kind of regional authority was forged in social interactions between powerful ethnic groups in Cusco (Bauer 2004; Covey 2006; Kosiba 2012). These interactions gave rise to the concept “Inca” itself, which defined social differences by signaling that elites were an exclusive class holding authority (Kosiba 2012). In this light, it would seem as though the Cusqueño initiates who visited indigenous huacas and non-Inca sites in Capac Raymi called to mind the initial process by which the ethnic groups of Cusco became principal members of the early Inca state–that is, the process by which their once-autonomous 202 ancestors became Inca. Second, the archaeological data strongly suggest that the Incas constructed the platforms, shrines, and roads used in Capac Raymi in an effort to construct the past of the Cusco Valley, a past that was always present in the land. The data indicate that sites such as Huanacauri and Anahuarque were not established prior to the advent of the Inca state and its classic material culture style. These sites, and the Capac Raymi ceremony itself, may have been a later “invented tradition” meant to structure social memory among a Cusco elite during a time of imperial expansion (a time in which there were multiple new and non-Cusqueño claims to authority from the military, foreign sons, and provincial elites). The sites and roads of Capac Raymi, then, would have represented the panoply of indigenous Cusco groups that first assembled a state. Furthermore, the archaeological data suggest that these Inca social memories depended on the geographic contexts and places in which they were invoked. Indeed, if we compare the pathways of Capac Raymi with my recent archaeological research on the Inca road from Cusco to the monumental town of Ollantaytambo (Kosiba 2015), we see contrasting perspectives on the Inca past. Similar to the pathways of Capac Raymi, the road to Ollantaytambo was a royal procession route that was most likely restricted to state officials and elites (on Inca restrictions, see Hyslop 1984). In brief, the road to Ollantaytambo reveals a perspective on the Cusco region grounded in an Inca view of “the present.” The Incas built this road on land they had recently reclaimed from the flood waters of the Vilcanota River, land that was previously unoccupied and undeveloped. The road calls attention to the state-directed public works on this land, such as agricultural terraces, a channelized river, canals, and new towns–it emplaces a political aesthetic similar to that of modernist states (Scott 1998). The Incas positioned carved boulder huacas along the road. Situated next to springs, amidst terraces, and above canals, the shrines emphasized Inca transformations of the environment. The similarities in materials and design suggest that the shrines were designed to standardize, focus, and direct ritual practice toward the Inca public works in the region. The huacas were situated in lands where the Incas had moved people from other areas of the empire (mitmakuna, mamakuna) (ARC, Beneficencia, legajo 46, F.182 [1555-1729]; AGN, Derecho Indígena, legajo 31, cuaderno 614, f. 13, f. 26V, f. 29 [1559-1560]; see also Burns 1999; Kosiba 2015). In consequence, this road and its huacas emphasized new lands and new people. It did not pass near the pre-Inca sites of the Ollantaytambo area. It revealed a different (and perhaps contradictory) vision of the land and the past. Steve Kosiba Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital. 203 Conclusions. Walking Roads, Making Cusco This paper provides a new archaeological analysis of Inca pathways and huacas in Cusco and offers insights into how the people of the ancient Inca capital in Cusco perceived their landscape and recognized their past. Given the preliminary data presented here, we might return to our starting point and ask: What was an Inca landscape? And, what was an Inca past? Our journey along the routes of Capac Raymi revealed that, if there was an Inca sense of “the past,” then it certainly was a politically charged past that was both transmitted and recognized in ritual practice, and not the textual meta-narrative of “history” that was often rendered by the Spanish (see Zuidema 1990). The data from the Capac Raymi and Ollantaytambo roads suggest that Inca understandings of the past were inflected with political ideologies and modified according to historical and contextual circumstances. 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Duviols, Pierre (1997), Del discurso escrito colonial al discurso prehispanico. Hacia el sistema sociocosmológico inca de oposición y complementaridad , in: Bulletin de l’Institut Français d’Études Andines 26(3), pp. 279-303. Farrington, Ian S. (2013), Cusco. Urbanism and Archaeology in the Inka World . Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida. Hyslop, John (1984), The Inka Road System . St. Louis, MO: Academic Press. Julien, Catherine (2012), The Chinchaysuyu Road and the Definition of an Inca Imperial Landscape , in: Highways, Byways, and Road Systems in the Pre-Modern World, Susan E. Alcock, John P. Bodel, and Richard J.A. Talbert (eds.), Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, pp. 147-167. Klatzky, Roberta (1998), Allocentric and Egocentric Spatial Representations. Definitions, Distinctions, and Interconnections , in: Spatial Cognition. 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Kozhevnikov, Maria and Mary Hegarty (2001), A Dissociation between Object Manipulation, Spatial Ability and Spatial Orientation Ability, in: Memory and Cognition 29(5), pp. 745-756. Mannheim, Bruce and Guillermo Salas Carreño (2015), Wak’as. Entifications of the Andean Sacred, in: The Archaeology of Wak’as. Explorations of the Sacred in the PreColumbian Andes, Tamara Bray (ed.), Boulder, CO: University Press of Colorado, pp. 47-74. Molina, Cristóbal de (el Cusqueño) ([1573] 1947), Ritos y fábulas de los incas , Colección Eurindia 14, Buenos Aires: Editorial Futuro. 206 R efer en c es C i t ed MacCormack, Sabine (1993), Religion in the Andes. Vision and Imagination in Early Colonial Peru , Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Molina, Cristóbal de (el Cusqueño) ([1573] 2011), Account of the Fables and Rites of the Incas, Brian S. Bauer, Vania Smith-Oka, and Gabriel E. Cantarutti (eds. and trans.), Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Murúa, Martín de ([1590] 1962-64), Historia general del Perú, origen y descendencia de los incas . Colección Joyas Bibliográficas, Biblioteca Americana Vetus, vols. I and II, Madrid: Instituto Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo. Niles, Susan A. (1987), Callachaca. Style and Status in an Inca Community , Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press. (1993), The Provinces in the Heartland. Stylistic Variation and Architectural Innovation Near Inca Cuzco , in: Provincial Inca. Archaeological and Ethnohistorical Assessment of the Impact of the Inca State , Michael A. Malpass (ed.), Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press, pp. 145-176. (1999), The Shape of Inca History. Narrative and Architecture in an Andean Empire , Iowa City, IA: University of Iowa Press. Nora, Pierre (1989), Between Memory and History. Les lieux de memoire , Representations 26, pp. 7-25. Nowack, Kerstin (1998), Ceque and More. A Critical Assessment of R. Tom Zuidema’s Studies of the Inca , Bonn: Bonner Amerikanistische Studien. 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Sarmiento de Gamboa, Pedro ([1572] 1965), Historia de los incas , Biblioteca de Autores Españoles, vol. 135, Madrid: Ediciones Atlas. Scott, James C. (1998), Seeing like a State. How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition have Failed. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Ramos Gavilán, Alonzo ([1621] 1967), Historia de Nuestra Señora de Copacabana..., La Paz: Cámara Nacional de Comercio, Cámara Nacional de Industrias. Sherbondy, Jeannette (1992), Water Ideology in Inca Ethnogenesis , in: Andean Cosomologies through Time. Persistence and Emergence, Robert V. H. Dover, Katharine. E. Seibold, and John H. McDowell (eds.), pp. 4666, Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Rowe, John H. (1944), An Introduction to the Archaeology of Cuzco , in: Papers of the Peabody Museum of American Ethnology and Archaeology 27:2, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University. Tito Cussi Yupanqui, Diego de Castro ([1570] 1988), Instrucción del Ynga D. Diego de Castro Tito Cussi Yupanqui para el muy ilustre señor el Licenciado Lope García de Castro, gobernador que fue destos reinos del Pirú, Steve Kosiba tocante a los negocios que con su majestad en su nombre por su poder ha de tratar, la cual estaque se sigue , in: En el encuentro de dos mundos. Los incas de Vilcabamba, María del Carmen Martín Rubio (ed.), Madrid: Atlas. Trouillot, Michel-Rolph (1995), Silencing the Past. Power and the Production of History, Boston, MA: Beacon Press. Urton, Gary (1990) The History of a Myth. Pacariqtambo and the Origin of the Inkas, Austin: University of Texas Press. van de Guchte, Martin (1999), The Inca Cognition of Landscape. Archaeology, Ethnohistory, and the Aesthetic of Alterity , in: Archaeologies of Landscape. Contemporary Perspectives, Wendy Ashmore and A. Bernard Knapp (eds.), Malden, MA: Blackwell, pp. 149-168. Wernke, Steven A. (2013), Negotiated Settlements. Andean Communities and Landscapes under Inka and Spanish Colonialism , Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida. Wertsch, James V. (2002), Voices of Collective Remembering , Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tracing the Inca Past. Ritual Movement and Social Memory in the Inca Imperial Capital. Yaya, Isabel (2008), The Importance of Initiatory Ordeals. Kinship and Politics in an Inca Narrative , in: Ethnohistory 55(1), pp. 51-85. (2012), The Two Faces of Inca History. Dualism in the Narratives and Cosmology of Ancient Cuzco , Leiden: E.J. Brill. Zuidema, R. Tom (1964), The Ceque System of Cuzco. The Social Organization of the Capital of the Inca , Leiden: E.J. Brill. (1977a), The Inca Calendar , in: Native American Astronomy, Anthony F. Aveni (ed.), Austin: University of Texas Press, pp. 219-259. (1977b) The Inca Kinship System. A New Theoretical View , in: Andean Kinship and Marriage, Ralph Bolton and Enrique Mayer (eds.), Washington D.C.: American Anthropological Association, pp. 240-281. (1982), Bureaucracy and Systematic Knowledge in Andean Civilization , in: The Inca and Aztec States. Anthropology and History, George A. Collier, Renato I. Rosaldo, and John D. Wirth (eds.), New York: Academic Press, pp. 419-458. (1990), Inca Civilization in Cuzco , Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. (1992), Inca Cosmos in Andean Context from the Perspective of the Capac Raymi Camay Quilla Feast Celebrating the December Solstice in Cuzco , in: Andean Cosmologies through Time. Persistence and Emergence, Robert Dover, Katharine Seibold, and 207 John McDowell (eds.), Bloomington, in: Indiana University Press, pp. 17-45. (2002) La organización religiosa del sistema de panacas y memoria en el Cusco incaico , in: Incas y indios cristianos. Elites indígenas e identidades cristianas en los Andes coloniales, Jean-Jacques Decoster (ed.), Cusco: Centro Bartolomé de las Casas, Institut Français d’Études Andines, pp. 19-37. (2008) El sistema de ceques como computadora , in: Lenguajes visuales de los Incas, Paola González Carvajal and Tamara Bray (eds.), Oxford: Archaeopress, British Archaeological Reports International Series 1848, pp. 103-110. (2011) El calendario inca. Tiempo y espacio en la organización ritual del Cuzco , Lima: Fondo Editorial de la Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú. 208 B R I A N S. B A U E R I D AV I D A . R E I D THE SITUA RITUAL OF THE INCA. M E TA P H O R A N D P E R F O R M A N C E O F T H E S TAT E Brian S. Bauer / David A. Reid 1 An earlier version of this chapter has been published in Inka Llaqta (Bauer 2012). 2 Modern societies are not exempt from this, as we have seen the United States government declare wars on cancer, poverty, drugs, crime and, most recently, terrorism. 3 For an extensive overview of actual warfare in the Andes see Arkush and Stanish (2005). 4 The ritual is spelled in various ways including: Citua, Sithua, Situay, Situwa, Zithuwa. Most other authors are not so speciic, suggesting that the ritual fell sometime in August or September, depending on the lunar phases of a speciic year. The Situa Ritual of the Inca: Metaphor and Performance of the State 209 In many cultures, purification is an important part of ritual behavior. 1 The Inca (ca. AD 1400-1532) of the Central Andes were particularly concerned with purification, and each year they dedicated several days within a specific month to cleanse their entire kingdom, as well as its inhabitants, of impurities. This purification ritual, called the Situa, was a state-sponsored event built around the metaphor of war. The use of the war metaphor within ritual is present in almost all cultures and is almost universally evoked to justify actions of the state (Lakoff and Johnson 1980; Steinert 2003, p. 266). 2 The war metaphor is so commonplace that it seems unremarkable, yet it has only achieved this position because it is so persuasive. 3 The goal of this study is to examine several specific elements of the Situa ritual and to explore how the metaphors within this Inca ritual took on exceptionally clear permutations. 5 6 The Situa ritual is mentioned in passing in various accounts, including those by the Anonymous Chronicler ([ca. 1570] 1906, pp. 158-159); Juan de Betanzos ([1557] 1996, p. 66); Diego Fernández ([1571] 1963, p. 86); and Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa ([1572] 2007, p. 119), as well as in the report of the Tercer Concilio Limense ([1582-1583] 1982). Several others writers provide descriptions of the Situa that are largely based on information provided in Polo de Ondegardo’s report. These include Acosta ([1590] 2002, pp. 316-317); Cabello Valboa ([1586] 1951, p. 351); and Ramos Gavilán ([1621] 1988, pp. 134-135, 154). Cobo ([1653] 1990, Bk. 13, Ch. 29, pp. 145-148) also includes a long description of the Situa ritual, most of which is based on Molina’s and Polo de Ondegardo’s descriptions. 7 Known in English as Saint John the Baptist; during the San Juan celebrations, which are still held annually on the eve of the June solstice, large bonires are lit, and individuals cleanse themselves by bathing in the sea or jumping through ire. Overview and the Sources Each year, near the beginning of the rainy season, the Inca performed a cleansing ritual called the Situa. 4 According to Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, p. 413) this purification event began on the first day of the new moon after the September equinox. 5 The goal of the ritual was to prevent the arrival of illnesses associated with the rainy season in the Andes. 6 Cristóbal de Molina is very specific on this point, writing: The reason they have this festival called Citua in this month is because that is when the rains begin, and many illnesses tend to occur with the first rains. [Hence, it was] to pray to the Creator to prevent [illnesses] from occurring in Cuzco, as well as in all the [lands] conquered by the Inca, during that year (Molina [ca. 1574] 2011, p. 30). The Spaniards were familiar with such cleansing rituals, and both Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa ([1572] 2007, p. 119) and Juan de Betanzos ([1557] 1996, p. 66), in rare displays of cultural sensitivity, suggest that the Situa was similar to the Iberian ritual of San Juan. 7 Despite parallels with a familiar ritual, the Spaniards suppressed the Situa, and most other Inca ritual practices, as they gained control over the Andes. Nevertheless, parts of the Situa celebration were still practiced openly in Cusco in the 1540s and 1550s, albeit 210 in a greatly diminished form. We know this because Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, pp. 413-417) offers very specific memories of a Situa ritual that occurred around 1545, when he was six or seven years old. He describes various aspects of the ritual, but also notes that, as a child, he was not able to see all of it: I remember having seen part of this celebration in my childhood. I saw the first Inca come down with his spear. ... I saw the four Indians running with their spears. I saw the common people shaking their clothes and making the other gestures, and saw them eat the bread called çancu. I saw the torches or pancunu, but did not see the nocturnal rite, because it was very late and I had already gone to bed (Garcilaso de la Vega [1609] 1966, p. 416). As the Spaniards took control of Cusco, the public performances of the Situa became smaller, more restricted, and devoid of much of their original piety. Juan Polo de Ondegardo was in his first term as corregidor of Cusco (1558-1560) in the year that Garcilaso de la Vega left Cusco to live in Spain. As corregidor, Polo de Ondegardo was empowered by the Spanish crown to rid the Cusco region of idolatrous practices. The mandate included the banishment of non-Christian public rituals. Polo de Ondegardo was relentless in his campaigns against idolatry and he suggests that, by the end of his term, only a few vestiges of the Situa ritual remained, and those were largely practiced in secret ([1559/1585] 1916, p. 31). Therefore, later writers such as Molina (ca. 1574) and Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala (ca. 1615) had to rely largely on the memories of older informants to describe the ritual in its fullest manifestations under the Inca state. 8 Despite these limitations, the Situa was mentioned by numerous writers whose descriptions provide insights into this remarkable public ritual. The Cleansing of Cusco by Water The primary instruments of purification used during the Situa were water and fire. These same elements are used cross-culturally in different cleansing rituals. However, for the Inca, the ritualized cleansing of the empire also took on the metaphor of warfare, as both individuals and state-supported warriors gathered in Cusco to drive sicknesses, misfortune, and evil from the land. Although the link between warfare and the defeat 8 Molina suggests that the Situa ritual took place in August. However, all of his ritual descriptions are of by one month. For example, Molina lists those rituals that occurred in June under the heading of May, and those celebrations that occurred in December are listed in his description for November. Brian S. Bauer / David A. Reid The Situa Ritual of the Inca: Metaphor and Performance of the State 211 Figure 1 Guaman Poma de Ayala ([ca. 1615] 1980, p. 92 [112]) depicts the emperor Huayna Capac dressed for war. He holds a spear similar to those described by Garcilaso de la Vega in his account of the Situa ritual. of illnesses is made in several accounts, the indigenous writer, Guaman Poma de Ayala provides an especially detailed description that lists the various maladies addressed during the Situa: During this month the Inca ordered sicknesses and pestilence to be banished from the towns of the whole kingdom. Warriors armed as if going to war wave torches, shouting, “Sickness and pestilence be gone from among our people and this town! Leave us!” At this time they wash all the houses and streets with water and clean them. They did this throughout the whole Kingdom. They performed other ceremonies to banish the taqui oncoy [dance sickness], and sara oncoy [maize sickness], puquio oncoy [spring sickness], pacha panta [flat earth], chirapa oncoy [rain with sun sickness], pacha maca [earth vessel], acapana [(sun rise/set], ayapacha oncoycona [sicknesses caused by burials] (Guaman Poma de Ayala [ca. 1615] 2009, pp. 192, 195). The ritual began on the day of a new moon when, according to Molina, a council was held in the Coricancha (otherwise known as the Temple of the Sun) with the Inca, the high priest of the Sun, and other important officials and priests, concerning the arrangements of that year’s ritual. 9 In a peremptory act of cleansing, those individuals who were deemed impure, including all foreigners and anyone with a physical defect, were banished from the city. 9 Molina ([ca. 1574] 2011) suggests that the ritual began at noon, while Garcilaso de la Vega indicates that it started at sunrise. 10 Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, p. 414) states that the Situa ritual he witnessed began near the fort of Sacsayhuaman– more speciically at the Inca palace of the Collcampata on the slope above Cusco–rather than at the Coricancha. The Collcampata, the oicial residence of the neo-Inca rulers of Cusco, was a logical alternative to the Coricancha during the early colonial period because the central temple of Cusco was destroyed when a Dominican church was built over it (Bauer 2004). During this council, a large group of warriors amassed outside the Temple of the Sun waiting instructions from the Inca. 10 It was the job of these warriors to begin the ritual and to drive impurities from Cusco and the surrounding countryside. Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, p. 414) describes in detail one of the warriors who was attired to fight the evils of the city, “He was richly dressed, wrapped in a blanket, with a spear in his hand garnished with a band about a tercia wide [about 30 centimeters], made of feathers of various colors, which hung from the point of the spear down to the guard and was attached at places with gold rings, a device also used as a standard in wartime.” (Figure 1) 212 Those who had assembled at the Coricancha then went to the central plaza of Cusco chanting, “Illnesses, disasters, misfortunes, and dangers leave this land!” 11 Molina ([ca. 1574] 2011, pp. 31-32) notes that four groups of one hundred armed warriors would be stationed around a ceremonial font near the center of the plaza into which chicha was poured. 12 Each group faced one of the four divisions (suyus) or quarters of the empire: Chinchaysuyu (to the northwest), Collasuyu (to the southeast), Cuntisuyu (to the southwest) and Antisuyu (to the northeast). The warriors then repeated the ritual cries and began running in their assigned directions, carrying their spears with them. The inclusion of each of the four suyus ensured that the entire kingdom would be cleansed. Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, p. 415) also describes this part of the event, writing that “The messenger touched the spears of the ... Indians with his own, and told them that Names listed By Molina Modern Name Distance from Cusco Collasuyu Co: 1. Acoyapongo Co: 2. Huaypar Co: 3. Antahuaylla Co: 4. Huaraypacha Co: 5. Quiquisjana Angostura Huacarpay ? Andahuaylillas unknown Vilcanota River near Quiquijana 14 k. 30 k. 38 k. -64 k. Chinchaysuyu Ch: 1. Satpina Ch: 2. Haquehahuana Ch: 3. Tilca Ch: 4. Apurimac unknown Xaquixahuana Tilca Apurimac River -18 k. 65 k. 70 k. Antisuyu An: 1. Chita An: 2. Pisac Chitapampa Vilcanota River near Pisac 9 k. 19 k. Cuntisuyu Cu: 1. Churicalla Cu: 2. Yaursique Cu: 2. Tantar Cu: 3. Cusibamba Churicalla Yaursique Tantar Cuzco Apurimac River near Cusibamba 7 k. 9 k. 35 k. 41 k. 11 Garcilaso de la Vega, Guaman Poma de Ayala, Cristobal de Molina, and Polo de Ondegardo all record similar, although not identical, cries to rid the city of evils. 12 By the time Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, p. 414) witnessed the Situa, the scale of the ritual had been reduced to its symbolic essences with only four runners in the central plaza, each facing a diferent direction. Table 1 Locations mentioned in Molina’s account of the Situa. Brian S. Bauer / David A. Reid The Situa Ritual of the Inca: Metaphor and Performance of the State 213 the Sun had bidden them to go forth as his messengers to expel the diseases and other ills that might be in the city and its neighborhood.” According to Molina ([ca. 1574] 2011, p. 34), as the armed warriors passed through the city, its citizens emerged from their houses, shaking their blankets and symbolically cleansing themselves of impurities. In the commotion, they cried out for illnesses to leave the city and they hoped for a prosperous year. Garcilaso de la Vega also recalls these events: The inhabitants, men and women, old and young, came to the doors of their houses as the ... [warriors] ran by and shook their clothes as if shaking out dust, giving vent to loud cries of pleasure and rejoicing. They then ran their hands Figure 2 During the Situa, runners left Cusco and traveled into the four quarters of the Inca heartland. The runners organized themselves into relays and carried the ritual materials to the major rivers of the region. The runners then bathed and washed their weapons and the rivers carried the maladies away. These actions helped to both deine and cleanse the Inca heartland. (Map by Gabriel E. Cantarutti) 214 over their heads and faces, arms, legs, and bodies, as if washing themselves and driving all ills out of their houses so that the messengers of the Sun might expel them from the city. This was done not only in the streets through which the [warriors] passed but also throughout the city as a whole (Garcilaso de la Vega [1609] 1966, p. 415). When the warriors left the city, the ritual developed into a relay as their spears (which were seen as both carrying and defeating the illness) were passed from the first runners to others located in the countryside. The order of the runners mirrored the social hierarchy of the empire as the highest status citizens of Cusco began the race within the confines of the city and then passed the weapons on to lesser individuals in the hinterland. 