Tungula's Gift [English-Spanish]

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A Fidler House Digital Edition

TUNGULAS GIFTA Peruvian Tale from the Land of Sicn

BY LUIS ABELARDO NEZ

DUAL-LANGUAGE BOOK

CONTENTS> ENGLISH > SPANISH


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TUNGULAS GIFTA Peruvian Tale from the Land of SicnBY LUIS ABELARDO NEZ

DUAL-LANGUAGE BOOK

A Fidler House Digital Edition

Editors and translators:

Roger Fidler & Ada Vigo de Fidler

First publication in English: December 2006

First publication as a dual-language book: September 2007

2006-2007 by Fidler House

www.fidlerhouse.com

All rights reserved. This digital edition or any portion of thisdigital edition may not be sold or used for any commercialpurpose without permission in writing from the Publisher.

CONTENTS > ENGLISH> SPANISH


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CONTENTS > ENGLISH> SPANISH3 OF89

Table of Contents

Dedication 5

Preface 6

About the Author 11

1 Introduction 14

Map: Department of Lambayeque 15

Photos: Pomac Forest Historic Sanctuary 17

The Batn Grande Estate 18

Tungula, Almost a God 19

2 The Road to Batn Grande 22The Journey Begins 23

The Bridge to the Alameda 26

The Sights Along the Way 29

3 Crossing the Famous Zanjn 34The Competition 35

The Zanjn, the Zanjn! 36

A Respite Follows the Miracle 38

A Cure for the Evil Eye 40


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To the reasons of my life

Idedicate this book, witness of my dreams and the boat

on which my memories sail, to my beautiful Ferreafe its legends, history, and traditions and to all the

people who love peace and justice.

With emotion, love, and gratitude for the three NezDelgado sisters, born in Ferreafe under the dazzling sun

of Lambayeque. Tarcila de Takahashi, my unforgettablemother who gave me her benediction before she began hertrip to heaven. She left when she was in the flower of herexistence.

To my remembered aunts: Virginia de Kanno, anonymousand sacrificing heroine, modest woman but gigantic in her

tenderness; and Etelvina de Itabashi who was my lovingteacher of guitar and theater. She left me on a full stagewhere I am an actor of the eternal work dreams of Lifeand Death.

To my four siblings: Amanda, Jorge, Soledad, and BlancaTakahashi Nez.

To my self-sacrificing wife, Maria Nila Bautista Palacios,and my seven unique children: Cristina Tarcila, LuisaElizabeth, Mara Nila, Lourdes Rossana, Luis Abelardo,Katty Adela, and Pedro Leonardo.

LUIS ABELARDO NEZ


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Preface

This digital edition of Tungulas Gift is the fulfillmentof a promise we made to Luis Abelardo Nez,which is a story of its own. That story began

on January 18, 1985, at a radio station in Lima, Per.After Ada Vigo sang several of Abelardos songs for theannual Day of Lima celebration, the composer personallyintroduced himself and invited her to sing at a concert hewas preparing to give at the Municipal Theater.

At the time, she was a reporter for Perus mostimportant newspaper,El Comercio. While Peruvianmusic was her passion and she had been singing

Abelardos songs for many years, she had never sungprofessionally or in front of a large audience. Initiallyshe was hesitant to accept his invitation, but Abelardoprevailed. From that chance meeting, a friendshipflourished that would radically change her life and mine.

In September 1987, the InterAmerican Press Associationinvited me to speak about my work in digital publishingand computer graphics at a technology conference hostedbyEl Comercioin Lima. At that time I didnt speak Spanishand this was my first visit to a South American country.

The editor of the newspaper knew that Ada was fluent inEnglish, so he assigned her to translate my presentation andto be my guide. He told her to take good care of Mr. Fidler

and make sure he has a good impression of Per.


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She followed his instructions with absoluteseriousness. Nearly 18 months later we were married inMiami, and Per still is my favorite country to visit. Wehave come to believe that Abelardo had a hand in allthis, but thats another story.

Soon after our marriage, I suggested producing analbum with a selection of Abelardos compositions sungby Ada in her more contemporary style. Again sheinitially hesitated, but Abelardos enthusiasm for theproject finally convinced her. In the summer of 1991,we contracted with Paul Hoyle, a Peruvian arrangerliving in Miami, to create the arrangements andinstrumentation for 10 songs.

When the album was completed, we sent Abelardoseveral dozen copies. He was thrilled, butwhat excitedhim most was learning that all of the musicianswho provided the background for Ada were digital.