13 Again, Garcilaso de la Vega describes this practice: The messengers ran with their spears a quarter of a league out of the city, where ... other Incas, not of the royal blood, but Incas by privilege, took the spears and ran another quarter of a league, and then handed them to others, and so on until they were five or six leagues from the city ...” (Garcilaso de la Vega [1609] 1966, p. 415). Furthermore, Molina ([ca. 1574] 2011, pp. 32-34) provides a detailed account of the routes that the armed warriors traveled from Cusco. These routes are important because they provide a map of social territories within the Cusco region (Table 1). Molina indicates that the warriors who ran towards Collasuyu left Cusco, shouting and carrying their spears as far as the straits of Acoyapongo (Figure 3). Acoyapongo is the narrow, eastern end of the Cusco basin known today as the Angostura. There, selected citizens of Hurin Cusco (i.e. Lower Cusco) accepted the spears and delivered them to the settlers of Huaypar, who in turn carried the spears until they reached the village of Andahuaylillas. From there, the spears were given to the inhabitants of Huaraypacha until they reached Quiquijana, where the runners washed themselves and their weapons in the river. The warriors who went towards Chinchaysuyu left Cusco carrying their spears and shouting in the same way. They traveled to a place approximately a league from Cusco called Satpina. From there, new runners went to Xaquixahuana (modern Anta) and then others ran to the mountain of Tilca near the town of Marcahuasi. The relay ended with runners bathing themselves as well as their clothes and weapons in the Apurímac River. Those who ran towards Antisuyu went as far as Chita [pampa] where they met settlers from Pisac. 14 13 For additional information on the kin groups involved in the Situa, see MacCormack (1991, pp. 195-199). 14 These runners are said to have been from the towns of Coya and Paulo. For additional information on these groups see Covey (2006). Brian S. Bauer / David A. Reid The Situa Ritual of the Inca: Metaphor and Performance of the State 215 Figure 3 Guaman Poma de Ayala ([ca. 1615] 1980, p. 226 [254]) illustrates the use of the burning pancuncus during the Situa ritual. Note that the participants carry shields and are dressed for war. The drawing is entitled September, cola raimi quilla (queen celebration month). These warriors finished their part of the ritual by bathing in the Vilcanota River. The group that ran towards Cuntisuyu passed their spears to the settlers of Yaurisque at the mountain pass of Churicalla. From there, the runners continued to the village of Tantar in the Paruro Valley. There, a new set of runners continued until they reached the Apurímac River on the plain of Cusibamba, where they bathed themselves and their weapons. In this ritual washing, the runners and their spears (and, symbolically, all of the regions through which runners had journeyed) were cleansed. During Inca times, the ritualized expulsion of disease ended with the last participants of the four relays bathing themselves and their weapons in the major rivers of the region. The four end locations of the relays were not casually selected, but as noted by Covey (2006, p. 210), marked the “limits of territory over which royal Inca lineages had traditional control.” Molina ([ca. 1574] 2011, p. 34) notes that the runners washed in these rivers because they believed that these specific rivers would carry the maladies away into the sea. 216 The Situa ritual later witnessed by Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, p. 415) ended just outside of Cusco. Nevertheless, shortened relays ended with the runners sticking their spears “in the ground as a barrier to prevent the ills from re-entering the area from which they had been banished.” Thus, even in this pared-down version, the instruments of war (i.e. the spears) were important elements of the ritual. The Nocturnal Cleansing of Cusco by Fire During the first day of the Situa, the illnesses of Cusco were driven out of the city by spear point and cleansed by water. However for the Inca, the daytime cleansing of the region was not enough, and a similar ritual was conducted in the night. We are told that as the new moon rose in the night sky all would cry out, “Evil be gone” and special straw torches were lit to cleanse the city of nighttime evils. Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, p. 415), explicitly associates the use of spears to fight evil during the day with the selection of fire to fight evil during the darkness, writing that the “torches removed the evils by night as the spears did by day.” The torches in particular intrigued the Spaniards, so we have several different descriptions of them. Polo de Ondegardo ([1559/1585] 1916, p. 31) indicates that they were called panconcos, and that among other activities the natives hit each other with them. The Anonymous Chronicler ([ca. 1570] 1906, p. 158-159) provides a few more details, writing, “At the conjunction of moon in that month, for three nights, all the Indians left the plaza together with many wooden torches with grass, burning to give light, they went running through all the streets, with great shouts and cries in loud voices, saying that it was to cast the pestilence and sicknesses from the city…” 15 Molina ([ca. 1574] 2011, p. 39) also provides information saying that “... they would take some large straw torches, like very large balls, which they tied with some ropes and lit. They would go about playing with them, or more precisely, hitting one another. They called these straw balls, mauro pancuncu”. Guaman Poma de Ayala describes the pancuncus as “burning slings” and illustrated them in his chronicle (Figure 3). Once again, however, it is Garcilaso de la Vega who provides the most detailed account. He writes the following: The following night they went out with great torches of straw woven like the jackets for oil jars in round balls. These were called pancuncu, and took a long time to burn. Each was fastened to a cord a fathom in length, and they used to 15 Y a la opusición de la luna leen a de este mes, tres noches, juntos todos los ynidios, salían á la plaza con muchos hachos de para con lumbre, encendidoa á manera de yluminaries, y andauan corriendo por todas las calles, dando grandes gritos y alaridos y muchos bozinas; y dezían que esto hera para echar la pestilencia y enfermedades del pueblo, e que con esto que hazían auentaban las enfermedades. Brian S. Bauer / David A. Reid The Situa Ritual of the Inca: Metaphor and Performance of the State 217 run through all the streets trailing the torches till they were outside the city, as if the torches removed the evils by night as the spears did by day (Garcilaso de la Vega [1609] 1966, p. 415). Similar to the spears used in the daytime cleansing of the city, the pancuncus were especially powerful, dangerous, and potentially contaminating objects. Accordingly, they were thrown into rivers at the end of the ritual so that the waters would carry them and their attached ills out of the heartland. Garcilaso de la Vega observes, “If later any Indian, young or old, found any of these torches in a steam, he would flee from it as if from the flames, lest the evils that had been driven out should attach themselves to him (Garcilaso de la Vega [1609] 1966, p. 415). 16 16 Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, p. 416) also notes that as a small boy he had accidently come upon a discarded pancuncu. Although the native children avoided the torch he did not, because he had not been told of its importance. 17 The exact order of these events is not entirely clear from the diferent accounts. For example, Molina suggests that the inhabitants of Cusco bathed before the pancuncus were carried though the city. 18 The word ceque refers to a boundary line or a ritual pathway. 19 Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, p. 413) indicates that the sancu was cooked in dry pots and left half-baked and doughy. Once the city had been cleansed by the burning pancuncus, the people bathed themselves. 17 Polo de Ondegardo ([1559/1585] 1916, p. 31) provides a description of this activity, “When this was done, there were general ablutions in the steams and wells, each person in his ceque, 18 or neighborhood, and they drank for four successive days.” Molina concurs, writing that, “At dawn, everyone went to springs and rivers to bathe in twilight, ordering illnesses to leave them.” During the diminished rituals witnessed by Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, p. 416) bathing was still important. However, individuals could simply wash themselves within their house compounds or in nearby streams. Nevertheless, even in these cases, the contaminated water had to be removed from the city and poured into a larger river to carry the evils away. The Celebrations in the Center of Cusco and the Culmination of the Ritual Other important elements of the Situa activities included a preparatory fast – again an act of cleansing – and the consumption of fine foods and large quantities of chicha during the closing celebrations. Among the most important food that was prepared, used, and consumed during the ritual was sancu–a dough made from ground maize and blood. 19 Like other major elements of the ritual, the sancu (also called yahuarsanco, blood paste) was used to cleanse individuals as well as the city itself. Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, p. 413) suggests that the blood of the sancu came from young children who had been bled, but not killed, from a cut made between the eyebrows. Molina ([ca. 1574] 2011, 218 p. 41), on the other hand, suggests that the blood came from camelids that were sacrificed during the rite. Garcilaso de la Vega provides a detailed description of the use of sancu during the Situa in Cusco: Shortly before dawn on the night of the baking, all those who had fasted washed their bodies and took a little of the dough mixed with blood and rubbed it on their hands, faces, chests and shoulders, arms and legs, as if cleansing themselves so as to rid their bodies of infirmities. This done, the eldest relative, the master of the house, anointed the lintel of the street door with dough, leaving some sticking to it as a sign that the ablution had taken place in the house and that their bodies had been cleansed. The high priest performed the same ceremonies in the house and temple of the Sun and sent other priests to do the same in the house of the women of the Sun and at Huanacauri, a temple a league from the city. ... They also sent priests to other places regarded as sacred ... (Garcilaso de la Vega [1609] 1966, p. 414). Molina provides a similar account of the use of the blood paste: Once that was over, they would go to their houses, and by then they would have a mixture of coarsely ground maize prepared, which they called sanco. They would place its [blank space] 20 on their faces, also smearing it on the lintels of the doors, and in the places where they kept their food and clothes. They would also take the sanco to the springs and throw it in, asking not to be ill or for the illnesses to enter any given house. They would also send this sanco to their relatives and friends for the same purpose, and they would warm the bodies of the dead with it [as well], so that they could enjoy the celebration (Molina [ca. 1574] 2011, p. 36). The sancu was also eaten during the state-sponsored Situa festivities within the central plaza of Cusco. According to Molina ([ca. 1574] 2011, p. 41), the dough was scooped up using three fingers and consumed after a short prayer. 21 Great care was taken so that none of the dough would fall on the ground. Those who were too sick to come to the plaza to participate could receive the sancu in their beds. 20 An incomplete word starting with the letters “ba” followed by a blank space. 21 Molina provides transcriptions of eleven prayers which were made during the Situa ritual. Because very few Quechua prayers were recorded in the early colonial period, the Situa prayers have been the subject of intensive study by various scholars, including Beyersdorf (1992); Calvo Pérez and Urbano (2008); Castro (1921); Farfán Ayerbe (1945); Meneses (1965); Rojas (1937); and Rowe (1953, 1970). Brian S. Bauer / David A. Reid The Situa Ritual of the Inca: Metaphor and Performance of the State 219 After sickness and pestilence had been banished by fire and water, the Situa ritual continued for three to four days, and like other Inca state rituals, involved public ceremonies and offerings associated with the worship of the creator god Viracocha, the Sun, and the Inca. 22 Thousands of inhabitants, grouped according to their appropriate lineages and moiety divisions, would gather in the plaza to participate in the festive events. The gatherings were joyous occasions and any bickering or arguments were discouraged as it was thought that any malicious action would bring misfortune to the participants. Molina ([ca. 1574] 2011, pp. 37-38) indicates that priests brought all the major shrines [huacas] of the city, including the richly dressed mummies of the former Incas, to the plaza for all to see, and so that they could also participate in the celebration (Bauer and Coello Rodríguez 2007). The mummies were treated as living beings and underwent all other aspects of the ritual, including having sancu smeared on their faces. Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, pp. 415-416) describes how requisite offerings were made of sacrificed camelids with the “flesh roasted in the main square and distributed among all those present”, alongside commencements of singing and dancing. Molina ([ca. 1574] 2011, pp. 41-42) also records that the lungs of the sacrificed animals were inspected for divination purposes to indicate whether the forthcoming year would be prosperous. Like other state-sponsored festivities and rituals, the offerings and maize came from the “lands of the Religion” which were held and worked by the Inca mit’a system across the empire (Cobo [1653] 1979, p. 147). 22 For additional information on the activities which occurred during these days see Molina ([ca. 1574] 2011). At the close of the celebrations, those who had been banished from Cusco because of impurities returned to the city, as well as visitors from conquered ethnic groups of the empire. Molina describes the procession of foreigners into the plaza where the conspicuous symbols of power and hierarchy of the Inca state were on display, “The next day in the morning, all the nations that the Inca had subjected would enter [the plaza]. They came with their huacas and dressed in the clothing of their lands, the finest that they could have. And the priests who were in charge of the huacas carried them on litters” (Molina [ca. 1574] 2011, p. 50). The delegations participated in the final rituals of the Situa and performed their taqui (or song) and dance native to their homelands. Accordingly, the Situa lasted for multiple days and incorporated rites on the individual and state level. 220 The Situa Ritual an Anthropological Perspective Colonial descriptions of the Inca calendric ceremonial cycle, and, in particular, the Situa ritual, offer rare insights into the structures and form of ritual in the prehispanic Andes. Though the study of ritual is myriad in the discipline of anthropology, two main premises are helpful for our analysis: 1) rituals are inherently symbolic, and 2) rituals are performances tied to structures of power and negotiation (Schieffelin 1985). It is in the performative realm of ritual that ideology as a process plays out in society. We can therefore analyze the Situa ritual as one where its symbolic qualities, namely the metaphor of warfare, are used to orient the individual within the Inca state and in relation to the supernatural world. As ideology and power are inextricably entwined, the Situa ritual also functioned to legitimize the Inca state within its heartland and conquered territories. The Situa cleansing ritual reflects how the Inca interpreted misfortune and illness as residing within a supernatural realm where, through the use of rituals and active participation, humans could still hold sway. More specifically, it was only through statesponsored ritual and supernatural warfare that sickness and evil could be kept at bay and order emplaced over chaos. The fact that we find warfare at the core of the Situa ritual is not surprising, as warfare is one of the central metaphors promoted by the Inca (Bauer 1991, 1996) and it provides the central logic for almost all of their ritualized actions. In the words of Steinert (2003, p. 268), “The war metaphor is ubiquitous, connected to strong emotions and social values and it is widely useful in politics of mass appeal. The metaphor creates pressure for unity, solidarity, mobilization of people and resources for the common good (against the foe).” Furthermore, as the sense of an imminent danger to the populace is highlighted via the war metaphor, obedience is demanded, urgency conveyed, and any dissent is seen as a danger to the public good. With its emphasis on combat, the warfare metaphor also engendered the ritual responses in terms of male actions. The warfare metaphor is an especially strong and self-serving analogy for rulers of any centralized state to use because it serves to recognize the state’s monopoly of force and reaffirms a ruler’s position as the rightful leader. By controlling, scheduling, and orchestrating the most important rituals of the empire, the Inca elite placed themselves at the core of the Andean cosmos. Through the public materialization and personification Brian S. Bauer / David A. Reid The Situa Ritual of the Inca: Metaphor and Performance of the State 221 of the social order within ritualized action, the overriding social inequalities of the state become naturalized and legitimated (DeMarrais et al. 1996). Similarly, as the participating actors engaged primordial powers that were well beyond the reach of ordinary mortals, the officially sponsored rituals rendered the authority of the state unquestionable and irreplaceable (Bauer 1996). As power structures constantly need to be reinforced and reenacted in order to be maintained, the annual calendric ceremonial cycle became a means of the materialization of Inca ideology and power. Participants in the Situa also included foreign leaders and groups from conquered territories who traveled to Cusco for the culminating days of the ritual. Molina ([ca. 1574] 2011, pp. 49-50) describes how representatives of conquered nations were required to swear oaths of loyalty to the Inca, dance and sing their nations’ traditional taqui, and were only granted permission to return to their homelands if they left, “the huacas that they had brought that year as a gift in Cusco and took and returned to their lands the ones they had left during the festival the previous year.” The housing of conquered huacas and principal idols in Cusco may have made them “hostages for the loyalty of their people” as Rowe (1982, p. 109) suggests, but it also reinforced the notion of Cusco as the spiritual center of the empire. The annual return of the spiritually-charged huacas back to their ethnic homelands served to incorporate conquered groups and their belief systems into the religious hierarchy imposed by the Inca state. Redistribution, or rather the appearance of redistribution, is often employed by states and empires in order to maintain cohesive and lasting loyalties and alliances between often diverse and disparate territories under their direct and indirect control. Though the Situa ceremonies involved giving gifts of chicha, sancu, and livestock during the ritual’s celebratory final days, this can be considered as spiritual, rather than solely economic, redistribution. As noted by Polo de Ondegardo: During this month, the mamaconas [specially selected woman] of the Sun made large quantities of cakes with the blood of certain sacrifices. They gave a piece to each of the foreigners and also sent some to the foreign huacas [shines] throughout the kingdom, and to various curacas [local lords], as a sign of alliance and loyalty to the sun and the Inca (Polo de Ondegardo [1559/1585] 1916, p. 31). 222 Gifts were also given to the visiting leaders from conquered nations. Cristóbal de Molina writes: They were given gold, silver, cloth, women, and servants as a reward for the effort they had made in coming from such distant lands. And the principal lords were given permission to travel in litters. They [also] gave the huacas chacras [cultivated fields] in their lands and servants to serve them (Molina [ca. 1574] 2011, p. 50). Through their participation in this dramatic ritual organized and sponsored by the state, the inhabitants of the empire reaffirmed the ruling Inca’s unique position in the cosmos and his right to rule the Andes. The Situa ritual not only oriented the individual within the Inca belief system that involved sickness and purity, but also became a political stage for processes of the state that employed common symbols and metaphors, and mechanisms of distribution, as well as alliance building. Summary and Conclusion Each year, using the most basic (and purest) of forces, fire and water, the Inca attempted to defeat the impurities of the world in metaphorically charged combat within a highly ritualized setting. The first rites of the Situa included the purification of individuals through fasting and cleansing of the city by expelling those who were considered contaminated, impure, or unlucky. Then armed warriors radiated out from the center of Cusco, shouting and driving illnesses from the city and the surrounding territories with their spears. The warriors, having come in contact with the maladies, were then required to wash themselves in the major rivers that marked the perimeters of the Inca heartland. In the evening, the city was again purified, as warriors ran once more through the city streets, not with spears this time, but with torches. In the days of celebration that followed this cleansing ritual, a special blood-paste was made for both eating and for covering the faces of the celebrants. The scale of the Situa ritual, including local and foreign participants from the Inca Empire, make it one of the largest orchestrated, statesponsored rituals known in the Andes. Brian S. Bauer / David A. Reid The Situa Ritual of the Inca: Metaphor and Performance of the State 223 Recent anthropological inquiry has demonstrated how ritualized behavior and performance creates an arena where power and ideology is negotiated (Inomata and Coben 2006). If individuals stop believing in specific aspects of ritual, such as the elite’s control of ritual, or its underlying meaning, political power can be lost and relationships between the performers and participants need to be renegotiated (Schieffelin 1985). In this manner, ritual is not solely integrative in a functional sense, but can be an arena of contestation of power at all levels of participation. This is best observed in the final public performances of the Situa ritual in Colonial Cusco. As the Spanish increased control over the Andes, a concerted effort to uproot indigenous beliefs and practices occurred. Polo de Ondegardo ([1559/1585] 1916, p. 31) reported that only a few remnants of important Inca ritual practices continued in Cusco during his first term as chief magistrate (1558-1560), with all Inca state ceremonies disappearing from public view by the mid-1570s. This is confirmed by Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1966, p. 416) who observed the Situa as a young boy sometime around 1545, “... in my time the rite was no longer observed with the strict reverence and solemnity of the days of the Incas. It was not performed to banish their ills, for they had already lost their belief in this, but as a memory of olden times.” As new Colonial power structures emerged, belief and ritual not only changed due to Christianizing forces and the extirpation of idolatry, but also the nature of political control of Cusco. When a political state falls, so do the rituals that once legitimized its rule, and consequently the meaning and interpretation of ritual changes as well. The Situa became more symbolic of the lost days of Inca rule and its continuance into the midsixteenth century, albeit in a less extravagant and public form, can be viewed in terms of resilience and resistance to the upheaval of the newly emplaced Spanish colonial system. In this regard, we can also use the Situa ritual, its emergence in a prehistoric state context and cessation after state collapse, as a model to understand how ideology, power, and ritual are entwined and reflective of cultural changes. 224 R efer en c es C i t ed Acosta, José de ([1590] 2002), Natural and Moral History of the Indies , Jane E. Mangan (ed.), with an introduction and commentary by Walter D. Mignolo, Frances López-Morillas (trans.), Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Anonymous Chronicler ([ca. 1570] 1906), Discurso de la sucesión y gobierno de los yngas , in: Juicio de límites entre el Perú y Bolivia. Prueba peruana presentada al gobierno de la República Argentina, vol. 8, Víctor M. Maúrtua (ed.), Madrid: Tipografía de los Hijos de M. G. Hernández, pp. 149-165. Arkush Elizabeth N. and Charles Stanish (2005), Interpreting Conflict in the Ancient Andes. Implications for the Archaeology of Warfare , in: Current Anthropology 46:(1), pp. 3-28. Bauer, Brian S. 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Ramos Gavilán, Alonso ([1621] 1988), Historia de Nuestra Señora de Copacabana , La Paz: Cámara Nacional de Comercio, Cámara Nacional de Industrias. Rojas, Ricardo (1937), Himnos quichuas , Buenos Aires: Facultad de Filosofía y Letras de la Universidad de Buenos Aires, Instituto de Literatura Argentina, Vol. 1, No. 11. Rowe, John H. (1953), Eleven Inca Prayers from the Zithuwa Ritual , Berkeley, CA: Kroeber Anthropological Society Papers 8-9, pp. 82-99. (1970) Once oraciones inca del ritual del zithuwa , Jorge Flores Ochoa (trans.), revised and corrected by John H. Rowe and Patricia J. Lyon, in: Wayka (Cusco) 3, pp. 15-33. (1982) Inca Policies and Institutions Relating to the Cultural Unification of the Empire , in: The Inca and Aztec States 14001800. Anthropology and History, George A. Schieffelin, Edward L. (1985), Performance and the Cultural Construction of Reality , in: American Ethnologist 12(4), pp. 707-724. Steinert, Heinz (2003), The Indispensable Metaphor of War. On Populist Politics and the Contradictions of the State‘s Monopoly of Force , in: Theoretical Criminology 7(3), pp. 265-291. Tercer Concilio Limense ([1582-1583]1982), Tercer Concilio Limense, 1582-1583. Versión castellana original de los decretos con el sumario del Segundo Concilio Limense. Lima: Facultad Pontificia y Civil de Teología de Lima. 226 STEVEN A. WERNKE B U I L D I N G T E N S I O N . D I L E M M A S O F T H E B U I LT E N V I R O N M E N T T H R O U G H I N C A A N D S PA N I S H R U L E Steven A. Wernke B u i l d i n g Te n s i o n . D i l e m m a s o f t h e B u i l t Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule 227 Over the last decade there has been a certain convergence of thinking regarding the local production of power and new social formations in Tawantinsuyu and the Viceroyalty of Peru. In both fields of study, scholars have come to understand colonial power as a manifold and relational process that can produce seemingly contradictory effects: how techniques of dominance do not necessarily produce stable systems of domination – and more than that – how power relations can be destabilized through the same policies and media intended to stabilize them. This paper takes soundings of the consolidation and destabilization of power through the built environment, focusing on the transition from Inca to Spanish colonial rule in a particular context: the Colca Valley of southern highland Peru. It focuses on the terminal era of Inca rule through the colonial mass resettlement known as the Reducción General de Indios (the General Resettlement of Indians) instituted by the Viceroy Francisco de Toledo in the 1570s. Quite some time ago, Frank Salomon aptly characterized Inca imperial politics as “pseudo conservative” in nature. As he put it, “. . . at every stage . . . Inca administrators appear to have observed a norm demanding a superficial formal congruence between the imperial and aboriginal levels of government. Innovation was clothed in a conservative rhetoric” (Salomon 1986, p. 215). The Inca presented themselves as “a chiefdom over chiefdoms”, largely through the ritual forums and practices of commensalism, public ceremony, and mortuary cult. All were meant to reinforce a vision of the Incas as superordinate ancestors–a status that would trump obligations owed to local elites and numina. Local lords served as locally-recognized intermediaries, while state extraction was represented as an extension of traditional kin-based relations of reciprocity and redistribution. The form of imperial administration thus varied significantly as distinct orders were locally improvised. As a result, the form that the state actually manifested in daily life varied significantly as well. This dynamic posed a dilemma to Inca imperial power relations: Incaic “dominance” depended on its antithesis, the communitarian logic and ethos of kinship (Silverblatt 1988, p. 86). As ancestors to all, the Incas obliged tribute of their subject peoples, but by incorporating these invaders as ancestors, local peoples also (at least potentially) obliged the Incas to return the gift (Gose 2008). Because this apparent paradox of Inca imperial power relations was never resolved–and because Spanish colonial rule was instituted through the remnants of Inca institutions–it also shaped relations between local communities and Spanish colonial agents and institutions. 228 But if the modus operandi of the Incas was pseudo conservative, that of the master architect of viceregal governance in Peru, Francisco de Toledo, was “pseudo radical”. At the level of official discourse, Toledo’s governmental reforms called for the reorganization of the Andean settlement and community life from the ground up through a general administrative survey of the entire viceroyalty (the Visita General) and an accompanying comprehensive resettlement, a regimented tribute and labor quota system, and a corps of provincial magistrates (corregidores de indios) to oversee it all. Toledo envisioned an omniscient government and rigidly hierarchical social order in which everyone had an ascribed place and role in the dynastic realm of the Catholic kings. But the realpolitik was much more improvisational, through Spanish co-optation of Incaic institutions, clientelism, and so on. This was also partly by design. As Jeremy Mumford puts it in his recent book Vertical Empire, “Toledo loudly called for transforming the Andean way of organizing space, in the broad outlines, while quietly preserving it in the details” (Mumford 2012, p. 116). Although these more subtle ethnographic dimensions of the Toledan reforms are only obliquely accessible in written texts, this paper traces them out through the primary media of their enactment – the built environment. Here again is another parallel between the Incaic and Spanish colonial projects: in both, the built environment was seen as not just a reflection of a new civilizational order, it was manipulated to produce it. The built environment was seen as generative of policia–social order (Cummins 2002). Likewise, in the Inca empire we have come to appreciate imperial centers as elaborate stage sets for commensal ritual–as theaters for the production of political and economic obligation through the logics and ethos of communitarian reciprocity (Bauer 1996; Coben 2006; Morris 2013). Likewise, Spanish clerics, magistrates, and viceroys designed and built gridded towns around churches and plazas to inculcate Indian subjects to a new Christian social order (Cummins 2002). But such spatial ideologies could be sustained only so long as they resonated with the practices of subject peoples and thus made intelligible to them (Abercrombie 1998; Durston 1999; Mumford 2012; Wernke 2007). In this paper I look at the local effects and processes involved in the transition from one imperial spatial order to the other under Inca and Spanish rule, as they articulated with, and were transformed by, local communities. Centered in the Colca Valley of southern Peru, I trace out how Inca administrative schemata were incompletely instituted and continued to be mediated by local elites, even as new imperial settlements and imperial installations Steven A. Wernke B u i l d i n g Te n s i o n . D i l e m m a s o f t h e B u i l t Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule 229 at existing settlements were constructed throughout the valley. This exploration of the Inca occupation contextualizes post-invasion dislocations within a longer trajectory of centripetal movement and migration. Within this trans-conquest context, the more subtle ethnographic dimensions (sensu Mumford 2012, pp. 2-3) of Toledo’s massive experiment in social engineering come into clearer focus. Even as the Reducción did violence to relationships between people, settlement, and their enveloping agro-pastoral landscapes, it also recycled some of the core aspects of settlement organization initiated during the Inca imperial occupation. More detailed exploration of a particular reducción–the now abandoned town of Santa Cruz de Tute–shows how even the internal organization of reducciones were deeply compromised and derivative of Inca spatial forms and practices. This perspective adds to a growing understanding of how the reducciones were not simply alien forms arbitrarily imposed, nor as totalizing in their transformation of Andean ways of organizing space as proclaimed in official correspondence. Such “building tension” was never resolved, as the built environment simultaneously produced and troubled new colonial subjectivities and economies of power. Settlement Consolidation and Administration under Inca Rule Although perhaps unique in the speed of its execution, Toledo’s Reducción was not the first state-ordered mass resettlement in the Andes. The Incas resettled as many as three million subjects over great distances in their empire to serve as mitmaqkuna (ethnic colonists), and large population segments were also resettled to state settlements on a more local scale. Thus, in the Colca Valley–as in many areas–the Reducción would have been experienced not so much as an unprecedented rupture as a punctuated event in a longer trajectory of settlement consolidation. Inca administration in the Colca Valley does not fit neatly into the heuristic categories of “direct” or “indirect” strategies of governance. In general, documentary sources represent a situation of centralized imperial rule through the partial realignment of local communities to an administrative hierarchy based on bipartite, tripartite, and decimal structural elements. The relación of Juan de Ulloa Mogollón, written for the survey of the Relaciones geográficas de indias, describes the political structure of the province of the Collaguas. First, Ulloa describes the distinct mythic origins, territories, insignia, 230 Figure 1 Location of the Colca Valley, showing provincial subdivisions, reducciones (pink) and other sites discussed. Map by S. Wernke economic foci, and mythic origins of the two ethnic groups of the province the Aymara speaking Collaguas of the middle and upper stretches of the Colca Valley, and the Quechua speaking Cabanas of the lower part of the valley. Second, he discusses how the Collaguas were internally divided between a higher ranking group known as the Yanquecollaguas, who occupied the upper part of the valley, and the lower ranking Laricollaguas, who occupied the middle part of the valley, bordering Cabanaconde lands to the west (Figure 1). Third, as is ubiquitous in the central Andes, each of these three populations was internally divided by ranked moieties: Hanansaya and Urinsaya. Steven A. Wernke B u i l d i n g Te n s i o n . D i l e m m a s o f t h e B u i l t Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule 231 Fourth, Ulloa explains how each moiety was subdivided by a ranked, tripartite schema, with the names (in descending order of rank) Collana, Pahana, and Cayao. These are the same categories that governed the ordering of the ceque system in Cuzco. 1 Ulloa refers to them as ayllus, and it is evident within the relación that each of them was composed of a decimal administrative unit of 300 tributaries, which was divisible to three minimal ayllus of 100 tributaries, which were in turn classified by the same tripartite ranking. The incomplete process of accommodating a standardized imperial program to the local context becomes evident when comparing the outline of the ideal structure to the deviations from it, as registered in a series of detailed administrative surveys (visitas) from the 1590s through the mid-17th century. In all three provincial subdivisions, the ayllus of Hanansaya tend to deviate more from the ideal, and these were primarily autochthonous, not migrant (mitmaq) ayllus. This is especially apparent in Yanquecollaguas and Laricollaguas, in which the names of the Hanansaya ayllus are predominantly Aymara, and point to an underlying dualistic organization. Tripartite and decimal administrative nomenclature sometimes appear tacked on the names of Hanansaya ayllus. These addenda probably index imperial efforts to restructure both moieties to the ideal schema. The functional workings of the system probably flowed from distinct policies between the two moieties: in Hanansaya, the Incas promoted the local elite and governed more or less indirectly through them, while in Urinsaya, the Incas resettled foreign ayllus and/ or reorganized autochthonous ones according to the tripartite schema. Those Urinsaya ayllus were probably more directly overseen by imperial administrators. 1 The ceque system was a network of shrines (huacas) that synchronized ritual activity in Cusco in calendar-like fashion. Shrines along the imaginary lines that radiated out from the Temple of the Sun were attended in sequential fashion on prescribed dates. If anything, the archaeological evidence points to a more pseudo-conservative form of Inca administration than might be expected from the written record. There is no dominant imperial administrative center in the Colca Valley. Instead, administration was apparently coordinated through three smaller imperial centers in each of the three provincial subdivisions. In Laricollaguas and Cabanaconde, the settlement pattern expands dramatically in terms of the number of sites and total area occupied between the Late Intermediate Period (hereafter LIP; AD 1000-1450) and the Late Horizon, administrative centers dominating the local settlement network in each. In Yanquecollaguas, existing settlements grew markedly and a new administrative center was built in the location of the future reducción of Yanque. Local administration there appears to have been more locally-mediated, as ceremonial complexes in the form of kallankas (great halls) and plazas were constructed prominently within the largest LIP settlements (Figure 2). 232 Steven A. Wernke B u i l d i n g Te n s i o n . D i l e m m a s o f t h e B u i l t Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule 233 Such open plaza spaces and associated great halls were central features in Inca settlements throughout the empire (Hyslop 1990). They were used as staging grounds for elaborate processionals and commensal rituals in which imperial representatives reified an imperial ideology of state beneficence through the conspicuous redistribution of staple and prestige goods in reciprocity for subjects’ loyalty and labor services. The performance of staged commensal ritual was a primary idiom of pseudo conservative imperial politics–as the Inca was presented as a kuraka-like father-provider to his subject “children” (see, e.g., Bray 2003; Coben 2006; Dillehay 2003; Ramírez 2005). These rituals engaged core Andean constructs of personhood and community, defined by varied conceptions of reciprocity among people and animating cosmological forces of the enveloping Andean landscape. Post-invasion incorporations Figure 2 Panorama of the ritual core of the site of San Antonio, a secondary Inka administrative center that became one of the early Franciscan doctrinas in the Colca Valley. This doctrina was abandoned with the establishment of the reducción of Coporaque (background) in the 1570s. Photo by S. Wernke As with most people in the Andes, for the people of the Colca Valley, the events of Cajamarca would have been a distant piece of news of likely ambiguous details and significance. The Spanish invasion was not experienced in this local context as a bloody takeover as much as a chaotic change in administration (though “administration” is almost too formal a term for early Spanish colonial rule). An initial semblance of Spanish governance was achieved by coopting local ethnic lords and distorting the structures of Inca imperial rule to meet the extractive ends of encomiendas (grants of Indian labor to Spanish trustees). As part of the first general distribution of encomiendas by Francisco Pizarro between 1538 and 1540, all of Yanquecollaguas was granted to his half-brother Gonzalo, while Laricollaguas was divided by moiety and granted to Marcos Retamoso (Hanansaya) and Alonso Rodríguez Picado (Urinsaya) (Málaga Medina 1977). Gonzalo Pizarro reportedly maintained a residence in Coporaque, though he spent little time there. The only Spaniards to live in a sustained fashion among local communities during the first generation after the invasion were Franciscan friars, who built a series of chapels at former centers of Inca administration. Consistent with early evangelization elsewhere in the Andes and Mesoamerica (Burkhart 1998; Edgerton and Pérez de Lara 2001; Estenssoro 2001; Hanson 1995; Lara 2004; MacCormack 1985), the earliest evangelical strategies in the Colca Valley thus seem to have 234 resonated with prehispanic analogs by focusing on outdoor catechesis and pageantry in a performative pastoral approach. The close associations between the Franciscan chapels and Inca administrative architecture within these doctrinas suggest that the friars’ early pastoral efforts, in contrast to the pseudo radical view of eradication and replacement evident in the documentary record, produced spatial analogies that referenced Incaic ceremonial spaces and their associated practices for the inculcation of new Catholic rites (Wernke 2007). Coeval documentation of their initial entry are lacking, but a Franciscan memorial written around 1585 recounts the arrival of a small group of friars headed by one Fray Juan de Monzón, along with Fray Juan de Chaves, about forty years previous–that is, sometime around 1545 (ASFCL registro 15, parte 5). About twenty years later, the Franciscans had expanded and began formalizing their mission in valley. By this time–the height of the Counter Reformation in Europe–Church institutions throughout the viceroyalty were struggling to move toward more uniform doctrine and methods of indoctrination (Durston 2007, p. 71; Estenssoro 2003, pp. 139-145). By the mid-1560s, the friars had constructed convents in Yanque in the central part of the valley and Callalli in the upper reaches of the valley (Córdoba y Salinas [1651] 1957, pp. 151-157), and a more formal system of doctrinas seems to have been in place (Cook 2002). The friars had by this time begun congregating households from surrounding settlements to the doctrinas (Echeverría y Morales [1804] 1952). We can explore these transformations in spatial order and practice in great detail at the doctrina of Malata, located in the upper reaches of the Colca Valley. Malata: an Inca Provincial Outpost and Early Franciscan Doctrina The site of Malata is located high in the Colca Valley at 3850 meters above sea level in a transitional ecozone between the agricultural core of the valley and the high altitude puna grasslands, where pastoralism is practiced. This small village, composed of 81 standing fieldstone structures in a 1.8 ha core habitation area, occupies a shallow draw in a broad alluvial terrace above the deep gorge of the Colca River (Figure 3). The site dates to the Inca and early post-invasion eras, and was abandoned with the establishment of the Toledan reducciones in the 1570s (Wernke 2007, 2012, 2013a, 2013b). Steven A. Wernke B u i l d i n g Te n s i o n . D i l e m m a s o f t h e B u i l t Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule 235 Figure 3 Architectural map of Malata, showing areas excavated (white). Map by S. Wernke Malata also exemplifies the centripetal trends in settlement patterning that began during Inca times. Prior to becoming a doctrina, Malata was a secondary- or tertiary-level Inca imperial outpost. Unlike other such sites in the valley with Inca architecture, however, there are no indications of a significant pre-Incaic occupation at Malata. The site was apparently established as a prerogative of Inca administration. However minor a role the site played in overall imperial administration in the valley, it retains elements of Inca settlement planning found on a larger scale at other administrative sites locally and throughout Tawantinsuyu. A small (9.6 x 6.0 m) kallanka or great hall, with two trapezoidal doorways, faces a long (24.0 x 8.5 m) plaza, which is situated atop a terrace on the high, western end of the site. Our excavations in the kallanka at Malata recovered significantly higher proportions 236 of finely-crafted Collagua Inca style serving vessels in floor level contexts than those of domestic structures (Wernke 2013a). The great hall and its associated plaza thus appear to have been the focal point of public ceremonial space during the Inca occupation. Similar to the other doctrinas in the valley, a rustic chapel is situated close to this Inca era ceremonial complex (Figure 4). This proximity by Euclidean measures, however, obscures major spatial reordering of the settlement as it was transformed into a doctrina. The chapel was originally built on the natural hill slope and fronted by four entry steps, without the enclosing atrium or fronting plaza. The atrium, plaza, and steps leading from the plaza up to the atrium were all added during a subsequent Figure 4 Panorama of the public and ritual center of Malata during excavations, including the Franciscan chapel (right), colonial plaza (in front of chapel) and Inka kallanka and its associated plaza (center, background). Photo by S. Wernke Steven A. Wernke B u i l d i n g Te n s i o n . D i l e m m a s o f t h e B u i l t Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule 237 remodeling event. The basic features of what became standard elements of Spanish urban planning in the Americas thus took form at Malata: church, atrium, plaza, cross, and civic building. They were not built at once, but fitted to an existing settlement, which was then significantly modified to fit a Spanish urban model (however rustically executed), perhaps with the expansion of the Franciscan mission in the valley during the 1560s (Wernke 2012, 2013b, pp 158-213). Evidence from the residential area also points to significant growth and the addition of newly-configured domestic compounds during the colonial era occupation of Malata. The village is arranged around an older core area near the Inca complex, composed of domestic compounds of circular floor plan arranged irregularly around central patio areas. Around this old site core, rectilinear houses were added during the colonial era. At the eastern end of the site, these houses are arranged in linear fashion in the manner of streets. They were almost certainly built by households congregated to the doctrina under the direction of the friars. At the western end of the site, such colonial era houses are arranged singly with patio spaces. Because of their separation from the rest of the settlement, proximity to the chapel, and the unique character of their internal layouts and assemblages, these buildings were most likely the quarters of friars, who probably came for short stays during pastoral rounds (Wernke 2013a). The Reducción General de Indios in the Colca Valley The Franciscan doctrinas were short lived, however, as they were either forcibly