Actually, the musician was Hoyle who created all theinstrumentation using a piano keyboard and touchpad connected to a Macintosh computer and digitalsynthesizer.

Our purpose for producing the album was not tomake money; it was to promote Peruvian music and toacquaint people with Abelardos work. Since then, wehave given hundreds of cassettes and CDs to friends andpeople we have met in our travels around the world. In2004, we posted the songs and the lyrics from the albumon our Web site at: www.rogerfidler.com/music.


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My first opportunity to meet Abelardo in person camein April 1998. He was visiting his relatives in Paterson,New Jersey, when I was invited to speak at a ColumbiaUniversity symposium. Ada and I offered to take himwith us to New York City for a few days. He was eagerto explore the city, but also wanted to attend thesymposium.

The topic was the future of digital publishing andmobile reading devices. After hearing my presentation andseeing the demonstrations, he could hardly contain hisenthusiasm. Abelardo was captivated by the notion thatnewspapers and books could be published electronicallyand read immediately by people all around the world.

Through Ada, he asked me if I could produce anddistribute an electronic edition of a book he was writing.

Always a cultural ambassador for Per, he thought thiswould be a great way for people to know more about hiscountrys rich traditions and history. I told him if that waswhat he wanted, I would do it for free.

Four years later, we went to Ferreafe, Per, to bewith Abelardo when the city where he was born andbegan his musical career honored him. During that visit,he asked Jos Maeda Ascencio to take us to the pre-IncaSicn complex at Batn Grande. Maeda is a journalistand recognized authority on the Sicn culture and BatnGrande. Abelardo told us this was the subject of the bookhe calledLos Huacos Silbadores, which he reminded mewas the one I had promised to publish as a digital edition.


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To get to one of the great Sicn pyramids in the PomacForest Historic Sanctuary, we had to wade across theLeche River and then hike through a dense cluster of

algarrobotrees. The trek was like a scene from an IndianaJones movie. When we finally reached the top of thepyramid, which archaeologists were excavating, we wereamazed by the spectacular panorama and the enormity ofthe complex. Everywhere we looked there were pyramidsand mounds as far as the eye could see.

Tragically, he said, the rains brought by the increasinglymore frequentEl Nioevents and the plundering bytomb robbers are destroying the complex faster thanarchaeologists can excavate it. (In November 2006, a team

of archaeologists unearthed a rich trove of Sicn artifacts from

a dig at the pyramid called El Loro in the Batn Grande

complex. The treasures included the first tumi ceremonial

knives ever found in situ by scientists; all previously known

tumis were looted by tomb robbers.)

Before we left Ferreafe, Abelardo told us that heconsidered this book the masterpiece of his career. Thiswould be the last time we would see him. The followingyear a melanoma that had been in remission reappeared ina more virulent form and spread quickly to his brain.

After his death in December 2005, his wife Nila told usthat in his final days he frequently reminded her to send usa copy of his manuscript for the digital edition. But in theturmoil of that stressful time, Abelardos manuscript becamemisplaced among all his papers.


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It wasnt until July 2006 that we received themanuscript with a letter from Nila authorizing us topublish a digital edition.The wish of Abelardo and Nilawas that the digital edition would not be sold, so thatanyone could read it anywhere in the world.

A few words about the translationThis is the first time one of Abelardos stories has beentranslated into English and the first one to be publishedas a digital edition. We have attempted to preserve hiswriting style in this English translation of his manuscript.The introduction is the only chapter where we madeextensive changes. This was done to clarify and to includenew information.

We have kept some words in Spanish to retain thecultural flavor of the story. Those words appear in italictype, and in most cases can be found in the glossary atthe back of the book. Spanish nicknames are shown withquotation marks the first time they appear in the story.

While our translations of poems and lyrics do not retainthe rhyming or syllabic structure of the original Spanishversions, we have tried to retain their meaning and style.

We hope you will enjoy reading Abelardos story.

Roger & Ada Fidler Columbia, Missouri December 22, 2006 [email protected]


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About the Author

Luis Abelardo Nez is one of the most revered of hisgeneration of Peruvian composers. Abelardo, as heaffectionately was called by those who knew him and

appreciated his music, was born in Ferreafe, a small farmingvillage near Chiclayo in northern Per, on November 22,1926. The day of his birth is recognized by Catholics as theday of Santa Cecilia, the patronsaint of musicians.

His father, Sakuzo Takahashi,immigrated to Per fromFukushima, Japan. His mother,Tarcila Nez Delgado, wasPeruvian. Both parents diedwhen he was very young. Hisaunt Virginia de Kanno, who wasa seamstress and the wife of aJapanese barber in Ferreafe,took over the responsibility forrearing him and his four otherorphaned siblings.

From an early age, Abelardowas enthralled by the music andfolklore of northern Per. With the guidance of anotheraunt, Etelvina de Itabashi, he learned to play guitar andother instruments as well as to write and compose songs.

Abelardo Nez (right)and Santiago Balladares

in Ferreafe circa 1941.


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When he was 19 years old, he moved to Lima, the capitalof Per, to pursue his musical career. To be accepted as aPeruvian musician and composer, he adopted his mothersfamily name Nez.

His first composition, Engaada (Cheated), waspublished in 1950. He composed and wrote lyrics for morethan 200 songs in a wide variety of Peruvian styles, such asmarineras, tonderos, huaynos, valses, polkas, and anthems.

Abelardo became known as The Composer of thePeople because of his strong connection to the populace andhis selfless support in the struggle for social justice. Travelingwith his guitar throughout Per, he painted with his musicportraits and landscapes that reflected the sorrows and joys,tragedies and triumphs, ugliness and beauty that confrontedhim. While he had a genuine affection for all the people andlands of his mother country, it was his beloved Ferreafethat always possessed his heart and soul. He was particularlycaptivated by the legends, mysteries, and artifacts of theSicn people who had constructed the pre-Columbianpyramids at Batn Grande in the province of Ferreafe.

In recognition of his lifetime of contributions to Peruvianmusic and culture, the Major University of San Marcos ofLima awarded Abelardo with a diploma and a medal ofhonor in 1994.

Abelardo and his wife Nila (Mara Nila Bautista Palacios)moved to Nagoya, Japan, in 1996 to be with their childrenwho had decided earlier that year to emigrate from Per tothe native country of their grandfather.


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Abelardo at his sister Amandas home in Ferreafe in 2002.

PHOTO:ROGERFIDLER

In 2002, Abelardo briefly returned to Per to berecognized as the Favorite Son of Ferreafe and toperform in Lima at a nationally televised concert in hishonor. During his years in Japan, he actively served as anambassador of Peruvian music and culture.

On December 19, 2005, Abelardo died in Japan after along battle with melanoma. His body was sent to Per forburial in Ferreafe.


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1Introduction

Contemplating the high summits of the mountain rangeof the Pacific, the mind of man portrays the Andeanlandscapes. An intimate voice disturbs and wraps usin a fog of mystery and dreams. Perhaps this is the reason whytheferreafanos[people of Ferreafe] are slaves to incrediblelegends.

The province of Ferreafe in the department of Lam-bayeque contains evidence of many ancient cultures thatdate back to about 500 BC. However, it is the people whobuilt the enormous complexes at Batn Grande and Tucumein the Rio de la Leche [Milk River] Valley between the years800 and 1300 ADthat have captivated Peruvians and scholarsfrom around the world.

The name given to these people and their culture isSicn, which means House of the Moon in the ancientMuchik language. Archaeologists believe they probably aredescendents of the Moche.

The population included many highly skilled artisans andmetal workers as is evidenced by the vast quantities of gold,silver, and copper artifacts found in the Sicn tombs. Theyknew the secrets for producing delicate gold ornamentsand an arsenic-copper alloy, which is the closest material to

bronze found in pre-Columbian America.


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Lima

PER

Department of Lambayeque

Chiclayo

Lambayeque Ferreafe

Eten

Monsef

Zaa

CHICLAYOPROVINCE

Chongoyape

FERREAFEPROVINCE

LAMBAYEQUE

PROVINCE

Ptipo

Salas

Jayanca

Incahuasi

Caaris

PIURA CAJAMARCA

LALIBERTAD

Illimo

Tucume

BatnGrande

PacificOcean

MAP:ROGERFIDLER


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According to Julio C. Tello, the father of Peruvianarchaeology, nearly all of the gold and silver extracted bythe people of South America in prehistoric times came fromnorthern Per, and at least three quarters of the archaeologicalspecimens of Peruvian gold that exist in foreign and nationalmuseums came from the department of Lambayeque, mainlyfrom the archaeological nucleus of Batn Grande and Tucume.

The Sicn population also included people who knew thesecrets of medicinal herbs, and produced fine textiles andsophisticated pottery. Among the types of pottery they createdthere was a musical instrument similar to a flute, which couldtake many shapes and acquire many different sounds, calledahuaco silbador[whistling vessel of baked clay].