abandoned or overbuilt during the Reducción General of the 1570s. Between 1572 and 1574, the corregidor Lope de Suazo, in his capacity as visitador, “reduced” the population of 33,900 inhabitants in the Collaguas Province to 24 towns (Gutiérrez et al. 1986; Málaga Medina 1974, 1977). The province was the most densely populated under the jurisdiction of Arequipa, constituting a third of its population, and 35% of its annual tribute (Guillet 1992; Manrique 1985). Considering the regional importance of the province, there were powerful incentives to maintain the productive capacity of its lands and population. In that sense, the interests of viceregal administration, the church, and local communities were broadly aligned. But that must have made the difficult compromises inherent to the resettlement much more evident: who would bear the brunt of the resettlement? Many of 238 the important aspects of planning the resettlement must have been negotiated at a very local level when Suazo and his entourage met with the resident friars and community authorities. So how did resettlement affect existing patterns of settlement and land use? A full discussion of these processes is beyond the scope of this paper, but as a rule, a pseudo radical policy is evident. Although the reducciones brought about an abrupt transformation of the settlement pattern, high ranking populations resident in the largest settlements were displaced the least. There is overall continuity of settlement between the principal Inca administrative centers and the principal reducciones of each of the three repartimientos of the colonial province. In the cases of Yanque and Lari–the capitals of their eponymous repartimientos–the reducciones are literally built on top of the old Inca centers. In the case of Cabanaconde, the reducción town is adjacent to the two principal Inca settlements in the lower part of the valley (the sites of Antisana and Kallimarka), which were situated on steep hilltops, and thus not amenable to the construction of a gridded town (de la Vera Cruz Chávez 1987; Doutriaux 2004). In the upper reaches of the valley lie the ruins of a reducción that was apparently started, but never finished. This settlement, today known as Laiqa Laiqa, is also situated in the area of a significant Inca era settlement. During Inca times, it likely functioned as a secondary administrative center, sharing the same characteristics found at other other such centers in the valley, including two kallankas and their associated plazas. But what is especially intriguing about Laiqa Laiqa is the presence of a large church in ruins at the center of the settlement. This church is nearly three times the size of the chapels at the early Franciscan doctrinas, and is on the same scale as those of the other reducciones. Based several lines of evidence, Laiqa Laiqa was most likely the reducción referred to as the “Villanueva de Alcaudete de Coymo” (hereafter, “Coymo”) in the original listing of reducciones from the visita general. This being the case, Coymo would have been the nearest reducción to Malata, and was, therefore, the most likely town to which the inhabitants of Malata were resettled. However, Coymo was very short-lived. It was already abandoned by 1591–this is known because Coymo was not recorded in the visita from that year (the earliest known post-Toledan visita in the valley). It is, therefore, quite likely that the people of Malata were subjected to multiple resettlements over a few generations: 1) when it was established under Inca rule, 2) when new households were congregated there during its brief use life as a Franciscan doctrina, 3) when it was abandoned and the Steven A. Wernke B u i l d i n g Te n s i o n . D i l e m m a s o f t h e B u i l t Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule 239 Figure 5 Reconstruction of the history of resettlement from Malata to Laiqa Laiqa (Villanueva de Alcaudete de Coymo), from Laiqa Laiqa to Santa Cruz de Tute, and from Santa Cruz de Tute to the modern town of Tuti. Map by S. Wernke population was resettled to a reducción (probably Laiqa Laiqa/Coymo), and 4) finally with the abandonment of Laiqa Laiqa (Figure 5) (Wernke in press). The reasons for this aborted attempt at resettlement remain obscure–especially given that resettlement would have minimally displaced the households of the surrounding large terminal prehispanic settlement. But it is likely that the great majority of its population 240 would have been resettled to the neighboring reducción of Santa Cruz de Tute, the subject of the remainder of this paper. Recycling and Recirculating Spaces at Santa Cruz de Tute The reducción of Santa Cruz de Tute (today known as Mawchu Llacta), is located at 4100 meters above mean sea level, just two kilometers to the northwest of Coymo, in a high basin hemmed in by steep colluvial slopes (Figures 6-8). As discussed below, the reducción is situated at the location of a major Inca center that functioned as the top tier administrative center for this high altitude area of the province. Analysis of the visitas from the late 16th and early 17th centuries establishes that two thirds of the population pertained to ayllus of the higher ranking Hanansaya moiety, and that nearly half of its population came from a single ayllu: Pahana Caloca. Pahana Caloca was also the highest ranking ayllu of Hanansaya and the village as a whole. Moreover, the households of Pahana Caloca and the higher ranking Hanansaya moiety in general held more livestock per capita than those of Urinsaya. This is consistent with the ecological setting of Mawchu Llacta, in the high altitude puna grasslands. Thus, Pahana Caloca likely composed much of the original population of the Inca era settlement, and the reducción process minimized dislocation to this ranking ayllu compared to the disruptions to the lower ranking ayllus, especially those of Urinsaya. The ayllus of Urinsaya were very small by comparison, varying between just 17 and 91 souls, and were consistently more agriculturalist in economic focus, suggesting they moved up from settlements in lower altitude areas, such as Malata and Laiqa Laiqa/Coymo. Pseudo-conservatism of Inca administration is evident here–the underlying Inca settlement was built in the location of a high-ranking autochthonous ayllu, while lower-ranking ayllus of Urinsayu were more directly tied to the state (as evidenced by their names). The pseudo-radicalism of the reducción is equally apparent. On the one hand, the lower-ranking ayllu segments of Urinsaya were radically displaced from their ancestral settlements. On the other hand, the reducción was situated atop a major Inca era settlement where the ranking ayllus resided. The descendent households in the ranking ayllus continued to mediate colonial administration as they had under Inca rule. As we will also see, even though the built environment of this reducción obliterated much of the prior Inca era settlement, some of its original core features significantly oriented and ordered its layout. Figure 6 Panorama of the central portion of the reducción of Santa Cruz de Tute (today known as Mawchu Llacta), from the south. The main church and fronting plaza are in the center of the frame. Photo by S. Wernke Steven A. Wernke B u i l d i n g Te n s i o n . D i l e m m a s o f t h e B u i l t Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule 241 The excellent archaeological preservation at Mawchu Llacta enables a detailed view of the built environment and everyday life in a reduction town. It is located in the puna, with a large bofedal (high altitude marsh) running through the center of the settlement. Our archaeological survey of the town shows that it was built atop a major Inca center. We know from parish records that the town fell into a derelict state by the turn of the 19th century and was abandoned by 1843, when the population had moved 1.5 km downslope to the current village of Tuti, which is also built around a central square and 242 church. Today the population of Tuti recognizes Mawchu Llacta as their ancestral town. Mawchu Llacta thus provides an unusually detailed window into life in a reducción through the entire colonial era and into the first two decades of the republican era. Like the other reducciones in the valley, Mawchu Llacta is organized on a grid of square blocks. The blocks are uniform, varying only between 40 and 43m on a side, which Figure 7 Three dimensional perspective of Mawchu Llacta, from the east. Photo by S. Wernke Steven A. Wernke B u i l d i n g Te n s i o n . D i l e m m a s o f t h e B u i l t Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule 243 Figure 8 Draft architectural plan of Mawchu Llacta. Plan by S. Wernke corresponds to 50 varas or one cordel (the size stipulated in Toledo’s ordenanzas). The construction of the urban grid was clearly the first step in construction of the reducción, given that several blocks were delineated but no buildings were built in them. In fact, the center part of the site was apparently never built up. This central area corresponds to the bofedal. It may seem odd to build a reducción on a marsh, but the bofedal undoubtedly provided pasturage for the large flocks of camelids kept by the population. 244 It appears that the urban planning evident in the overall town layout did not extend to the interior organization of the blocks themselves or the forms of domestic structures within them. Colonial oversight apparently did not extend to the design of domestic structures, judging by the variability of their orientations and layouts within the blocks. In any case, it did not approach Toledo’s ideal model of surveillance, which called for each block to be divided into four domestic compounds, giving access only to the street and not internally to each other. Though a detailed analysis of domestic architecture is beyond the scope of this paper, in these high elevation areas of the province, late prehispanic domestic structures were predominantly circular in floor plan and were built around shared patios. As we saw at Malata, this arrangement was contested with the congregation of new households in the early doctrinas, as new domestic units were constructed with rectilinear houses fronted by patios. The domestic compounds at Mawchu Llacta generally follow this post-invasion model. That is to say, although state intervention is not evident in terms of the specific internal configuration of residential blocks, certain introduced architectural forms had apparently become normative. Moving out again to the scale of the reducción as a whole, the insistence on the regular orthogonal grid is especially impressive when considering the irregularity of the terrain, and the fact that this area was also the location of a major Inca era settlement. But the remains of this older Inca center were not entirely demolished by the reducción, and what was left in place is especially intriguing. In looking at the checkerboard grid of the site, one would expect to find the greatest regularity of layout in its center–that is, around the church and plaza. But in fact, this is where the orthogonal grid is least regular. A striking feature of this reducción compared to others in the valley is that its main church is flanked by not one, but two plazas: one situated off the north lateral portal of the church, and the other in front of the church (Figure 9). The plaza in front of the church does not fit the orthogonal grid in either its form or dimensions: it is trapezoidal, not rectangular, like the other plaza, and its placement does not conform to the rest of the grid. Large trapezoidal plazas are standard features in Inca settlements, especially provincial administrative centers. So this was almost certainly the central plaza of the original Inca era settlement. In short, the very core of the reducción was oriented around the central ceremonial complex of the Inca settlement. Several other lines of evidence support the interpretation of the trapezoidal plaza as the original ceremonial space of the underlying Inca settlement. First, although Steven A. Wernke B u i l d i n g Te n s i o n . D i l e m m a s o f t h e B u i l t Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule 245 Figure 9 Plan and orthomosaic of the central area of Mawchu Llacta. Structures and features discussed in the text are indicated. Plan by S. Wernke we have only recently completed intensive surface artifact collections (there are two teams in the field at the time of drafting this paper), there is a clear concentration of Late Horizon ceramics in this area of the reducción, suggesting it was the core of the prior settlement. Second, there are finely worked andesite blocks of imperial Inca style found exclusively in the walls of the church and the rectory. This area adjacent to the central plaza was likely a kancha (Inca residential ward) composed of buildings made of fine cut-stone masonry. It is worth noting that such cut-stone blocks have only been 246 recorded in the three top level centers in the valley: in the reducciones of Yanque and Lari, and at the site of Kallimarka adjacent to Cabanaconde. So this was apparently a site of similar administrative importance for the high altitude reaches of the province where the large camelid herds of the Collaguas were concentrated. Third, opposite the church façade, across the trapezoidal plaza, is a small chapel, behind which is an enclosed hilltop strewn with rock outcrops and boulders. That area is also one of the zones of highest concentrations of diagnostic Late Horizon ceramics. This area appears to have been a locus of intense ritual activity (likely a huaca or ushnu). These lines of evidence combined establish that the core elements of the old Inca settlement were not obliterated, but instead were integrated and recycled as its core elements. The Inca plaza was reused as the main plaza of the reducción. It was flanked on one side by a huaca, and on the other side by an Inca administrative or palatial complex (kancha), which was converted to church and convent. We also know from documents from the Tuti parish archive that this trapezoidal plaza was the primary plaza of the town. Church inventories from the late 18th and early 19th centuries refer to it as the plaza real (royal plaza), while the other plaza off the lateral portal of the church was called a plazuela (“small square”) (AAA 1792, fol. 17v-18r; AAA 1816). This is especially striking when considering that the so-called “plazuela” is a much more elaborate construction, with six chapels (all in ruins by 1792) and a central cross. It is the largest feature at the site, leveled with up to three meters of fill and massive retaining walls. We can further specify how the plaza real was subtly altered to accommodate Catholic ritual practice through the construction of four platforms along the edges of the plaza. These were almost certainly platform bases for posa chapels. Posas–altars or chapels situated in quadrilateral form around the church atrium or fronting plaza–were standard features in the atria of Franciscan complexes since the earliest evangelical missions in Mesoamerica. In part this configuration accommodated open air worship in the form of processionals during holy days and other significant events (such as funerals), given that early churches were often too small to house the large crowds, and the unbaptized were not allowed into the sacred interior space of the church itself. In this case, what is especially interesting about the placement of the posa platforms is that they were not situated in the corners of the trapezoidal plaza but instead were aligned against its bounding walls in a manner that forms a rectangle between them (see Figure 9 above). Steven A. Wernke B u i l d i n g Te n s i o n . D i l e m m a s o f t h e B u i l t Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule 247 That is to say, the posas “squared the trapezoid” and demarcated a Catholic sacred space in orthodox form within the central ceremonial space of the Inca center. Here we see another dimension of the pseudo radicalism of the reducciones in built form: the continued recycling of the central spaces of Inca imperial ritual in the heart of the reducción itself. Looking out beyond this core area, it seems likely that the orientation of the church to this plaza, and the alignment of the town grid as a whole, was set by the Inca plaza. The rectangular plaza at the center of the reducción also points to a similar trajectory as we saw at Malata and the other doctrinas: the move from an accommodation of antecedent Inca spaces and their analogous use through ritual processions (in this case, in the plaza real), to a more eradicative spatial order with the construction of a new plaza with its more orthodox trappings (in the plazuela). Here at Mawchu Llacta, the rectangular plaza represents a major investment in “perfecting” Catholic practice and producing policía. The same elements are present as in the trapezoidal plaza, but in much more elaborated form. In place of four posa platforms, there were six posa chapels and a central cross. Five of them are still easily distinguishable: three are located in the southeast, northeast, and northwest corners of the plaza. The southwest corner, the usual location for the fourth chapel, was used as the main access to the plaza, and probably for this reason, the fourth “corner” posa chapel is located in the center of the west side of the plaza. The fifth chapel is more than double the size of the others. It is situated in the center of the north side of the plaza, aligned with the central cross platform and lateral portal of the church (as described above). It is referred to in church inventories as a miserere chapel (a feature found in other reducciones in the valley) (as in the case of the chapel of San Sebastian in Coporaque. See Tord 1983, pp. 87-89). Paradoxes of Power and Place By tracing out this local trans-conquest historical trajectory, we have explored how the built environment was implicated in the simultaneous production and perturbation of colonial power in the Andean region. Both Inca and Spanish colonial projects produced major changes in the most tangible, daily practices of social life, but they were also 248 profoundly compromised in their local execution. For the indigenous communities of the Colca Valley, the ruptures of colonial resettlement–although indisputably disruptive– would have been understandable given how Inca colonial plans were also played out through the built environment and public ritual. These same media were also part of a continuous, trans-conquest negotiation of ritual space, as the central staging for commensal ritual (kallankas and plazas) became materia prima in the negotiation of religious transformation during the first evangelization. This early encounter– when the power lines between church, state, and community were not yet so clearly drawn– can be characterized as a dialogue that initially played on spatial analogies to provide entrée to both sides of the colonial encounter. At Malata, the implantation of a new model for the proper structuring of the spaces of a settlement can be appreciated, but the apperception, use, and significance of such spaces must have depended on their resonance with the cognate forms from the era of Inca rule. The construction of a space of religious indoctrination could thus also produce a new kind of local place of ambiguous and contested significance. In no small measure, it was such persistent heterodoxy that led to the more radical dislocations of the reducción program of the following decade. The close-in perspective afforded by Mawchu Llacta illustrates these paradoxical aspects in detail: its construction was clearly a massive undertaking and investment of labor for its constituent population and its design significantly altered the many material and spatial dimensions of daily life. But just as clearly, its location, orientation, and organization were significantly shaped by a large and important Inca-era settlement in the same location. Looking at the spatial organization of the reducción itself, it seems unlikely that the central dilemmas of colonial rule were resolved through the imposition of new built forms (as proclaimed by Toledo). If anything, the dilemmas of the built environment were intensified by the recycling of Incaic and autochthonous features and practices. Through such conflations, Catholicism and colonial conceptions of social order came to be apprehended and incorporated by the inhabitants of the reducción. That is to say, the process of reducción produced a new social order, but one that was both trans-local and irreducibly local. Here we can start to approach an understanding of the simultaneous production and destabilization of colonial dominance through the production of place. Ultimately, the Toledan move to recycle and mimic Incaic spatial forms and practices– plazas, processionals, commensal feasts, etc.–both produced and destabilized colonial Steven A. Wernke B u i l d i n g Te n s i o n . D i l e m m a s o f t h e B u i l t Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule 249 power. From a local point of view, both Incaic and Spanish colonial programs enabled the incorporation of the foreign within a local frame, even as that which typified “local” was transformed in the process. An earlier generation of researchers pointed to the widespread dereliction and abandonment of reducciones as evidence of the project’s failure at colonial social engineering. We have seen in this local context that Santa Cruz de Tute was ultimately abandoned in 1843, seemingly proving the incompatibility of the reducción with local community forms and land use practices. However, such a conclusion ignores the legacy of the reducción: the founding of the present day village of Santa Cruz de Tuti–a town spontaneously organized on a grid around a church and plaza. “Spanish” forms had been incorporated to the point of becoming symbols of autochthony. The people of Santa Cruz de Tuti abandoned one reducción to build another. Their descendants continue to live there today. 250 R efer en c es C i t ed U n p u b l i sh ed d o c u men t s AAA (Archivo Arzobispal de Arequipa) (1792), Sección Catedral y Cabildo Eclesiástico, Inventario de la Yglesia de Tuti. AAA (1816) Sección Catedral y Cabildo Eclesiástico, Inventario de la Yglesia de Tuti. ASFL (Archivo del Convento de San Francisco de Lima) (1585), Parecer de los Collaguas. Registro 15, parte 5. 