Around 1100 ADthe Batn Grande complex with its20 pyramids was abandoned, probably because of a greatflood that damaged the irrigation channels and agriculturallands. The Sicn people soon established a new religiousand ceremonial center at Tucume. The culture flourished foranother two centuries until a great drought that lasted formore than 30 years brought about its rapid collapse.

The Sicn people were eventually conquered in about 1350ADby the kingdom of the Great Chim, which encompassed allof the modern department of Lambayeque. The old chroniclessay that about one hundred years before the Spanish conquestof Per in the 16th century, the Inca Huayna Capac occupiedthe Chim kingdom. The Penach Indians resisted and werenever totally subdued. The territory of this rebel tribe probablyreached into what is now the province of Ferreafe.


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Two views of the Pomac Forest Historic Sanctuary from one of

the Batn Grande pyramids.

PHOT

OS:ROGERFIDLER


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The Batn Grande EstateThe opportunity should not be passed up to add some notesabout the Batn Grande estate, inside whose boundaries

was the Batn Grande complex. The Spanish archives showthat in the year 1527 Don Francisco de Barbarn boughtthe lands, mounds, tombs and idols from the cacique[nativeoverlord] of Illimo. The estate subsequently passed to Juande Barbarn, who sold it in the year 1612 to Don Antoniode Villavicencio. The earliest recorded name given to the

property was San Nicols de Sicn or Cicn.At the beginning of the 19th century, the owner of theestate was Don Andrs Delgado. He is said to have plantedtwo mango trees from India, one of which still survived at theestate in 1970, according to Carlos Bachmans monographabout Lambayeque. These trees at Batn Grande are believed

to be the ancestors of all existing mango trees in Per andEcuador.

The Batn Grande estate house circa 1940.


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By the 1860s the property had become known as theBatn Grande hacienda. In 1913, Don Juan J. Aurich Pastorbought the property from the Delgado heirs. About 400people resided at the estate in the 1920s. Upon his deathin 1935, his children, the Aurich Bonilla, took possession.They continued to own and administer the estate until 1968when they were forced out during the so-called agrarianreformation.

After years of neglect, the Peruvian government took asmall step in 1984 to protect the property as an archaeologicalreserve. In 1991, it became known as the Batn GrandeReserve and in 2001, the reserve was designated as the PomacForest Historic Sanctuary. The government is now makinga greater effort to preserve the archaeological sites andthe surroundingalgarrobo[carob] forest that is one of twoequatorial desert forests in the world.

Tungula, Almost a GodNo one knows with absolute certainty the birthplace ofTungula, the great caciquewho governed for many yearsthat region where the eagles fly, thealgarrobotrees flourish,thehuerequequebird sings, the foxes trifle, and thehuacoswhistle. Perhaps it was in Caaris or Incahuasi where he sawhis first light. What is most probable is that his children wereborn in Batn Grande.

The legends say that Tungula was a wise and noblelord. His beautiful wife Kalina is said to have possessed a

magisterial and sweet voice that was like the songbirds of


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the Sicn paradise. Their four children were the joy andhappiness of these respected leaders of this region.

On nights when the moon was full, the Tungula familywould climb to the top of a high mound in the ChaparriHills wearing resplendent clothing and crowns of gold inlaidwith pearls and rare stones. Together with their subjects inthatyungachapel, they would offer strange prayers to anunknown god as they contemplated the clear and starry skyof Batn Grande.

Their first child Amusuy was a princess who dazzledeveryone in that region. She was beautiful and generous tothe people of her town. She also domesticated all the wildanimals that lived in the Sicn territory. Her three brothers Janque, Molln and Puchaca were master goldsmithsand good potters.

Tungula devoted his time to molding whistlinghuacos. Heknew all the secrets of nature. From time to time he wouldtravel to Penach where he gathered miraculous herbs thathe used for his healing rituals. All the townspeople knewabout Tungulas strange powers and his ability to soften thehardest stones with his hands using tiny leaves of dark redcolor.

Tungulas ambition was to capture the voice of hisbeloved wife. One night he asked the god of the wind togrant him his wish. The next day when Kalina tried to intonea prayer, she realized she had lost her voice. From thatmoment, all the whistlinghuacosmade by Tungula acquired

the musical and sonorous charm that subdues and bewitches.


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Each son was given a whistling huaco created by thisgreat lord. All were decorated with small heads of foxes.Janque received ahuacowith two foxes, Molln with three,and Puchaca with four, in that order. Thehuacohe gave tohis daughter Amusuy was different; it was decorated withthe small head of a parrot.

When Tungula delivered these fantastichuacos, he toldhis children that when he died they should bury him withall his best clothing and ornaments. That same should occurwhen his offspring left this world; the town had to burythem with all their most prized possessions and, of course,with their whistlinghuacos, so that Mother Earth willreceive everything she has given us.

When Kalina saw that her husband was near death,she begged him to tell her the source of that fabulous leafhe used to soften stones; but already it was written thatTungula would carry to his tomb the secret that only isknown by the sun, the wind, the rocks, the rain, and perhapsthe birds that bring in their beaks the mysterious leaveswhose sap is dark red like theyungablood.


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2The Road to Batn Grande

It was a warm early morning on the last Friday of themonth of February in the year 1937. The previous nighthad rained torrentially. At the break of dawn, large heavyraindrops continued falling. The streets that ran in straightlines through the town of Ferreafe had been converted intosmall streams. Murky water flowed along the cobblestonesand kissed the curbs of the narrow paths paved with cement.Small frogs were hopping about, some managed to enterthe houses. Wide open doors facilitated the entry of thosetiny friends of the farmers. Gigantic dragonflies of emeraldgreen color perched on the high adobe walls covered with aplaster of gypsum and lime. This was an unmistakable sign ofsummer approaching and the time for sowing rice.

Was it not a strong rainstorm, neighbor? Don Jacintoinquired of an old farmer.

Yes, the storm answered the sowers of rice, but thewater arrives late.

Better late than never, Don Jacinto retorted.That morning the housewives sought bread for breakfast.

During those days the people of Ferreafe could not imaginedrinking a good cup of coffee with milk without their localbread greased with fresh butter from Monsef or tasty

mountain cheese produced in Sangana.


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Where did you get bread, comadreLuisa?Its not bread comadre. What I carry in my basket are

yucas.Because of the rains, the firewood was wet and the ovens

were cold. The bakers had not thought ahead, which is whythe town resorted toyucas, bananas, and sweet potatoes.

The whistle of the train could be heard clearly inthePlaza de Armas, which was six blocks away from therailway station. Travelers hurried their steps to arrive intime to find good seats. The train would leave at sevenoclock sharp bound for the port of Eten, passing throughLambayeque, Chiclayo, and Monsef, the city of flowersand land of industrious people where women weavebeautiful saddlebags of thread and hats of reeds. They alsocould prepare tasty snacks and good chicha[corn liquor]sweetened with honey.

Seven tolls of a bell marked the exact hour, theinexorable time that never stops. A turkey buzzard frolickedlazily on the cross atop the tower of the beautiful andancient church of Santa Luca of Ferreafe, founded in theyear 1550. The sun king heated with his luminous rays thefertile and generous land.

The Journey BeginsOn Unin Street the old truck of the Batn Grande estate,Don Juan, was parked in a puddle of murky water. Thismorning the vehicle would transport various field workersalong with some small-time merchants carrying their wares


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who expected to profit from the fortnight payday at theestate.

The body of Don Juan was soaked; the rain had left itin misery. As the sun continued to warm the morning, somepassengers began boarding the vehicle. Patuco, the assistantto the driver of the famous Don Juan, took the crank andbegan turning it to activate the dynamo. The motor struggledseveral times before it finally started. All the passengers were

happy as thick smoke escaped from the muffler.

The church of Santa Luca of Ferreafe.

PHOTO:ROGERFID

LER


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Along the same Unin street lived a Japanese mannamed Kanno. This honest and industrious oriental had abarbershop. His companion and wife was a modest womanof Ferreafe called Virginia. This seamstress, known by allas Ta Vige [Aunt Vige], was recognized for her generosityand kindness, which she demonstrated on differentoccasions. For example, she often came to the aid of localpoor people and even helped a few outsiders. These lastmentioned were ones detained for brawling and did nothave a bite to eat. After remaining for several days in thetiny jail of the civil guard, the food they received from TaVige was like a gift from heaven.

From the house of the Japanese, their nephew Chololeft hastily. The boy took two cardboard boxes filled withclothing, the modest creations of his aunt Vige, that wouldbe sold at the great estate of Batn Grande.

Cholo was in his eleventh year. Like all young boys,he was restless, but people noted that he was intelligentand because of his good behavior they liked him. In hisneighborhood he was one of the best players on the soccerteam, which he named Estrella Roja [Red Star]. Thosewere the days of the cloth soccer balls, when peopletalked about Lolo Fernndez the Striker, the MagicianValdiviezo, and Alejandro Hose Villanueva, stars ofPeruvian soccer.