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Coben (eds.), Archaeology of Performance. Theaters of Power, Community, and Politics, Berkeley, CA: Altamira Press, pp. 223-260. Dillehay, Tom D. (2003), El colonialismo inka, el consumo de chicha y los festines desde una perspectiva de banquetes políticos, in: Boletín de Arqueología PUCP 7, pp. 355-363. Cook, Noble David (2002), “Tomando Posesión”. Luis Gerónimo de Oré y el retorno de los franciscanos a las doctrinas del Valle del Colca, in: Javier Flores Espinoza and Rafael Varón Gabai (eds.), El hombre y los Andes. Homenaje a Franklin Pease G.Y., Vol. 2, Lima: Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, pp. 889-903. Córdoba y Salinas, Diego de ([1651] 1957), Chrónica franciscana de las provincias del Perú, Washington, DC: Academy of American Franciscan History. Cummins, Tom (2002), Forms of Andean Colonial Towns, Free Will, and Marriage, in: Claire L. Lyons and John K. Papadopoulos (eds.), The Archaeology of Colonialism, Los Angeles, CA: Getty Publications, pp. 199-240. de la Vera Cruz Chávez, Pablo (1987), Cambios en los patrones de asentamiento y el uso y abandono de los andenes en Cabanaconde, Valle del Colca, Perú, in: William M. Denevan, Kent Mathewson, and Doutriaux, Miriam (2004), Imperial Conquest in a Multi-ethnic setting. The Inka Occupation of the Collca Valley, Peru, Ph.D. dissertation, Berkeley, CA: University of California. Durston, Alan (2007), Pastoral Quechua. The History of Christian Translation in Colonial Peru, 1550-1650, Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press. (1999), El processo reducional en el sur andino. Confrontación y síntesis de sistemas espaciales, in: Revista de Historia Indígena 4, pp. 75-101. Echeverría y Morales, Francisco Xavier ([1804] 1952), Memoria de la Santa Iglesia de Arequipa, Arequipa: Imprenta Portugal. Edgerton, Samuel Y. and Jorge Pérez de Lara (2001), Theaters of Conversion. Religious Architecture and Indian Artisans in Colonial Mexico, Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press. Estenssoro, Juan Carlos (2001), El simio de Díos. Los indígenas y la iglesia frente a la evangelización del Perú, siglos XVI-XVII, in: Bulletin de l’Institut Français Steven A. Wernke d’Études Andines 30(3), pp. 455-474. (2003), Del paganismo a la santidad. La incorporación de los indios del Perú al catolicismo, 15321750, Lima: IFEA, Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Instituto Riva-Agüero. Gose, Peter (2008), Invaders as Ancestors. On the Intercultural Making and Unmaking of Spanish Colonialism in the Andes, Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Guillet, David W. (1992), Covering Ground. Communal Water Management and the State in the Peruvian Highlands, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Gutiérrez, Ramón, Cristina Esteras Martín, and Alejandro Málaga Medina (1986), El Valle del Colca (Arequipa): Cinco siglos de arquitectura y urbanismo, Buenos Aires: Libros de Hispanoamérica. Hanson, Craig A. (1995), The Hispanic Horizon in Yucatan. A Model of Franciscan Missionization, in: Ancient Mesoamerica 6(1), pp. 15-28. Hyslop, John (1990), Inka Settlement Planning, Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. Lara, Jaime (2004), City, Temple, Stage. Eschatological Architecture and Liturgical Theatrics in New Spain, Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame. B u i l d i n g Te n s i o n . D i l e m m a s o f t h e B u i l t Environment through Inca and Spanish Rule MacCormack, Sabine (1985), The Heart Has Its Reasons. Predicaments of Missionary Christianity in Early Colonial Peru, in: Hispanic American Historical Review 65(3), pp. 443-466. Silverblatt, Irene (1988), Imperial Dilemmas, the Politics of Kinship, and Inca Reconstructions of History, in Comparative Studies in Society and History 30(1), pp. 83-102. Málaga Medina, Alejandro (1974), Las reducciones en el Perú (1532-1600), in: Historia y Cultura 8, pp. 141-172. (1977), Los Collagua en la historia de Arequipa en el siglo XVI, in: Franklin Pease (ed.), Collaguas I, Lima: Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, pp. 93-130. Tord, Luis Enrique (1983), Templos coloniales del Colca–Arequipa, Lima: Atlas. Manrique, Nelson (1985), Colonialismo y pobreza campesina. Caylloma y el Valle del Colca siglos XVIXX, Lima: DESCO. Morris, Craig (2013), El palacio, la plaza y la fiesta en el imperio inca, Lima: PUCP. Mumford, Jeremy Ravi (2012), Vertical Empire. The General Resettlement of Indians in the Colonial Andes, Durham: Duke University Press. Ramírez, Susan E. (2005), To Feed and Be Fed. The Cosmological Bases of Authority and Identity in the Andes, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Salomon, Frank (1986), Native Lords of Quito in the Age of the Incas. The Political Economy of North-Andean Chiefdoms, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 251 Wernke, Steven A. (2007), Analogy or Erasure? Dialectics of Religious Transformation in the Early Doctrinas of the Colca Valley, Peru, in: International Journal of Historical Archaeology 11(2), pp. 152-182. (2012), Spatial Network Analysis of a Terminal Prehispanic and Early Colonial Settlement in Highland Peru, Journal of Archaeological Science 39(4), pp. 1111-1122. (2013a), Households in Transition. Reconstructing Domestic Organization at an Early Colonial Mission in the Andean Highlands, in: Maxine Oland, Siobhan Hart, and Liam Frink (eds.), Decolonizing Indigenous Histories. Exploring Prehistoric/Colonial Transitions in Archaeology, Tucson: University of Arizona Press, pp. 77-101. (2013b), Negotiated Settlements. Andean Communities and Landscapes Under Inka and Spanish Colonialism, Gainsville, FL: University Press of Florida. (in press), La producción y desestabilización del dominio colonial en el proceso reduccional en el Valle del Colca, Perú, in, Las reducciones indígenas. Nuevas perspectivas de estudio, Akira Saito and Claudia Rosas Lauros (eds.), Lima: Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú. 252 D O N ATO A M A D O G O N Z Á L E S S I S T E M A D E T E N E N C I A D E T I E R R A S D E AY L LU S Y PA N A C A S I N C A S E N E L VA L L E D E L C U S C O, S I G LO S X V I - X V I I Donato Amado Gonzáles Sistema de tenencia de tierras de ayllus 253 y panacas incas en el valle del Cusco, siglos XVI-XVII Cusco, el centro de administración política y religiosa del gran Estado del Tahuantinsuyo, morada de los incas, de los ayllus reales y de las panacas, fue un eje de irradiación y concentración de todo un sistema de caminos que integraban y comunicaban, en primer lugar a las huacas y los centros de ceremonias, y en segundo lugar a los centros administrativos y las zonas de producción de los diferentes pisos ecológicos. El valle del Cusco estaba estructurado por todo un sistema de caminos rituales cuyo punto de partida era el Coricancha. Este sistema integraba a las huacas que se encontraban bajo el cuidado, la atención y el mantenimiento de los linajes según su jerarquía social–collana, payan y cayao–, y que estaban divididas en cuatro parcialidades o suyos, los cuales conformaban el sistema dual político y social: en Hanan Cusco el Chinchaysuyo y el Antisuyo, y en Hurin Cusco el Collasuyo y el Cuntisuyo. Por otro lado, del centro nobiliario delimitado por los ríos Saphi y Tullumayu, y que estaba conformado por los canchas de los reyes, salían los caminos del inca o Qhapaq Ñan, que se dirigían hacia los cuatro suyus y que constituyeron una auténtica columna vertebral, que unía los caminos de integración y articulación con los pueblos o centros administrativos ubicados en zonas estratégicas. En términos sociales, la nobleza inca del valle del Cusco estaba dividida en dos grupos. La primera, la más alta, estaba conformada por los descendientes de cada uno de los gobernantes incas, quienes formaron ayllus y panacas denominados ayllus reales. La segunda comprendía a gente a la que se reconocía como parientes lejanos de los descendientes de los incas (Rowe 2003), que estaba vinculada a algún antepasado mítico (Zuidema 2010, p. 430), o ascendientes de capitanes u hombres principales y a personajes que tenían vínculos de parentesco, alianzas políticas o militares, o que destacaron durante el proceso de integración y articulación del estado inca (Amado 2013). A esta segunda clase se la conocía como los ayllus no reales. Ambas noblezas estuvieron divididos en dos parcialidades: Hanan Cusco y Hurin Cusco. Los estudios etnográficos, etnohistóricos, arqueológicos e históricos referidos al valle del Cusco, sugieren que es necesario investigar históricamente el sistema de tenencia de tierras, lo que nos dará una mejor explicación de la organización social de los ayllus y panacas en dicho valle. Esta propuesta tiene como sustento el contraste de la información de las crónicas de los siglos XVI y XVII, con el registro de la compra y venta de tierras, fragmentos de visitas y de composición de tierras, pleitos, deslindes y amojonamientos de tierras en los mismos siglos. 254 Donato Amado Gonzáles Figure 1 Tierras Valle del Cusco. Preparado y elaborado por Donato Amado Gonzales. Sistema de tenencia de tierras de ayllus y panacas incas en el valle del Cusco, siglos XVI-XVII 255 Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa y la relación de ayllus y panacas en 1572 Sarmiento de Gamboa ([1572] 1965) fue, a nuestro entender, uno de los cronistas que mejor comprendió la historia de los incas. Así por ejemplo, al describir la personalidad y el gobierno de cada Inca, señaló al terminar el nombre del ayllu y panaca, la parcialidad y el nombre de sus representantes o descendientes. Sin embargo, al finalizar la crónica, al momento de efectuarse la probanza de la Historia índica, los descendientes de cada gobernante fueron nombrando a todos los representantes por ayllu, y su relación no concuerda con la de quienes fueron incluidos en el cuadro anterior. En esta perspectiva resulta interesante contrastar toda esta relación con la “Declaración de los curacas de los cuatro suyus” (en Archivo Regional del Cusco 1584), donde en primera instancia se agrupa a los incas gobernantes en dos clases, Incas remotos e Incas modernos, del siguiente modo: los primeros corrieron desde Manco Capac hasta Viracocha Inca, mientras que Huayna Capac, Topa Inca Yupanqui, Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui y Viracocha Inca fueron agrupados dentro de los Incas modernos. En la relación podemos observar el nombre del Inca, el de los ayllus y panacas, y sus respectivos descendientes. En ella se constata que los descendientes o representantes de cada Inca gobernante únicamente son varones y que no hay ninguna mujer. Los ayllus reales y panacas estuvieron divididos en dos parcialidades, Hanan Cusco y Hurin Cusco. En términos espaciales el primero comprendía al Chinchaysuyo y el Antisuyo, ubicados al noreste del valle, mientras que el Hurin Cusco en cambio abarcaba al Collasuyo y el Cuntisuyo, que estaban al suroeste. Según el sistema de ceques, el último ceque del Antisuyo y el primero del Collasuyo marcaban el límite entre Hanan y Hurin en la parte meridional del valle. En cambio en la parte noroeste el límite estaba marcado por el último ceque del Chinchaysuyo y el último del Cuntisuyo. Estos ceques que servían de límite entre Hanan y Hurin coincidían además con el recorrido del camino del Collasuyo. Siguiendo esta ruta, los caminos que partían hacia la izquierda se dirigían hacia el Antisuyo y los que iban hacia la derecha iban hacia los pueblos del Collasuyo. Del mismo modo, en la parte norte, en la ruta del Cuntisuyo, los caminos que partían hacia la derecha articulaban los pueblos del Chinchaysuyo y los que enrumbaban hacia la izquierda unían a los pueblos del Cuntisuyo (Amado 2007). El límite entre Hanan y Hurin dentro del valle del Cusco se explica a partir de los siguientes casos. En 1562, en el pleito por las tierras de Puquinhuqui, Gualcancaguasi y Qanto, éstas 256 Donato Amado Gonzáles Sistema de tenencia de tierras de ayllus 257 y panacas incas en el valle del Cusco, siglos XVI-XVII Leyenda Figure 2 Tierras de ayllus y panacas. Elaborado por Edgar Denos Alfaro. fueron señaladas como tierras de los ayllus Uscamayta, Hauainin, Suti y Cuicusa de la parcialidad de Hurin Cusco. El Ayllu y Panaca Uscamayta, representado por Juan Tambo Uscamayta, sostenía que estas tierras fueron de Tarco Guaman, quien a su vez las había heredado del Inca Mayta Cápac. La Panaca Haguainin, representada por Martin Tisoc Sayre Topa, descendiente de Lloque Yupanqui, también declaró haberlas heredado de Huillac Uma, quien a su vez era descendiente del Inca Lloque Yupanqui. La otra parte del pleito la representaba don Thomas Saua Ynga, hijo legítimo de don Juan Ramos Saua Ynga y de doña Catalina Tocto, nieto de don Cristóbal Yupanqui, quienes eran descendientes de Topa Inca Yupanqui y por consiguiente formaban parte de la parcialidad de Hanan Cusco. Por esta razón el pleito fue sonado y se reconoció un conflicto por la tierra entre Hanan y Hurin Cusco. El litigio fue resuelto por el corregidor Polo de Ondegardo, quien sostenía ser conocedor de los descendientes de los Incas por haber tratado con ellos. 258 Gracias a los registros de la tenencia de la tierra en las inmediaciones de los campos en disputa vemos que estamos frente a su usurpación por parte de los de Hanan Cusco, quienes ocuparon los campos de su contraparte Hurin. Tal fue el caso de Colla Topa, quien intentó apropiarse de las tierras de Puquinhuqui Gualcancaguasi de los de Hurin Cusco. De este modo también encontramos a don Carlos Inca, hijo de Paullu Inca y nieto de Huayna Cápac, quien formaba parte de los de Hanan Cusco y poseía las tierras de Chaquillchaca, las cuales fueron expropiadas por el virrey don Francisco de Toledo para fundar la parroquia de Santiago. En 1578 todavía encontramos a doña Leonor Chimbo Ocllo, natural de la ciudad del Cusco y mujer del maestre Diego Fuentes, en posesión de tierras en Chaquillchaca, las cuales sostuvo haber heredado de Mayta Cápac. Doña Leonor por consiguiente formaba parte de la Panaca Uscamayta, conformada por los descendientes del Inca Mayta Cápac, de modo que podemos deducir que las tierras de Chaquillchaca eran de los de Hurin Cusco. Las tierras de Huanchac 1 en la parte sur del valle tenían dos sectores, Hatun Huanchac y Hurin o Lurin Huanchac. El límite entre estos dos espacios era el camino viejo que había sido clausurado y al que también se conoció como el Camino de Guamantiana. Las tierras a su margen derecha eran de Hurin Huanchac y las de la izquierda de Hatun Huanchac. En 1624 doña Pilco Cisa vendió a Rui Diaz de Betanzos un topo de tierras de maíz en el lugar llamado Hurin Huanchac, cuyos linderos eran el “. . . camino que baxa de Limacpampa junto al río de Tullumayo–al que se llamaba el camino a Papres–y por arriba el Camino de Guamantiana”. Esta referencia nos permite ubicar las tierras de Hurin Huanchac en la margen derecha del camino de Guamantiana. Del mismo modo, las tierras de los ayllus Saño y Qollana, en la jurisdicción de la parroquia de San Jerónimo, estuvieron divididas en dos partes por el “río y camino de Quispicanche”, 2 lo que evidentemente respondía a la división dual de Hanan y Hurin Cusco. De acuerdo a la tenencia de la tierra, los ayllus reales de Hanan Cusco en el sector del Chinchaysuyo y Antisuyo estuvieron establecidos siguiendo este orden: los descendientes de Huayna Cápac, a los que se llamaba el Ayllu Tomibamba, se asentaron en Colcampata, Choquepata, Carmenca y Piccho; los de Tupa Inca Yupanqui conformaban Capac Ayllu y estaban en Callispuquio, Parguaysso y Llaullipata; los de Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui, que conformaban el Hatun Ayllu, vivían en Patallacta, Amarumarcahuasi y Tambomachay; los de Viracocha Inca formaron Zuczo Ayllu o Cuzco Ayllu y estaban asentados en Callachaca y Sucsumarca; y los de Yahuar Huácac integraban Aucaylli Ayllu en Guachullay y 1 Los dos sectores de Huanchac comprendían todo el territorio del actual distrito del mismo nombre. 2 El camino de Quispicanche conocido como el camino real el de la Villa Imperial de Potosí. se le conoce como el camino Collasuyu. también fue del Collao y Actualmente del Inca del Donato Amado Gonzáles Sistema de tenencia de tierras de ayllus 259 y panacas incas en el valle del Cusco, siglos XVI-XVII Cusicallanca. Estas tierras estuvieron distribuidas entre las que posteriormente formaron parte de las parroquias del Hospital de Naturales, Santa Ana de Carmenca, San Cristóbal de Colcampata y parte de las tierras en la margen izquierda de las parroquias de San Blas de Tococachi y San Sebastián de Colcabamba. Las tierras de los descendientes de Inca Roca y el Ayllu Vicaquirao; de Capac Yupanqui y el Ayllu Apomayta; de Lloque Yupanqui y el Ayllu Haguainin o Andamachay; de Sinchi Roca y el Ayllu Raorao; y los de Manco Cápac y el Ayllu Chima se hallaban sobre la margen izquierda del camino del Collasuyo, en la jurisdicción de la parroquia de San Jerónimo–el actual distrito del mismo nombre–que las comprendía desde el río Pumamarca o Tenería hasta Angostura. Por ejemplo, las tierras del ayllu Vicaquirao estaban en las inmediaciones de Larapa; las de Andamachay o Haguainin en las tierras de Andamachay, cerca de Picol; y las de los ayllus Raorao y Chima en lo que ahora se señala como Chimaraqay. Las tierras de los de Hanan Cusco estaban repartidas sobre los sectores del Chinchaysuyo y Antisuyo del valle del Cusco, los que se hallaban en la parte noreste, y a las que delimitaban el camino del Contisuyo por el norte y el camino del Collasuyo por el sur. Resulta interesante constatar dentro de este espacio la tenencia de tierras de los de Hanan Cusco. De este modo, en la parte del Chinchaysuyu se hallaban las tierras de los descendientes de los Incas Huayna Cápac, Tupa Inca Yupanqui y Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui. En cambio, en el Antisuyo se encontraban las de los descendientes de los Incas Viracocha Inca, Yahuar Huácac, Inca Roca, Cápac Yupanqui, Lloque Yupanqui, Sinchi Roca y Manco Cápac. En esta relación resulta interesante constatar la ausencia de la descendencia de Mayta Cápac, es decir del ayllu Uscamayta. Por otro lado, es interesante resaltar que los descendientes de estos Incas se identificaban con el término ayllu: Capac Ayllu, Hatun Ayllu, Zuczo Ayllu, Aucaylli Ayllu, Vicaquirao Ayllu y así sucesivamente. Por otro lado, según la tenencia de la tierra, las de los grupos de Hurin Cusco estaban en el sector del Collasuyo y Contisuyo, es decir en la margen derecha del valle del Cusco. Lo más interesante es que los descendientes de los Incas gobernantes de Hurin Cusco se identificaron con los términos ayllu y panaca, dándonos así a entender que los hurin estaban identificados con estas últimas, es decir con la descendencia femenina. Sus tierras se extendían del sur hacia el oeste, en la siguiente forma y orden: los miembros de Iñacapanaca, que eran los descendientes de Mama Anahuarqui–la esposa de Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui–tenían tierras en las inmediaciones de Cayra y Saylla. Esta última aún es 260 reconocida como perteneciente al ayllu Anahuarque. Zuczo Panaca Ayllu tenía las tierras de Cayra y Oscollobamba conjuntamente con la Panaca Aucaylli. Los miembros de Vicaquirao Panaca y Apomayta Panaca tenían las tierras de Vilcarpay, Molleray y Quesallay. Junto a estas tierras se encontraban las de Raurau y Chima Panaca. En el sector de Cayaocachi 3 estaban las tierras de las panacas Uscamayta y Hauainin. La posesión femenina era muy importante en Hurin Cusco, junto a lo cual es importante destacar que las colcas estaban distribuidas en esta parcialidad, como por ejemplo las de Patacasallacta, Araway, Muyourco, Taucaray y Silkinchani, y así sucesivamente. Por las razones ya explicadas, los términos “ayllus y panacas” de los once gobernantes incas no caben ambos bajo la denominación de panaca, puesto que los de Hanan Cusco se identificaban como ayllus o ayllus regios, mientras que los de Hurin Cusco se presentan como panaca o panaca ayllu. Esto quiere decir que ayllu y panaca no pueden ser sinónimos, pues el primero se identificaba con los de Hanan Cusco, es decir con lo masculino, mientras que la panaca se identificaba con los de Hurin Cusco, es decir con lo femenino, cuyo significado derivaba de pana o hermana de un hombre. Esta forma de organización y distribución de los ayllus y panacas tiene los siguientes datos como fundamento. Martin de Murúa ([1584] 1964, Cap. 4, pp. 12-13) quiso hacer referencia paralela a los gobernantes Incas y sus respectivas coyas o esposas, y señaló así que “quando se trata de los señores yngas de este Reyno se mudan algunas cossas y sucesos de las Coyas Reynas, sus mugeres, todavia por particularizar más y dar mayor claridad a esta historia he querido hazer de cada Coya y Reyna su capítulo junto al de su marido, porque haziendo después particular tratado dellas, causaria en los letores confusión.” Por su parte, el Inca Garcilaso de la Vega ([1609] 1945, Tomo I, Cap. XVI, p. 24), hizo una importante observación al indicar que durante el gobierno de un Inca, los que estaban unidos por vínculos de parentesco por la línea masculina poblaban el sector de Hanan Cusco, y que por ello se le llamaba alto. En cambio el vínculo familiar establecido por la coya, la esposa del Inca, radicaba en el sector de Hurin Cusco, por lo que lo llamaron bajo. Según esto, los hijos varones del Inca gobernante formaban parte de Hanan Cusco y las hijas, cuya cabeza era la coya, de Hurin Cusco. Esto queda corroborado con las siguientes referencias históricas: el 28 de noviembre de 1566, Santiago Chuquicati (Archivo General de la Nación 1594, ff. 127-130) declaró que descendientes del general Titininrin de 3 Cayaucache comprendía lo que es hoy Coripata, que formaba parte de la antigua parroquia de Belén. Donato Amado Gonzáles Sistema de tenencia de tierras de ayllus y panacas incas en el valle del Cusco, siglos XVI-XVII 261 Inca Yupanqui estaban poblados en Savanmarca, un arrabal de la ciudad del Cusco, y señaló expresamente que los hombres estaban en posesión de doce chozas o bohíos junto con sus corrales y árboles, mientras que unas indias viejas y viudas tenían ocho. Posteriormente estos indígenas se identificaron como los ayllus Hanansaya y Hurinsaya. Otro documento data de 1584, (Archivo Regional de Cusco 1584-1585) de cuando las hijas de don Cristóbal Paullu Inca, hijo de Huayna Cápac, interpusieron una demanda judicial contra don Alonso Topa Atau y sus demás hermanos varones porque las chacras de coca en el valle de Tono, en los Andes de Paucartambo, estaban siendo usurpadas por dichos hermanos. Esto quiere decir que se repartieron cocales tanto para los varones como las mujeres por separado. Otro caso interesante data de 1584, cuando los hatun runas de los cuatro suyus presentaron una relación de los descendientes de Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui en la cual la mayoría eran varones, mientras que las hijas conformaban a Iñacapanaca; curiosamente, las tierras de esta última no estaban junto al Hatun Ayllu sino en el extremo sureste del valle del Cusco. Toda esta información sugiere que los hijos varones del Inca gobernante formaban Hanan Cusco, cuyas tierras se extendían sobre las partes Chinchaysuyo y Antisuyo, mientras que las hijas junto con la Coya conformaban la panaca y eran de Hurin Cusco, por lo que ocupaban el sector de Collasuyo y Contisuyo. Para refrendar todo esto podemos señalar que la madre del Inca Garcilaso de la Vega tenía tierras junto a las de Iñacapanaca, las cuales vendió a Pedro Alonso Carrasco. Las tierras de Mamatunya aparecen consignadas en los títulos de la comunidad de Conchacalla, de la parroquia de San Jerónimo. Por otro lado, Murúa refiere que Mamayunto Caya, mujer de Viracocha Inca, tenía jardines y huertas en el asiento de Managuañunca–lo que significa ‘no morirá’–con un bosque donde había infinidad de animales. Estas tierras, que pasaron luego a la orden de Nuestra Señora de la Merced, se encontraban junto a las tierras de Choco Cachona. Los ayllus no regios del valle del Cusco Al igual que los ayllus regios, los que no lo eran estaban también organizados en dos parcialidades, Hanan Cusco y Hurin Cusco; los primeros se hallaban distribuidos sobre la margen izquierda del valle y los segundos a la derecha. La característica fundamental de estos ayllus era su vinculación con el origen mítico de los incas (Chauin Cuzco, Arayraca, 262 Sutic Toco y Maras) y estuvieron ubicados en la parte de Hurin Cusco. En cambio los ayllus de confianza como Guacaytaqui, Saño y Tarpuntay formaban parte de los ayllus reales de los incas y estuvieron en el lado de Hanan Cusco. Así por ejemplo, Guacaytaqui tenía el privilegio de considerarse yanaconas de los incas. Esta posesión les permitió, en pleno periodo colonial temprano, realizar gestiones para que se les eximiera del pago del tributo y reclamar privilegios que sólo tenían los ayllus de la realeza. Hay, por otro lado, ayllus que no figuran en la lista de Sarmiento de Gamboa ([1572] 1965, pp. 19-20) pero que sí tenían un lugar preferencial y notorio en la responsabilidad de mantener y cuidar de los ceques, como por ejemplo los ayllus y parcialidades de Yacanora, Ayarmaca y Cari, que se encontraban en las tres últimas series de ceques del Antisuyu. En este punto es importante aclarar que el ayllu Yacanora, que no formaba parte de la nobleza real, tenía la posición collana, Ayarmaca la de payan y Cari la de cayao. El caso de Choco es muy especial pues no sólo se le consideraba como dadores de esposas a los incas, sino que además fueron también nombrados e identificados como descendientes de Apo Anaguarqui, “señor que fue destos reynos”. En San Jerónimo, don Cristóbal Cusi Rimache Ynga, descendiente de Apo Cauiri Ynga, fue considerado como “Señor Gobernante destos Reynos”. Todo esto explica el sistema de alianzas políticas, puesto que los gobernantes de estas etnias se consideraban “señores de estos reynos”, aun cuando esta denominación estaba reservada para los gobernantes incas procedentes de ayllus y panacas reales. La tenencia de la tierra de los ayllus no regios en el valle del Cusco Tomando en cuenta la información de Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa ([1572] 1965) y Cristóbal de Molina ([1575] 1989), quienes nos presentan una lista de los ayllus no reales con su ubicación, lo cual se corroboró con la tenencia de la tierra en los sectores de Chinchaysuyo y Antisuyo, se ve que en la parte de Hanan Cusco la tenencia seguía el siguiente orden: ayllu Arayraca, Saño, Tarpuntay, Maras, Uro Acamana y Collana Chauin Cuzco. Hubo una excepción: el ayllu Guacaytaqui, al cual el sistema de ceques colocaba en el Chinchaysuyo, no tenía tierras pero sí el privilegio de considerarse yanaconas de los incas. Esta posesión les permitió, en pleno periodo colonial temprano, realizar gestiones para eximirse del pago de tributo y reclamar privilegios que únicamente tenían los ayllus regios y las panacas. En Hurin Cusco encontramos que la distribución de los ayllus y la posesión de la tierra seguía el siguiente orden: Arayraca, Saño, Tarpuntay, Uro Acamana, Donato Amado Gonzáles Sistema de tenencia de tierras de ayllus 263 y panacas incas en el valle del Cusco, siglos XVI-XVII Masca, Cuycusa, Maras y Sutic. Estos cuatro último ayllus, que estaban en Cayaocachi y a los que posteriormente se redujo en la parroquia de Belén, fueron denominados Hurin Cusco. En cambio las tierras de Arayraca, Saño y Tarpuntay, en la parte sur, estaban divididas por el camino del Collasuyo. Por otro lado, los ayllus no reales tenían la responsabilidad de mantener y cuidar a los ceques, como los ayllus y parcialidades de Yacanora (collana), Ayarmaca (payan) y Cari (cayao), ubicados en las tres últimas series de los ceques del Antisuyu. Estos tres ayllus aparecen ocupando tierras en un espacio concreto, vinculado a los ayllus Zuczo y Aucaylle. Son muy especiales los casos de los ayllus Choco, Cachona y Cañari, que no aparecen en las listas de Sarmiento de Gamboa y Cristóbal de Molina, ni tampoco en el sistema de ceques. Los choco no sólo se consideraban otorgadores de esposas a los incas, sino que además fueron también nombrados e identificados como yngas descendientes de Apo Anaguarqui, “señor que fue destos reynos”, y les encontramos poseyendo tierras al lado de las panacas Chima y Raurau. Los cachonas, que también aparecen identificados como el ayllu Hurin Cusco, poseían tierras junto a los choco, por lo que aparecen como un solo ayllu llamado Choco y Cachona. En cambio el ayllu Cañari se encontraba en el sector del Chinchaysuyu, en el asiento de Ayahuayco. Este espacio correspondía a los de Hanan Cusco. Los “allinay” del ayllu Cañari señalaron que el dueño de estas tierras fue “un capitán nombrado Titerinre”, a quien Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui se las había adjudicado, lo que fue posteriormente confirmado por Tupa Inca Yupanqui y Huayna Cápac. Por otro lado, según la declaración de Santiago Chuquicati cañari (1566 en Archivo General de la Nación 1594), este ayllu vivía en Savanmarca, donde la organización de sus viviendas o bohíos constaba de doce para los varones y ocho para las mujeres viejas y viudas, las que conformaban hanansaya y hurinsaya cañari. El vínculo entre los ayllus regios y los no regios Esta relación explica el documento de transacción y concierto celebrado entre los ayllus Zuczu y Yacanora, y revela un claro predominio del primero sobre el segundo: no se pondrán las armas ynsignias en los dichos actos publicos ni pretenderan sacar el dicho Estandarte Real de Santiago, porque no les toca ni pertenece 264 sino a los dichos yngas, sin acudir a las juntas con el dicho título, so pena de ser quitados dichas armas y estandarte real y ser castigados por todo rigor de derecho porque la ecepcion y libertad que gozan los dichos otorgantes e yndios del ayllo Yacanora son por ser descendientes de Apo Saua Raura Capitan General que fue del dicho Viracocha Ynga como hombre principal en las guerras que tuvo y no descendientes del dicho Viracocha Ynga (Archivo Diosesano del Cusco [1655], ff. 982v.-983). En 1655 el ayllu Yacanora obtuvo una provisión que le dispensaba del pago del tributo o de acudir a la mita, y que le permitía además gozar de otros privilegios. Esto hizo que el ayllu Zuczu interpusiera una demanda, señalando que sólo sus integrantes tenían el título de Ynga, y que por consiguiente solamente ellos tenían derecho a llevar la mascapaicha y el estandarte real en los actos públicos, dejando además en claro que a los yacanora no les correspondía este privilegio porque eran descendientes de Apo Saua Raura, quien fue uno de los capitanes generales de Viracocha Inca. Los yacanoras tuvieron que aceptar esto y por ello renunciaron a su pretensión de recibir privilegios. Lo mismo sucedió con el ayllu Ayarmaca, que también pretendía acceder a los privilegios del ayllu Zuczu. Los ayarmacas eran recordados como descendientes de Tocay Capac e Intimanya Sinche Chiguanguay, quienes también fueron generales de Viracocha Inca. Conclusiones De acuerdo al estudio del sistema de tenencia de tierras, el valle del Cusco, estaba organizada en dos grupos de la nobleza incacica. La primera, era la clase más alta conformado por los descendientes de los once gobernantes incas–desde Manco Capac hasta el Inca Huayna Capac– quienes conformaban los ayllus y panacas, denominados ayllus reales. El segundo grupo, estaba constituida, por aquellos que se reconocía como parientes lejanos de los incas–como es el ayllu Choco–o que tenían vinculo a algún antepasado mítico como es el caso de los ayllus Misca, Maras etc.; o los que destacaron como jefes, capitanes u hombres principales durante el proceso de integración del estado inca, como los Yacanoras o Ayarmacas. A ellos se les conocían como los ayllus no reales. Ambos grupos, aparentemente entremezclados, compartían los derechos a tierras distribuidos en diferentes pisos altitudinales, es decir en la parte baja del valle a tierras de Donato Amado Gonzáles Sistema de tenencia de tierras de ayllus 265 y panacas incas en el valle del Cusco, siglos XVI-XVII maíz y tierras de tubérculos en la parte alta (papas, ocas, años y lisas). Evidentemente las mejores tierras, acondicionados con sistemas de terrazas, canales de riego, accesibilidad a través de los caminos, eran las tierras de los ayllus y panacas de los descendientes de los gobernantes incas. Los ayllus y panacas reales y los ayllus no reales, estuvieron organizados de acuerdo a los principios de la dualidad andina como son: Hanan Cusco y Hurin Cusco. De acuerdo al sistema de ceques y huacas, el valle del Cusco estaba dividido en la siguiente forma: el Chinchaysuyo y el Antisuyo, formaban parte del espacio territorial de los Hanan Cusco. En cambio, el Collasuyu y el Cuntisuyo, constituían el territorio de los Hurin Cusco. De tal forma, entre el ultimo ceque del Antisuyo y el primer ceque del Collasuyo, se desplazaba el “Camino Antiguo de Huamantiana”, que era denominado el de Collasuyo, por consiguiente esta vía, en la parte Sur del valle del Cusco delimitaba entre Hanan y Hurin Cusco. Por otro lado, en la parte del oeste del valle, confluían en el Camino del Cuntisuyo o Camino Real de Corca, el último ceque del Cuntisuyo y el primer ceque del Chinchaysuyo, por ello, este camino en esta parte, dividía entre los Hanan y Hurin Cusco. En este entender, la distribución de la tenencia de las tierras de los ayllus y panacas de la descendencia de los gobernantes incas, lo hacían también siguiendo esta orden. En esta manera, en la parte del Chinchaysuyo, estaban las tierras de los descendientes del Inca Huayna Capac, de la descendencia del Tupac Inca Yupanqui, nombrados Capac Ayllu, y de los descendientes de Pachacutic Inca Yupanqui, señalados como Hatun Ayllu. Siguiendo este mismo orden y dirección, en la parte del Antisuyo, están las tierras del Ayllu Sucsu de Viracocha Inca, Ayllu Aucailli de Yahuar Huacac, Ayllu Vicaquirao de Inca Roca, Ayllu Apomayta de Capac Yupanqui, Ayllu Hahuainin de Lloque Yupanqui, Ayllu Raurau de Cinchi Roca y del Ayllu Chima de Manco Capac. En toda esta parte, la tenencia de tierras es predominantemente masculino y está vinculado a la denominación ayllu como: Ayllu Tomibamba, Capac Ayllo y Hatun Ayllo etc. En cambio en la parte Sur-Oeste del valle, se ubican el Collasuyo y el Cuntisuyo y representan a los Hurin Cusco. La distribución de las tierras va en orden invertido de los Hanan, de Sur a Oeste, en esta forma: tierras de Iñacapanca de la descendencia de Anahuarque, esposa de Pachacuti Inca Yupanqui, tierras de Aucaylle Panaca, tierras de Sucsu Panaca, tierras de Vicaquirao Panaca, tierras de Apomayta Panaca, tierras de Raurau Panaca, tierras de Chima Panaca, tierras de Hahuainin Panaca y tierras de Uscamayta Panaca. En este espacio hay un predominio de las tierras de las panacas o hermanas de los Incas. Es en esta misma orden es la distribución y tenencia de tierras para los ayllus no reales, con algunas excepciones en que los ayllus, 266 Cari, Yacanora y Ayarmaca forman parte de Hanan Cusco. En cambio, los ayllus Choco y Cachona pertenecen de los Hurin Cusco, como se podrá observar en el gráfico de la tenencia de tierra de los ayllus no regios del valle del Cusco. La relación entre los ayllus y panacas de los descendientes incas y los ayllus no reales, eran claramente establecidos. En el primer caso, se señalaban como descendientes directos por sangre del inca gobernante. En cambio en el segundo caso, descendían de algún general de un inca gobernante como es el caso del General Apo Sauaraura quien era uno de los generales de Viracocha Inca, cuya descendencia era llamado Ayllo Yacanora. Asimismo, la descendencia de Tocay Capac, fueron denominado Ayllo Ayarmaca. Otro caso importante, es el Ayllo Choco, aun siendo otorgadores de mujeres del inca, por la procedencia de Anahuarque, también fueron considerados dentro de los ayllus no reales. Finalmente, quizás a partir de esta relación, también se puede explicar la jerarquía social que en el sistema de ceques es señalado como: Collana, Payan y Cayao. En la distribución de los ceques del Antisuyo, el primer ceque es nombrado Collana y corresponde al Ayllu Sucso, que vendría ser de la descendencia de Viracocha Inca, en cambio, el segundo ceque es llamado Payan que habrían formado parte del parentesco más cercano, en cambio el tercero que era Cayao, eran parientes más lejanos. Es interesante constatar, que en las inmediaciones de las tierras del Ayllu Sucsus, están distribuidas las tierras del Ayllu Yacanora, Ayarmaca y Cari. Estos tres últimos, en la distribución de los ceques, ocupan el sétimo, octavo y el noveno ceque del Antisuyo, como dando entender el parentesco. Donato Amado Gonzáles Sistema de tenencia de tierras de ayllus 267 y panacas incas en el valle del Cusco, siglos XVI-XVII O b ra s c i t a d o s Do c u men t o s n o p u b l i c a d o s Amado Gonzales, Donato (2013), Las tierras de los ayllus no reales del valle del Cusco, siglos XVI-XVII, ponencia presentado en el seminario del Programa de Estudios Andinos, Písac, Perú, 1-6 de julio, Centro Académico de la Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú. Archivo Diocesano del Cusco (1655), Martin López de Paredes. Prot. 140. 1655. F. 981. Transacción y concierto entre los Yngas del ayllo Sucso con los indios de Yacanoras. En Cuzco 16 de enero de 1655. Archivo General de la Nación (1594), Fondo Campesinado. Títulos de Propiedad. Leg. 34. C. 660. f. 170. Títulos de tierras de Picchu en Cusco. Títulos de las tierras y punas denominados Piccho en término y jurisdicción de la ciudad del Cuzco que doña Teresa de Vergas viuda del Capitán Tomas Vázquez vecino dono por escritura de inter vivos en 14 de agosto de 1579 al colegio de la compañía de Jesús. Archivo Regional del Cusco (1584), Libro Número 1, de la Genealogía de Don Diego Felipe Betancur Tupa Amaro, con 854 folios. Registro Número, 21. Declaración que hicieron, en 16 de enero de 1584 Don García Tuiro Tupa Gualpa y otros consortes ante los Señores Damián de la Bandera y García de Melo jueces comisarios. Archivo Regional del Cusco (1584-1585), Quesada de Luis Prot. 10. F. 55. Doña María Coca Guaco y Doña María Cora Ocllo y Doña Catalina Choqui Cica y Doña Isabel Coca Guaco hijas de Don Paulo Ynga difunto por nos y en nombre de los de más mis hermanas a quienes están hecha merced de la coca de las chacras de Tono y Paucarbamba, otorgan poder a Francisco Ulecela cañar para que por nosotras y en nombre de las dichas nuestras hermanas pueda ir a la dicha provincia de los Andes y beneficie y coxa dichas chacaras de coca. O b ra s pu bl ic a da s Amado Gonzáles, Donato (2007), Sistema vial qollasuyu. Avances de investigación, Cusco: Instituto Nacional de Cultura, Dirección Regional de Cultura Cusco. Garcilaso de la Vega, Inca ([1609] 1945), Comentarios reales de los Incas, Buenos Aires: Emecé Editores. Molina (El Cusqueño), Cristóbal de ([1575] 1989), Relación de las fábulas y ritos de los incas, en: Henrique Urbano y Pierre Duviols (eds.), Fábulas y mitos de los incas, Madrid: Historia 16, pp. 47-134. Murúa, Fray Martin de ([1584] 1964), Historia General del Perú. Introducción y edición de Manuel Ballesteros Gaibrois. Crónicas de América. Madrid. Rowe, John H. (2003), La constitución inca del Cuzco, en: Los incas del Cuzco. Siglos XVI-XVII-XVIII, Cusco: Instituto Nacional de Cultura. Sarmiento de Gamboa, Pedro ([1572] 1965), Historia de los Incas. Segunda parte de la historia general llamada indica, Biblioteca de autores españoles, tomo 135, Madrid: Ediciones Atlas, pp. 193-279. Zuidema, R. Tom (2010), El calendario inca. Tiempo y espacio en la organización ritual del Cuzco, La idea del pasado, Lima: Fondo Editorial del Congreso del Perú y Fondo Editorial de la Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú. 268 K E R S T I N N O WA C K W H AT W O U L D H AV E H A P P E N E D A F T E R T H E I N C A C I V I L WA R ? Kerstin Nowack What Would Have Happened after the Inca Civil War? 269 What happened at the end of the Inca civil war between the two half-brothers Atagualpa and Guascar is well known. Guascar’s troops were defeated, and the victorious Atagualpa was captured by the Spaniards who unexpectedly arrived on the scene. Because of Atagualpa’s victory, many of Guascar’s adherents, both among the Inca elite and the subject peoples of the empire, supported the Spanish invaders, which greatly facilitated their conquest of the Inca realm (Hemming 1993). But what would have happened to the Inca empire if the Spaniards had not arrived? An answer to this question depends on the way the Inca empire and its political integration are viewed, and also what the observer judges the Inca civil war to be. Was it a succession crisis as habitually occurred in the Inca empire, or a conflict disclosing fundamental rifts in the structure of that empire? Would the winner, Atagualpa, have been able to consolidate the empire, or would the internal contradictions and structural problems the civil war had laid open have resulted in its decline? In other words, would there have been a consolidated empire that might have even survived an encounter with the Spaniards, if that had taken place twenty or fifty years later, or would there have been a decline or disintegration of the empire which was a singular, shortterm, unsustainable political formation in the Andes? An Improvised Empire 1 Rostworowski and Morris (1999), pp. 799-807. On Inca expansion, see Covey (2006), pp. 184-203; Pärssinen (1992), pp. 85-140; Rowe (1946). Julien (2000) compares the narrative accounts of the expansion. 2 D‘Altroy (1987), p. 3; Julien (1993), pp. 226, 227; Pärssinen (1992), pp. 408-410. On indirect versus direct rule, Kolata (2013), pp. 15-21. See Osterhammel (2013), pp. 608-615 for a deinition of empires. The Inca empire developed within a few generations from a local polity in southern highland Peru into the greatest political entity that existed in the Americas before the arrival of the Europeans (D’Altroy 2015; Pärssinen 1992; Rostworowski 1999; and, especially, Rostworowski and Morris 1999, p. 769). The Inca extended their rule over the Andes mostly by military conquests and political pressure on their potential opponents, so that often promises and privileges or threats alone were sufficient to gain their submission. 1 What the Inca created, is no longer seen as a monolithic, and completely hierarchically organized state, but an empire which flexibly integrated new polities into its realm, mostly ruling indirectly over its subject people. 2 Inca rule was adapted to the socio-political formations the Inca encountered among the ethnic groups that became part of their empire. New rulers forged new relationships with the subject groups, and even within the reign of a single ruler, relations could change when imperial politics 270 or local reactions to Inca rule required this. Ethnic groups and/or provinces differed in their status, and this status changed with time. 3 During the last decades of the empire, Inca rule might have become more formally bureaucratic, especially in the core areas of the empire. However, mostly the Inca ruled through local elites, not through an empire-wide hierarchy of officials. In conclusion, many scholars view the Inca empire as diverse, flexible, and continuously changing. Being less monolithic and less thoroughly organized can also be described as being less stable. The Inca empire was a conquest state still in a phase of expansion. It lacked time to consolidate and develop greater stability, and the stability which existed could be seen as the result of its expansionist policy. María Rostworowski argued that the Inca needed expansion to gain access to resources which fulfilled the expectations of Andean reciprocity that dispensed goods and privileges in exchange for the services rendered to the rulers (Rostworowski 1999, pp. 221, 222; Rostworowski and Morris 1999, pp. 776-778). To acquire goods for reciprocity and gift-giving, the Inca rulers had to initiate new conquests, but every new conquest created new obligations for those groups and persons who served as soldiers and military leaders (Rostworowski 1999, p. 222; Rostworowski and Morris 1999, pp. 843, 844). Geoffrey Conrad and Arthur A. Demarest wrote that Inca expansion was fueled by the practice called split inheritance. Inca rulers left their propertiesBpalaces, rural estates, provinces, and dependent peopleBto their descendants, who formed a group dedicated to the veneration of their ancestor’s mummy, while the successor of the deceased ruler only inherited the political power of his father, and had to amass new properties to install the future cult of his own mummy. This ultimately led to a territorial expansion exhausting the available resources and going beyond the Incas’ military and political capacities (Conrad and Demarest [1984] 1999, pp. 113-131). As these authors suggest, the practices which made Inca expansion possible also forced the Inca into a vicious circle where a new conquest automatically created the need for the following conquest. Campaigns lasted longer and became more costly, the Inca were forced to advance into difficult and foreign territories like the eastern slopes of the Andes, the growth of the empire tested the limits of the means of communication, the population became more diverse and difficult to control, and the practice of acquiring land for rulers in already conquered areas, or the reclamation of previously unused or little used land, intensified the extraction of resources from the 3 D‘Altroy (2015); Julien (1993), (1998), pp. 72-93. Ethnic groups and provinces often seem to be one and the same, but there were also provinces encompassing several ethnic groups. The terms are sometimes used as synonyms, and it has to be asked to what extent the deinition of provinces led to a clearer demarcation of ethnic groups (Wernke 2013, pp. 295, 296). Kerstin Nowack What Would Have Happened after the Inca Civil War? 271 provinces (ibid., pp. 126-131). Policies which originally helped the Inca to govern, like the promotion of ethnic diversity and indirect rule through local elites, proved to be a source of danger and conflicts (Rostworowski 1999, pp. 223-225). Measures taken to solve problems like the creation of specialized producers (camayoc) to fulfil reciprocal obligations, the resettlement of mitimaes across the empire to provide security and create new economic resources, or the establishment of yana, dependent households which directly served elite individuals or supernatural beings, increased the tribute burden of the remaining households in their home provinces (Rostworowski 1999, pp. 223, 226; Rostworowski and Morris 1999, p. 843; Rowe 1982). In this view, the Inca civil war was not a simple succession crisis as had occurred in various forms before (Rostworowski 1960), but an event which laid bare the fault lines in the empire’s institutions and practices. The event that brings into focus the apparent instability of the Inca empire is the rapid Spanish conquest. Documentary sources show how representatives of the local elites hurried to contact the Spaniards, informed themselves about their intentions and military capacity, and often decided to support them. Much of the cooperation can be explained by the outcome of the civil war, which made the Spaniards allies of the defeated faction of Guascar, but support for the Inca in general faltered and the later resistance against the Spanish during the war of Manco Inca was limited to the core areas of the empire in southern Peru. 4 In the moment the Spaniards arrived, the Inca empire apparently dissolved before their eyes. The Spaniards thus profited from arriving at the end of the civil war, as they themselves were well aware (for example, Zárate [1555] 1995, bk. 1, ch. 11, p. 61), but was the civil war really a forewarning of the eventual decline, or even breakdown of the empire? To answer this question, it is helpful to look at the events before, during and after this war. 4 Examples are the Guancas in central highland Peru (Espinoza Soriano 1972), groups in the Rimac valley (Espinoza Soriano 1983-84), and the Chachapoyas (Espinoza Soriano 1967). For Manco Inca‘s lack of support, see Nowack (2007), pp. 179, 180 and Oberem (1985). On Manco Inca‘s war in general, see Hemming (1993). 272 The Long Reign of Guayna Capac Guayna Capac ruled from about 1490 to 1524 or 1525. No major cases of rebellion are mentioned for this period. 5 The problems this ruler faced were related to his attempts at further expansion, for example in the Chachapoya area, among the Pacamoros in south-eastern Ecuador, and among groups in coastal Ecuador, and finally, of course, during his decade-long campaign in the northern highlands of Ecuador. Both Pedro de Cieza de León and Juan de Betanzos write that Guayna Capac started his reign with a long period of tranquility while he stayed in Cusco, probably because he was regarded as too young to rule and real power lay in the hands of his mother Mama Ocllo. 6 After Guayna Capac was declared to be no longer a minor, he strengthened his ties to the Inca nobility, built himself an estate in the Yucay Valley, and went hunting near Lake Titicaca. He embarked on his first military campaign, against the Chachapoya, only after his mother finally died. 7 Afterwards, Guayna Capac went on a visit of several years to the southern parts of his empire, meeting with the ruling elites, gathering information, and initiating projects like the Cochabamba Valley estate for maize growing. 8 The visit perhaps also served to satisfy Guayna Capac that the Inca empire had no neighbors worth conquering in the south. No information is given about a rebellion or unrest during this period. The following campaign to the north of Quito is then described as a reaction to a rebellion by a group of allies led by the Carangues, but it is much more likely that the people living there had rejected Inca demands for further incorporation into the empire, which the Inca interpreted as rebellious behavior. 9 During the ten or more years while he campaigned in the north, Guayna Capac ruled the Inca empire from his base at Tomebamba, or directly from his camp. He left two governors in Cusco, and due to the length of communication lines, they were probably responsible for the day-to-day running of the empire, especially in the south. 10 Guayna Capac received the supplies and reinforcement he needed, and in fact the only major resistance against the duration of the campaign came from his own nobility during the so-called “mutiny of the orejones” at Tomebamba. 11 After the successful end of the war against the Carangues and their allies, Guayna Capac did not hurry to return and resume control of the empire from his capital. Accounts vary, but he stayed in Ecuador, and he or his commanders embarked on new campaigns into Pasto territory and on the coast. 12 5 In contrast, Rostworowski states, “Perhaps Huayna Capac was the ruler who put down the greatest number of rebellions” (1999, p. 89). Niles (1999, p. 93) mentions rebellions of the Chachapoyas, the island Puná, and the Chiriguanos. The Chiriguanos had never become part of the Inca realm, and the accounts about the con ict describe it as an attack by Chiriguano warriors on Inca provinces, not as a rebellion by Inca subjects (Cabello Balboa [1586] 1951, bk. 3, ch. 23, pp. 383, 384; Murua [1616] 1987, bk. 1, ch. 36, p. 130; Sarmiento [1572] 1906, ch. 61, pp. 109, 110). Cieza states that, generally, provincial governors had the right and the responsibility to deal with local revolts (Cieza [1548-54] 1985, ch. 20, p. 80), and Agustín de Zárate mentions a major uprising among the Chimu which is not dated, nor, apparently, described by other sources (Zárate [1555] 1995, bk. 1, ch. 14, p. 59). There may have been other incidents as well, but we can only discuss what the sources tell us. In my view, nothing indicates that Guayna Capac‘s reign was especially unquiet. Cases of local resistance against Inca rule described in documentary sources recount attempts to harm the Inca rulers by magic, not open rebellions; see Espinoza Soriano (1967) and Rostworowski (1998) for a similar case targeting Tupac Inca. Kerstin Nowack 6 Betanzos ([1551-57] 2004), bk. 1, ch. 39, p. 211; bk. 1, ch. 40, pp. 213, 214; Cieza ([1548-1554] 1985), ch. 61, p. 177; Cobo ([1653] 1964), bk. 12, ch. 16, p. 88. 7 Betanzos describes this campaign as a separate event meant to honor Mama Ocllo ([1551] 2004), ch. 41-44, pp. 215-224. See also Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 20, p. 358; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 30, pp. 107, 108; Sarmiento ([1572] 1906), ch. 58, p. 104. Cieza makes the Chachapoya campaign a part of Guayna Capac‘s war in the north ([1548-54] 1985), ch. 63, pp. 183, 184. What Would Have Happened after the Inca Civil War? 8 Detailed account by Cieza ([1548-54] 1985), ch. 62, pp. 178-181. According to Betanzos, the trip took four years ([1551-57] 2004), bk. 1, ch. 44, pp. 225-227, ch. 46, p. 228. See Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 21, pp. 362, 363; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 30, pp. 108, 109; Sarmiento ([1572] 1906), ch. 59, pp. 104, 105. See Wachtel 1982. 9 Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 21, p. 365; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 30, p. 109; Oberem (1990), pp. 473, 474; Sarmiento ([1572] 1906), ch. 59, 60, p. 105. 10 Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 21, pp. 363, 364; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 31, pp. 111, 112; Sarmiento ([1572] 1906), ch. 60, p. 105. 11 Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 22, pp. 373-76; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 34, p. 122-125; Niles (1999), p. 103; Rostworowski (1999), p. 85; Sarmiento ([1572] 1906), ch. 60, p. 107. 12 Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 23, pp. 384-386, ch. 24, p. 393; Cieza ([1548-54] 1985), ch. 67, pp 192, 193; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk.1, ch. 37, pp. 131-134; Pachacuti Yamqui ([1613] 1993), f. 35v., 36r.; Sarmiento ([1572] 1906), ch. 62, pp. 110, 111. 273 274 The Succession of Guayna Capac 13 The events following Guayna Capac’s death in Ecuador indicate as well that the empire’s subjects remained peaceful. The ruler had no son from his marriage with his sister-wife. 13 He also refused to nominate a successor among his sons by secondary wives until it was too late (Betanzos [1551-57] 2004, bk. 1, ch. 46, pp. 228, 229). Still, the transition to his son Guascar at first was astonishingly smooth, greatly aided by the fact that the son’s mother, Ragua Ocllo, had been the favorite wife of Guayna Capac and accompanied him on his campaign. She informed Guascar, who had stayed at Cusco, that he should install himself as the new ruler. 14 Guascar was aware that one of his brothers could contest his rule, and he was especially distrustful of Atagualpa, the brother who had been on the side of their father during the Ecuadorian wars. While most family members traveled back to Cusco with the mummified body of Guayna Capac, Atagualpa stayed in the north. 15 Betanzos ([1551-57] 2004), p. 241. The principal wife or coya had been called Cusi Rimay (Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 20, p. 360; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 29, p. 107; Pachacuti Yamqui ([1613] 1993), f. 31r, v.; Sarmiento ([1572] 1906), ch. 60, pp. 105. On the introduction and purposes of Inca sister marriage see, Julien (2000), pp. 259-261. 14 Betanzos ([1551-57] 2004), bk. 1, ch. 47, p. 235, bk. 2, ch. 1, p. 243. See also Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 25, p. 398; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 39, pp. 141, 142, ch. 40, pp. 142-145; Pizarro ([1571] 1978), ch. 10, pp. 50, 51; Sarmiento ([1572] 1906), ch. 62, p. 111, ch. 63, pp. 112, 113. 15 It can be doubted that the situation would have been less problematic if Guayna Capac had had an undisputed heir with his principal wife. He himself had been the heir designated by his grandfather Pachacuti, 16 and still there had been two serious attempts at the beginning of his reign to supplant him as the ruler of his empire. 17 In comparison, the assumption of power by Guascar was hardly more contentious, even if he regarded it as necessary to eliminate some of his brothers, and ordered the killing of high-ranking relatives as a punishment for leaving Atagualpa in Quito. 18 There is no information about unrest or revolts in the Inca empire. In fact, the empire gave the impression of an overall tranquility, as Cieza noted (Cieza [1548-54] 1985, ch. 69, p. 196). Cieza writes that the military leaders of Guayna Capac had not wanted to come to Cusco and lose what they had acquired (in properties and positions?) in Quito ([154854] 1985), ch. 70, p. 198. Cobo interprets the situation in a similar manner ([1653] 1964), bk. 12, ch. 18, p. 95. Guayna Capac was the son of the irst ruler who married his half-sister (Betanzos ([1551-57] 2004), bk. 1, ch. 26, p. 167, ch. 27, pp. 168-170; Julien (2000), pp. 29, 30, 259261. 16 17 Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 20, pp. 357, 358; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 26, p. 99, bk. 1, ch. 28, pp. 101, 102, bk. 1, ch. 29, pp. 103-106; Pachacuti Yamqui ([1613] 1993), f. 30r.-31r.; Sarmiento ([1572] 1906), ch. 54, p. 102, ch. 55, p. 103. A discussion of these events is found in Niles (1999), pp. 88-92 and Zíólkowski (1996), pp. 301-322. 18 Betanzos ([1551-57] 2004), bk. 2, ch. 1, pp. 243, 244, bk. 2, ch. 2, p. 247, bk. 2, ch. 3, p. 249; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 39, p. 141, bk. 1, ch. 40, pp. 142-145. Kerstin Nowack What Would Have Happened after the Inca Civil War? 275 The Civil War 19 This might partly be due to the geography of the empire. As long as the provinces in the center and north of Peru stayed loyal to Guascar, it was diicult for anybody south of Ecuador to come into contact with Atagualpa. The apparent exception is Chincha, a valley on the south coast of Peru, whose ruler supposedly was in Cajamarca at the side of Atagualpa (Pizarro [1571] 1978, ch. 9, pp. 37-39). He may have declared his support after Atagualpa‘s victory became foreseeable, when Guascar‘s troops had already been forced farther to the south, and he could travel to Atagualpa. 20 For Cañari involvement in the initial stages of the civil war see, for example, Betanzos ([1551-57] 2004), bk. 2, ch. 4, pp. 251, 252; Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 26, p. 407, ch. 27, pp. 421, 423, ch. 28, p. 432; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 46, pp. 163, 165, 166; Pachacuti Yamqui ([1613] 1993), f. 37r. 21 For example, the Spaniards found wellsupplied storehouse at Cajas, Cajamarca, and Jauja (Cieza [1548-54] 1985, ch. 12, pp. 59, 60; Espinoza Soriano 1972; Xerez [1535] 1988, pp. 86-88, 116). There are cases where building projects had been interrupted, but this could also have been the result of the subsequent invasion of the Spanish, and not due to the civil war (Morris and Thompson 1985, p. 56; Ogburn 2004; Protzen 2005). 22 Nowack (2011). The sources do not agree who were the targets of these military eforts, and Atagualpa‘s expeditions are partly described as attempts to quell rebellions, again probably an Inca interpretation of the events, because the areas like the Pasto territory on the Colombian border, or the Quijo territory east of Quito, had not been under their control previously. During the civil war, most of the Inca empire apparently remained quiet. Guascar routinely recruited troops in the central and southern parts of the empire, and the local rulers acceded to his demands. There are no reports that any ethnic groups used the opportunity to rebel, or, alternatively, to side with Atagualpa. 19 The only evidence for independent political activities comes from southern Ecuador and the nearby coastal areas. The Cañaris, according to some accounts, incited Guascar and Atagualpa against each other, perhaps with the greater aim of freeing themselves from their Inca overlords in the resulting conflict. Ultimately, they choose Guascar’s side, and were severely punished for this miscalculation. 20 The second report of local unrest concerns the island of Puná and the town of Tumbes. As the Spanish observed, the island’s inhabitants and the population of Tumbes had waged war against each other, either acting as substitutes of the parties of the civil war, or independently, using the opportunity of the war to rekindle old enmities (Pizarro [1571] 1978, ch. 5, p. 17, ch. 6, p. 22; Xerez [1534] 1988, p, 76). On the whole, most of the ethnic groups in the Inca empire stayed quiet and yielded to the demands of the warring parties. The Inca empire during the civil war displayed no evidence of dissolution, and the Inca administrative apparatus continued to function. 21 Even more astonishing, at the beginning of the war, Atagualpa and Guascar engaged in what I have called “secondary wars”. Guascar sent troops against the Chachapoyas when the conflict with Atagualpa became foreseeable, and after the first battles, Guanca Auqui, Guascar’s commander, found time to attack the Pacamoros (Bracamoros) located on the slopes of the Andes in southeast Ecuador, while Atagualpa personally directed (or sent military leaders on) various campaigns on the western and eastern flanks of the Ecuadorian Andes. 22 276 After the War Atagualpa’s party executed a terrible revenge against everybody who had sided with Guascar: ethnic groups and their leaders, members of the Inca nobility, and supernatural beings. 23 The first group to be punished were the Cañaris in southern Ecuador. Several of their leaders were killed and, at least according to Betanzos, symbolically eaten by Quillacinga warriors from the eastern lowlands (Nowack 2013a). Many other Cañaris either died, or were forced to leave their homeland and resettle elsewhere. After the last battle, captured soldiers from the Cañari groups were executed as a punishment for their support of Guascar. The same happened to the Chachapoyas caught during the final defeat. 24 A third group singled out for special acts of revenge were the Guancas from the central Peruvian highlands, mostly because the mother of Guascar’s commander, Guanca Auqui, was a member of this ethnic group. 25 Human beings were not the only targets of Atagualpa’s wrath. The powerful huaca of Catequil in Guamachuco had admonished him for the excessive brutality with which he treated his enemies. As a result, Atagualpa personally visited the sanctuary, killed the priest and spokesperson of the Catequil, and ordered the huaca to be destroyed. 26 An even more important supernatural was Pachacamac, the creator deity and lord of earthquakes from the central coast of Peru. He had enraged Atagualpa with predictions about Guayna Capac’s death and Guascar’s success, and when Atagualpa became a prisoner of the Spanish, he sent them to plunder Pachacamac’s temple for his ransom (Pizarro [1571] 1973, ch. 11, pp. 57, 58). Turning to the Inca themselves, direct victims of Atagualpa’s revenge were Guascar’s secondary wives and their children. They were killed after his troops occupied Cusco. Guascar’s mother and his principal wife, as well as his supreme military leader, Guanca Auqui, were caught and kept as prisoners. Whatever were the plans for them, they later died together with Guascar. Other noble supporters were allowed to live and were punished by blows on the back, while the whole nobility of Cusco was forced to render allegiance to Atagualpa (represented by a statue). 27 A special treatment was reserved for the descent group (panaca) of Tupac Inca. Its members had supported Guascar, 28 and the adults were killed and the mummy of Tupac Inca, an important holy object and the visible legitimation of the panaca’s status, was burned in revenge. 29 23 Had he won the war, Guascar would have hardly behaved with greater restraint. When Guascar‘s military leaders were momentarily victorious and caught Chalcochima‘s and Quizquiz‘s families, they ordered them to be killed (Betanzos [1551-57] 2004, bk. 2, ch.13, pp. 276, 277). 24 Betanzos ([1551-57] 2004), bk. 2, ch. 4, p. 253, bk. 2, ch. 5, pp. 255, 256, bk. 2, ch. 7, p. 263, bk. 2, ch. 9, pp. 267-269; Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 28, pp. 432, 435, bk. 3, ch. 31, p. 462; Cieza ([1548-54] 1985), ch. 72, p. 201, ch. 73, p. 204; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 48, p. 171, bk. 1, ch. 50, p. 177, bk. 1, ch. 56, p. 200; Pachacuti Yamqui ([1613] 1993), f. 38r. It is not quite clear why the Chachapoyas deserved this special treatment, because other soldiers ighting for Guascar were apparently allowed to return to their homes unmolested. Kerstin Nowack What Would Have Happened after the Inca Civil War? 25 His name suggests this descent, apparently from a secondary wife of Guayna Capac. It was an Inca custom to name a person after his or her birthplace or the ethnic origin of the mother, see Garcilaso ([1609] 1995, bk. 1, ch. 26, p. 63), and Pachacuti Yamqui conirms this by saying that Guanca Auqui was feasted by the Guancas, his uncles ([1613] 1993, f. 38v). For Atagualpa‘s revenge, see Betanzos ([155157] 2004, bk. 2, ch. 8, p. 264; Cieza [154854] 1986, ch. 46, p. 161; Murúa [1616] 1987, bk. 1, ch. 63, p. 118; Pizarro [1571] 1978, ch. 11, p. 58). The Guancas were strategically located on the main route between the Inca heartland and the northern regions of the empire, but their support of Guascar is not more exceptional than that of other major groups in the central-southern highlands, for example the Yauyos, Soras, Lucanas etc. (Cieza [1548-54] 1986, ch. 39, p. 141; Murúa [1616] 1987, bk. 1, ch. 52, p. 184; Pachacuti Yamqui [1613] 1993, f. 38v) The punishment reserved for the Guancas seems to have been a consequence of Guanca Auqui‘s involvement. It should be noted that Atagualpa also punished the Paltas in southern Ecuador who did not actively ight him, but apparently refused to cooperate (Betanzos [1551-57] 2004, bk. 2, ch. 9, pp. 268, 269), and subdued a rebellion in the valley of Saña on the coast (Betanzos [155157] 2004, bk. 2, ch. 10, p. 270). 28 26 Betanzos ([1551-57] 2004), bk. 2, ch. 16, pp. 286, 287. See also Sarmiento ([1562] 1906), ch. 64, pp. 116, 117. A local source conirms this information, see Castro de Trelles (ed.) ([1560-61] 1992), p. 20. 27 Betanzos ([1551-57] 2004), bk. 2, ch. 16, p. 288, bk. 2, ch. 18, pp. 294, 295, bk. 2, ch. 19, pp. 296-298; Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 31, pp. 459-463; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 54, pp. 193, 194, bk. 1, ch. 55, pp. 194-196, bk. 1, ch. 57, pp. 200-203; Sarmiento ([1572] 1906), ch. 64, pp. 120, 121, ch. 66, pp. 122-123. The killings are noted by other sources as well, but mostly with few details, see, for example, Pizarro ([1571] 1978), ch. 11, p. 59. This is mostly an assumption, because sources call Ragua Ocllo, Guascar‘s mother, a sister of Guayna Capac, which makes her a member of Tupac Inca‘s panaca (see for example Murúa [1616] 1987, bk. 1, ch. 31, p. 112, bk. 1, ch. 44, pp. 151-155). The exception is Betanzos. According to him, Ragua Ocllo‘s principal descent was from Hurin Cusco. He is also very clear that Atagualpa‘s mother came from Pachacuti‘s panaca ([1551-57] 2004, bk. 1, ch. 46, p. 229). 29 Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 31, p. 464; Sarmiento ([1572] 1906), ch. 66, p. 123; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 57, pp. 202, 203. As Ziólkowski (1996, p. 351) notes, the burning of the mummy was like the destruction of the founding document of this panaca. The incineration only makes sense when it is seen as a punishment for political choices of Tupac Inca‘s descendants. 277 278 What Would Have Happened? These and other elaborate public acts of punishment served as a warning and prognosis of the fate of those individuals and groups who had challenged the winner’s power. Consequently, one of the principal tasks of Atagualpa would have been to rebuild his relations with the Inca and provincial elites who had opposed him. Both the ethnic groups and Inca nobles belonging to Guascar’s party needed prospects for personal and political survival. If they had to fear continuously for their lives and positions, they were more likely to resist Atagualpa’s rule, would have needed more supervision, and thereby would have produced additional costs for the Inca empire. 30 If ethnic groups like the Cañaris and Guancas lost too many of their adult members due to killings or resettlement, they would not be able to supply the Inca state with labor services. Human beings were a valuable resource, and the Inca usually avoided excesses of killing and destruction during their wars. It can be assumed that Atagualpa was not planning to continue his policy of revenge. For example, his military leaders apparently allowed the ordinary soldiers from Guascar’s army to return to their homelands unharmed. Especially the ethnic groups in the Collasuyu quarter would not have expected to be severely punished, because they had hardly any alternative other than to give in to Guascar’s demands for troops and supplies. Atagualpa did not only face enemies. During the period of rebuilding, he could rely on the loyalty of his troops from central and northern Ecuador, as well as on the powerful panaca of Pachacuti. However, all of them expected to be rewarded for their support. Atagualpa had to be careful when he dealt with his military leaders, especially with Chalcochima and Quizquiz. He had to find adequate ways to bind them permanently to him, for example by honoring them with privileges like the right to be carried in a litter, and he had to make sure that these leaders did not use their ties to the soldiers under their command to overthrow Inca rule and become independent war lords. 31 Such a danger was not completely unimaginable, and might be the reason why Atagualpa kept significant military forces at his side, and why he gave the command of his advancing forces to Chalcochima and Quizquiz. 32 The choice of two commanders may have had tactical reasons – this command structure allowed them more complex maneuvers because forces could be divided between the leaders. However, it may also have been a measure to prevent an accumulation of power in the hands of a single person. 30 My idea of costs goes back to an argument developed by Tainter (1988), p. 93. 31 See Hemming (1993), p. 147 about another commander‘s activities in Ecuador during the Spanish conquest. Murúa writes that Quizquiz was the “general” and Chalcochima his “teniente” (lieutenant) and “maese de campo” (ield commander) ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 51, p. 181. Betanzos calls these two and others the “capitanes” of Atagualpa ([1551-57] 2004), bk. 2, ch. 4, p. 251, but lists Quizquiz irst. Sarmiento does the same ([1572] 1906), ch. 63, p. 113. In most accounts, the two leaders seem to have acted as near equals. 32 Kerstin Nowack What Would Have Happened after the Inca Civil War? 279 According to Betanzos, a conflict broke out between Atagualpa and Chalcochima at the end of the war when his commanders were involved in hard fighting with Guascar’s army on their approach to Cusco. As Betanzos describes it, Chalcochima sent a messenger to Atagualpa asking for new supplies of weapons. Atagualpa became very angry and would have killed the messenger if he had not been a close relative of his. He felt that Chalcochima’s request undermined his authority (Betanzos [1551-57] 2004, bk. 2, ch. 10, p. 270; Ziólkowski 1996, pp. 362-365). When the messenger tried to explain about the difficult battles before, Atagualpa replied that the troops had been victorious and could have taken the arms of the defeated enemies. He then gave order that a principal lord with twenty men should march south to apprehend Chalcochima. The lord dispatched did not hurry to reach Chalcochima, and decided to wait at Xauxa for a new order or Atagualpa’s personal arrival (Betanzos [1551-57] 2004, bk. 2, ch. 10, p. 271). Nothing came of this episode, and Atagualpa seems to have accepted that Chalcochima kept his command. While rewarding his loyal supporters, Atagualpa also had to be careful not to lavish too many honors and privileges on his northern followers, because he was increasing an existing imbalance in the Inca empire. When his father had spent ten years on his campaigns in Ecuador, the power center of the empire had shifted to the north (D’Altroy 2015, pp. 361). The Inca empire was conceptually and ritually oriented toward the person of the ruler and the capital Cusco. 33 Both could create doubles of themselves, with governors representing the ruler and cities serving as “other Cuscos” (Guaman Poma [ca. 1615] 1987, f. 185 [187]; Hyslop 1990, pp. 303-306). Tomebamba apparently had become such an “other Cusco”, but the symbolic value of these replacement places and persons depended on the supreme significance of the originals. For ten years, the inhabitants of Cusco, as well as the provinces from central Peru to the southern margin of the empire, had to content themselves with surrogates that represented the ruler at Cusco. 33 For Cusco as the sacred center see Julien (1998), pp. 34-45; Julien (2000), pp. 256-258. 34 Betanzos ([1551-57] 2004), bk. 2, ch. 16, p. 288, bk. 1, ch. 19, p. 299. This becomes important in view of a second extraordinary event reported by Betanzos. While dealing with the huaca of Catequil in Guamachuco, Atagualpa detailed his revenge plans for Guascar’s family, and added that he would return to Cajamarca and that Chalcochima and Quizquiz should depopulate Cusco and its environs, and send all the inhabitants to him, because he planned to return to Quito to build a new Cusco there. Betanzos continues his account saying that Atagualpa’s order were faithfully executed, and that the two military leaders assembled the rulers of the ethnic groups telling them that they and their people had to go to Quito and gave them twenty days to prepare for the journey. 34 280 The resettlement ordered by Atagualpa might be nothing more than the selection of mitimaes from these groups, an interpretation supported by Xerez who wrote that 4,000 married men from the Cusco region had been assigned to move to the area of Tomebamba. Xerez also reports that Atagualpa planned to return to his homeland to have some rest (Xerez [1534] 1988, p. 122). Apart from these direct statements, it is notable that Atagualpa did not advance with any urgency in the direction of Cusco, and that he traveled back from Guamachuco to Cajamarca. What Atagualpa wanted most was to meet his brother – and the defeated ruler was being transported to him when the Spaniards intervened. 35 This seems to confirm Betanzos’s account. Although the sources say that Atagualpa had been inaugurated as a ruler somewhere in Ecuador (they do not agree where and when), to become a legitimate ruler a ritual investiture in Cusco seemed to be necessary. This would also have been the occasion for Atagualpa to take one of his half-sisters as a principal wife. 36 It is hard to believe that Atagualpa would forgo the chance to legitimize his rule by a properly staged ritual in Cusco, and it seems to be inconceivable that Atagualpa intended to forsake the capital favor of a new center at the far end of the realm, in view of the centrality of Cusco in Inca religious ideology, the empire’s geographical extension, and the communication technology available. 37 Betanzos’s report of Atagualpa’s plans remains enigmatic. The Stability of the Inca Empire Nothing can be said about the contingencies which might have befallen the Inca empire. Atagualpa could have died from an illness. He had no adult sons, especially none from a high-ranking wife, and if the sons of Guayna Capac continued to be killed at the rate they had, there would hardly have been anybody left with enough legitimation and power to succeed. This could have led to further internal strife and could have resulted in a complete reconfiguration of the empire. On the other hand, the creativity and flexibility of the Inca political system should not be underestimated. After the crisis of civil war and intervention of the Spanish, the Inca were still able to produce able politicians and military commanders, as the war organized by Manco Inca shows (Hemming 1993). It is not evident that the Inca would not have been able to deal with the problems that arose during the last two decades of their rule. 35 Betanzos ([1551-57] 2004), bk. 2, ch. 16, p. 288; Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 32, p. 465; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 68, pp. 206; Sarmiento ([1572] 1906), ch. 67, p. 124. Betanzos‘s self-serving claims that his wife Doña Angelina had been Atagualpa‘s wife should be ignored (see Nowack 2002). 36 37 Julien (1998), pp. 34-45; Rostworowski and Morris (1999), pp. 786-791. One explanation could be that Atagualpa intended to embark on a campaign of conquests in the north so that he could later enter Cusco accompanied by booty and prisoners, as it behooved an Inca ruler. Kerstin Nowack What Would Have Happened after the Inca Civil War? 281 These problems can be divided into those within the Inca elite and those within the empire on the whole. Problematic within the Inca elite was the nomination of a successor and the transferal of power to the next generation. This was, however, a problem common to all imperial systems ruled by monarchs, and not specific to the Inca. Monarchies always veered between the alternatives of having too few or too many potential heirs. If the ruler restricted the number of candidates by determining that only one woman could be the mother of the heir, then there existed the danger that no surviving son would be available, as it happened with Guayna Capac. Alternatively, children by different women could inherit, which nearly inevitably would lead to conflicts between the sons, aided by their mothers’ families. This was the cause of the civil war. The Inca had already recognized the possibly catastrophic consequence of this dilemma and tried to solve it by the introduction of sister marriage. 38 This did not prevent a new succession conflict, which then escalated into a civil war, but the war ended with a victory by one of the contenders, not with the collapse of the empire. In addition, Pachacuti at irst had nominated his son Amaro Tupac as his successor, but later replaced him with Tupac Inca. Amaro Tupac then became a member of Tupac Inca‘s descent group instead of his father‘s. It was a political solution which tied Amaro Tupac‘s interests to the fate of his brother, a possible way to compensate a rival in future succession con icts (Nowack 2002; Rowe 1985a). 38 39 Cabello Balboa ([1586] 1951), bk. 3, ch. 22, pp. 373-76; Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 34, pp. 122-125; Sarmiento ([1572] 1906), ch. 60, p. 107. The increasing power of the panaca has also been cited as a potential source of unsolvable conflicts. The panaca served as interest groups who competed for influence over the person of the ruler and amassed landholdings and retainers. Guascar realized that they had become a threat for the integrity of the empire, and threatened to take their land away (Pizarro [1571] 1978, ch. 10, pp. 52-54). Before him, Guayna Capac had already discovered that the Inca nobility enjoyed privileges it no longer deserved. His nobles had deserted him in a battle, and when he punished them later by withholding the accustomed supplies, they threatened to leave his campaign and return to Cusco. Guayna Capac had to relent, and pleaded them to stay, distributing gifts and supplies. 39 However, it can be asked if Guayna Capac really lost this power struggle, because ultimately he had shown the Inca nobility its dependence on him. The nobles might threaten to leave, but in a long and complicated campaign like that against the Carangue alliance more was needed than the fighting power and leadership of their limited numbers. The empire at this point was consolidated to an extent that Guayna Capac could draw on other resources – troops and leaders from subject groups or on newly invented religious forms like the cult of his mother which he established at the beginning of the campaign and invoked at the moment of the conflict. He thus overcame the nobles’ resistance and was ultimately victorious in his campaign (D’Altroy 2015, pp. 105, 106; Ziólkowski 1996, pp. 203, 204). 282 When Atagualpa ordered the destruction of Tupac Inca’s descent group, this could be seen as a punishment for the panaca’s political decisions, but this act allowed him to eliminate one of the most powerful and richest descent groups, and gave him land and people to distribute afterwards. At the same time, the annihilation of Tupac Inca’s panaca taught the whole Inca nobility that it was expendable. The power of the panaca was not an insurmountable obstacle to Inca rule. It could be checked, and the last three rulers, Guayna Capac, Guascar, and Atagualpa apparently already attempted to limit the nobility’s power. For administrative and military personnel, rulers could rely on other groups like the incas de privilegio (honorary Incas) in the environs of Cusco. 40 Turning to the empire as a whole, as described in the studies reviewed at the beginning of this essay, future Inca rulers faced a number of problems: limits on human and land resources, an increasing number of mitimaes and yana, lack of cohesion within the empire and little identification with it, provincial rebellions, and rising costs of military campaigns. In many ways, these problems can be subsumed under the term overextension. 41 By the time the Spanish arrived, the extension of the territory and the number of subjects apparently had reached the limits the Inca were able to control with their means of communication, their military technology, and their economic system. However, whether the resources, either human or territorial, within the empire were really reaching their limits is difficult to say on the basis of the studies available. For example, it is not known how much land was left that could be used for cultivation and herding, but, for example, the large-scale project in Cochabamba involving 14,000 mita workers from the adjacent highlands shows that the Inca had recognized the need to develop new sources of revenue for their state (D’Altroy 2015, p. 401). Guascar also appears to have tapped into new resources for the rulers. According to Murúa, he took the Yauyos, Cajas, Huambos, Chumbivilcas, Canas, and Soras (of highland Bolivia) as “aylloscas”, that is, as personal properties. 42 The scale of Guascar’s acquisitions was completely new, because they included whole provinces. If this is true, Guascar initiated a new policy, probably to win resources for himself, but perhaps also as part of his attempt to curb the power of the panaca. Whatever the exact background, this example again indicates that Inca institutions and practices were flexible enough to accommodate new situations. The strain on the available resources might still have been too great. On the coast, people questioned about Inca rule explained that had the Spaniards come a little later, everything 40 Even ritual systems like the association of Cusco‘s ceques and huacas with the panacas and non-royal ayllus were adaptable to changes and new situations, as Rowe‘s (1985b) reconstruction of the developmental stages of the ceque system shows. 41 What Tainter (1988, p. 125) wrote applies to an overextended empire, “A complex society pursuing the expansion option, if it is successful, ultimately reaches a point where further expansion requires too high a marginal cost. Linear miles of borders to be defended, size of area to be administered, size of the required administration, internal paciication costs, travel distance between the capital and the frontier, and the presence of competitors combine to exert a depressing efect on further growth.” “Once conquered, subject lands and their populations must be controlled, administered, and defended. Given enough time, subject populations often achieve, at least partially, the status of citizens, which entitles them to certain beneits in return for their contributions to the hierarchy, and makes them less suitable for exploitation” (p. 126). 42 Guascar‘s properties: Murúa ([1616] 1987), bk. 1, ch. 46, p. 163. The aylloscas were won from the sun by a game with a bola and a cord in a ritual which allowed the appropriation of land for an individual person. See Albornoz ([1583-84] 1984), p. 201; Ziólkowski (1996), pp. 257-285. On Tupac Inca‘s properties and this game see Cobo ([1653] 1964), bk. 12, ch. 15, pp. 86, 87; D‘Altroy (2015) pp. 214-244; Julien (1993), p. 184. Kerstin Nowack What Would Have Happened after the Inca Civil War? 283 would have belonged to the sun, the Inca rulers and their wives, or the huacas, because all of them needed personnel, houses, and fields (Castro and Ortega Morejón [1558] 1936, p. 239). This single remark is impressionistic, but this might have been the situation as seen from the local perspective. In the long run, it is not unthinkable that the demands by the Inca government would have over-exploited the empire and its subjects. The burden of Inca extractions was not only felt by the common ayllu members, but also by the local elites. They lost influence and power, and the more resources were directed towards the Inca, the less were left for them. The extent of these expropriations differed probably from province to province, and it is not clear if territorial losses affected the elite and commoners alike. In addition, the control of more and more inhabitants in the empire was taken over directly by the Inca, like in the case of yana retainers and mitimaes, and was lost to the local elites. This has been cited as another instance of stress within the fabric of the Inca empire, but again, the consequences are far from obvious (for local elites see Rostworowski 1999, pp. 225, 226; for yana and mitimaes: p. 223). A weakening of local power structures might have been compensated by an increasing reliance on a formal bureaucracy. Indicative of widespread dissatisfaction with Inca rule might be that with the arrival of the Spanish, many members of the local elites tried to regain their former independence. As it seems, independent rule outweighed the advantages of belonging to the Inca empire. But this was an empire in a process of disintegration and in a moment of transition, and such a decision is not the same as a willingness to rebel against a fully functioning state. The rapid break-up of the empire emphasizes the lack of cohesion and identification with the Inca which are also cited as endangering the stability of Inca rule. It is probable that the Inca did not agree with this view, because they regarded the retaining of ethnic differences as important for the welfare of their state. Diversity prevented their subjects from uniting against them (Nowack 2013b; Rostworowski 1993; Topic 1998). Even if, as Rowe argued, the rising number of yana and mitimaes ultimately contributed to a dissolution of ethnic ties, this was not a result the Inca welcomed. They seem to have seen greater disadvantages than advantages in such a situation. This does not mean that the Inca were completely uninterested in presenting their empire as an integrated whole. Its name, Tahuantinsuyu, indicates such a generalized concept of their realm, as does the development of standardized styles in architecture, 284 textiles, and ceramics. It can also be assumed that the Inca developed a meta-version of Andean origin myths, where the god Viracocha created the ancestors of the different ethnic groups and then sent them underground to their places of emergence (pacarinas). 43 On the question of cultural unity and ethnic diversity, a conclusion is difficult. Inca policies worked – consciously and unconsciously – in both directions, favoring diversity and eradicating it as well. 44 The civil war could also be viewed as a result of the empire’s size. Guayna Capac was absent from Cusco for about a decade and because of this absence practically installed a second seat of government in Ecuador. His potential successors were also distributed between Ecuador and Cusco, thus creating a situation that made the following civil war possible. Because of his long absence, Guayna Capac failed to select a successor because he had not met the sons left in Cusco during this time, and apparently wanted to satisfy himself about their potential as rulers before he made his choice. This initial situation turned what was traditionally a conflict among the nobility of Cusco into an empire-wide contest. Over-extension also forced the Inca to rely increasingly on professional soldiers who were no longer members of the Inca nobility. The principal commanders of Atagualpa, Quizquiz and Chalcochima, belonged to this group. 45 This was a great novelty, because Inca armies traditionally were commanded by close relatives of the ruler. Guascar still adhered to this practice and his commander Guanca Auqui was his half-brother. Atagualpa’s selection of personnel points to a greater professionalization of the Inca army. 43 Molina ([1572-1576] 2010), pp. 36, 37. This myth allowed for the continuance of the local origin myths, and provided an explanation for the ethnic diversity within the empire and a commonality among all Inca subjects. 44 It can also be asked if cultural unity under all circumstances contributes to the stability of a state. Diversity was characteristic of empires, empires often lasted for centuries, and, thus, the continued existence of diversity did not automatically lead to the downfall of empires. 45 This finally leads to the last major problem resulting from the size of the Inca empire: There was hardly any territory left to conquer. The empire seems to have reached the limits of its extension. Only to the north, beyond the Carangues and their allies, lived people that were worth the efforts of a conquest. 46 Already the conquest of the Carangues had proven to be extremely costly. Extending Inca rule into the territory of modern Columbia would have stretched the lines of communication and supply even more. Other territories were even less promising, mostly because of the terrain and relative low density of population which made such conquest difficult and not very profitable. It can be argued that the Inca were forced to continue their policy of expansion because they were only able to stay in power as along as their subjects were occupied with new The origin places of these men are not known. Strangely, Murúa mentions the origins of two other commanders, Yura Hualpa who was a “natural chirque” (of the Chilque ethnic group) and Rumi Ñaui who came from “quiles cache” ([1616] 1987, bk. 1, ch. 51, p. 181). According to Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala ([ca. 1615] 1987), both groups belonged to the group of honorary Inca (see for example f. 337 [339]). 46 Cieza mentioned rumors that Guayna Capac had planned to expand further to the north and that this was one of the reasons why he left Atagualpa as governor of Quito (Cieza [1548-54] 1985, ch. 68, p. 194). Kerstin Nowack What Would Have Happened after the Inca Civil War? 285 conquests (Demandt 1997, pp. 223, 224). Due to their constant warfare, the Inca had a combat-trained army at hand which was useful to prevent provincials from rebelling. However, troops were raised for individual military campaigns and disbanded when they were no longer needed. If the Inca had forsaken new wars of conquest, they probably would have had to finance a standing army (Kuchler 2013, p 53). A policy of consolidation was perhaps costly, but there are several arguments for a favorable outcome. The Inca empire had no rivals, and had to fear no known outside threats. The slowness of communication that hampered Inca expansion also protected the empire, because the news of a defeat, of a failed campaign, or other problems could not spread rapidly. The Inca empire was not under constant surveillance by its subjects and potential outside enemies who waited for a sign of weakness. It could accept a defeat, or an unsuccessful offensive with a certain equanimity. If no new conquests took place in the future, this was not necessarily perceived as a weakness which provoked every provincial lord to rebel (Kuchler 2013, pp. 154-163). There is no reason to become obsessed with the notion of collapse. The worst enemies of empires, as the German historian Jürgen Osterhammel wrote, are other empires (Osterhammel 2013, p. 615). Empires without rivals were usually quite stable, and the predecessors of the Inca, the empires of the Wari and Chimu apparently lasted for several hundred years. Even if the Inca empire would have entered a stage of stagnation, this could have meant that it lost marginal provinces or, broke up into several states, but not necessarily collapse and disappearance (Demandt 1997, p. 224). Without the arrival of the Spaniards, it is imaginable that Inca rule over the Andes would have continued for one, two, or more centuries. To answer the question posed in this articles’s title: What would have happened is that the Inca would have solved their problems to an extent that would have allowed the empire to continue. 286 My heartfelt thanks go to Inés de Castro and Doris Kurella for organizing the magnificent exhibit on the Inca in the Linden-Museumm Stuttgart in 2014. I also like to thank them and Karoline Noack for inviting me to the attendant conference and to Ann Peters for her comments on my paper. 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Actual, Responsable de Investigación Histórica del Santuario Histórico de Machupicchu, de la Dirección Desconcentrada de Cultura Cuzco, del Ministerio de Cultura (2013-2014). Especialista en la Historia Rural Andina del Siglo XVI-XIX y la formación y establecimiento de las parroquias cuzqueñas y la nobleza inca durante el periodo colonial. donatoamado@hotmail.com Astuhuamán Gonzáles, César, Ph.D.: Profesor de arqueología en la Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos y director del Proyecto Integral Aypate, Ministerio de Cultura, Perú. Sus proyectos de investigaciones se centran en los Inca, el periodo del contacto Europeo-Americano y la historia de la arqueología. cesar_astuhuaman@yahoo.es Bauer, Brian S., Ph.D.: Professor of archaeology at the University of Illinois at Chicago. Expert on the Inca and author of many publications on that topic. Research on the development of complex societies in the Americas as well as on myths and the European-American contact period. bsb@uic.edu Barnes, Monica: Lead editor of Andean Past and an Associate of the American Museum of Natural History where her work centers on the “Study of Inca Provincial Life” project directed by John Victor Murra in Peru’s Huánuco Region from 1963 to 1966. She has about 200 articles, book chapters, obituaries, book reviews, edited volumes, and translations to her credit. She has also curated several photographic exhibitions. monica@andeanpast.org Ceruti, Constanza, Ph.D.: Argentinean anthropologist. She is a Professor of Inca Archaeology at the Catholic University of Salta and a Scientific Investigator of the National Council for Scientific Research (CONICET) in Argentina. She is the author of more than one hundred scientific publications, including fifteen books, and she has received numerous international awards. constanza_ceruti@yahoo.com 291 Covey, R. Alan, Ph.D.: Associate Professor of Anthropology at the University of Texas at Austin, and a Research Associate at the American Museum of Natural History. His research focuses on the origins, growth, and administration of the Inca empire, as well as on the transitions to Spanish rule in the Cusco region. He has directed regional surveys and excavations in the Inca imperial heartland, as well as archaeological studies of Inca provincial rule, and archival research in Peru and Spain. r.alan.covey@austin.utexas.edu Fischer, Manuela, Ph.D.: Curator of the South American Collections of the Ethnologisches Museum (Berlin). Her research centers on the history of the museum’s collections. She has published on collectors and Americanists, including Max Uhle, Konrad Theodor Preuss, and Otto SchultzKampfhenkel. Within the field of the history of science she is interested in the beginnings of anthropology and the biography of objects and their present political contexts. In particular, she focuses on the history of science in the 19th century and the history of photography. m.fischer@smb.spk-berlin.de Gänger, Stephanie, Ph.D.: Assistant professor (Juniorprofessorin) at the Institute for Iberian and Latin American History at Cologne University. Her work focuses on the Andes in the late-colonial and earlyRepublican periods, with a particular interest in the history of botany, medicine, and antiquarianism. stefanie.gaenger@gmail.com Kosiba, Steve, Ph.D.: Assistant Professor in the Department of Anthropology, University of Alabama. Director of archaeological, historical, and ethnographic research at the Inca ceremonial complex of Huanacauri and the Inca labor colony of Rumiqolqa. sbkosiba@ua.edu Noack, Karoline, Ph.D.: Catedrática en el Departamento de Antrpología de las Américas de la Universidad de Bonn y directora de la Bonner Altamerika-Sammlung (BASA, Museo de Antropología de las Américas de Bonn). Sus focos del trabajo son los siguientes: procesos de transculturación en los Andes en perspectiva histórica, antropología visual y cultura material, estudios museísticos, antropología urbana, estudios de género así como historia de la ciencia. Dentro de este marco coordina y realiza proyectos de investigación sobre la base de colecciones de los Aparai-Wayana (noreste de Sudamérica), excavaciones arqueológicas en Cochabamba (Bolivia) así como en Trujillo y Lima (Perú). knoack@uni-bonn.de 292 List of authors Nowack, Kerstin, Ph.D.: Independent Scholar, university lecturer at the Department for the Anthropology of the America of the University of Bonn. Research topics include the ethnohistory of the Andes in the 15th and 16th century with a focus on the history and culture of the Inca empire. Currently researching the causes and the course of the civil war between Atagualpa and Guascar. Kerstin_Nowack@gmx.de Oshige Adams, David Ernesto: Licenciado en Arqueología, Co-Director del Proyecto Arqueológico Pukara (www.pukara.org). Interés en el proceso de desarrollo y consolidación de las sociedades complejas y las desigualdades sociales en la cuenca norte del lago Titicaca. Estudios concluidos de Máster en Sociología, con una investigación sobre recicladores de basura. Interés en la sociología cultural y política y en estudios sobre desigualdad social, poblaciones vulnerables y empleos autogenerados. doshigea@pucp.pe Peters, Ann H., Ph.D.: Her dissertation title is Paracas, Topará and early Nasca: Ethnicity and Society on the South Central Andean Coast (1997). After undertaking comparative study of textile assemblages from other Andean mortuary contexts, she returned to work on Paracas Necropolis in the early 21st century, drawing on archival data from Julio C. Tello’s original research. Between 2010 and 2014 she directed the project “Practice in Life, Presence after Death: Style and Substance at the Paracas Necropolis”. This research has led her to explore the practices associated with preserving and honoring ancestors at different times and places in Andean history. She is a Consulting Scholar in the American Section of the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. ann.h.peters@gmail.com Quave, Kylie, Ph.D.: Visiting Assistant Professor of Anthropology at Beloit College and Postdoctoral Research Fellow at the Logan Museum of Anthropology in Beloit, Wisconsin, USA. Her research is on the archaeology and ethnohistory of the development of the Inca and Spanish empires in the Andes. She has directed the Cheqoq, Ak‘awillay, and Yunkaray Archaeological Research Projects in the Cusco region. quaveke@beloit.edu 293 Reid, David: Ph.D.candidate at the University of Illinois at Chicago and Graduate Researcher at The Field Museum of Chicago. Investigation: Andean political economy, state development and expansion, archaeological applications of GIS and geochemistry. He is currently conducting field research in southern Peru and is a co-author of a number of publications concerning the Inca, the Late Preceramic, and the Peopling of the Andes. dreid5@uic.edu Wernke, Steven, Ph.D.: Associate Professor, Department of Anthropology, Vanderbilt University. His research centers on colonialism and imperialism during the late prehispanic and Spanish colonial eras in the Andean region, with methodological foci in spatial analysis and thematic foci in landscape and land use, community-state relations, and religious transformation. His current research includes archaeological and ethnohistorical projects in the Colca Valley of the southern Peruvian Andes, and an interdisciplinary digital humanities project (co-directed with Jeremy Mumford, Brown University) aimed at producing an analytically-rich “deep map” of the Viceroyalty of Peru. s.wernke@Vanderbilt.Edu