Cholo wore brand new overalls of bluish color. In thenickel-plated clasps were reflected the rays of the sun thatappeared by Las Tres Tomas hill.


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When the driver of the truck arrived, all greeted him withrespect. This chauffeur knew all the defects and virtues ofthe famous small truck. Don Juan Barbn, as they calledthis professional of the wheel, was a tall white man with cleareyes who enjoyed good food and good liquor. He sang anddanced themarineragracefully. The Aurich family, owners ofthe Batn Grande estate, had great appreciation for him.

As Barbn took the wheel of the truck and lit his cigarette,Ta Vige appeared. She was carrying a large battered suitcasethat had seen better days. It was easy to see that it was heavy.As soon as she could, she handed it to Patuco. Then she wentback to her house. When she returned to the truck, shecarried in her right hand a smoldering roasted sweet potatoof purple color that she gave to her nephew Cholo. She thenclimbed up and accommodated herself in the cab of the dearold Don Juan, the vehicle that had had a long history oflove and sacrifice.

The Bridge to the AlamedaOn the Carmona Bridge, which spans a large irrigationditch and leads to the romanticalameda, many people werewaiting impatiently to travel to the estate. It was Friday.Saturday would be the fortnight payday and the town wouldhave money. The Aurich family always paid on time. For thatreason, they were respected and appreciated.

All sorts of baskets and containers of merchandise wereaccommodated on the platform of the truck. Who wasmost enthusiastic was Don Sevilla, the harness maker, who


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brought saddles, stirrups with silver corners, headstalls,bridles and reins. His products were sought after at theestate and Don Sevilla could not keep from rubbing hishands and smiling at everyone.

Hello Ta Vige! Are you also traveling to the estate?Manuel inquired.

No, I go to Cajamarca, to your land to eatgranadillasand chirimoyas, she replied sarcastically.

You are always reminding me that I am not fromFerreafe.

Manuel was a native of Chota who had resided since1925 in Ferreafe. He was a very attentive and cordial manwhose manner of speaking easily revealed his mountainorigin and ancestry. Most people knew him as Topiquero.

This man played an important role and his services werein great demand. He was like a social aid institution for thepeople of that zone, where almost everything was curedwith herbs colic, hemorrhages, aches and pains, diarrhea,sprains, rashes, intoxications, and indigestion. His serviceswere mostly free. Like a nurse and pharmacist, he couldprescribe syrups, poultices, pills, lozenges, and capsules, andhe could give injections. Some ladies said that Topiquero hada very smooth hand. He also functioned as a dentist, but nota painless one. In those days, extracting teeth was painfulbecause there was no anesthesia.

Slowly the truck Don Juan initiated its march as thepassengers accommodated themselves on their improvised

seats. Some residents of the Alameda neighborhood raised


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their arms to wave goodbye to the travelers. The wadingbirds that nested in the high ficus plants screeched andfluttered around the beautiful trees.

Suddenly something happened near the bridge in front ofthe house of a lady whom everyone called Tortolita [TurtleDove] because of her short stature and the way she swayedas she walked. Many curious people were circling around aperson who was on the ground rolling in agony.

Whats happening? Perhaps its a fight among boys?No! Its Pelusa, the young boy reared by Don

Manuel. Always hes getting his Manuelitos. Thank Godit happened outside the ditch because if not, he wouldhave drowned, commented a laborer who was carrying asaddlebag on his shoulder.

Pelusa did extreme contortions, his eyes were bulging,his arms were stiff, and foam sprouted from his mouth.He had epilepsy, an almost incurable and serious illness.

A lady shouted forcefully at everyone to get back andprovide more space because the boy needed air. Thensomeone removed his reed hat and used it as a fan. Thelady who was shouting bent down and took the hand of theepileptic. She got his middle finger and pulled it hard.

That is the finger of the heart and it will calm his pain,she said.

Poor boy, murmured a woman who was a pastry maker.The truck Don Juan had its motor running, but the

curious people would not move until they saw the conclusionof this unpleasant occurrence.


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It already happened to him! Barbn said. Lets go,lets go, get back onboard because the hours are passing.

When Pelusa recuperated, he looked at all the peoplearound him, put his hand in his pocket, removed a piece ofbiscuit, bit it, and went walking among the ficus plants ofthealameda, which had witnessed so many strange eventsthat occurred there.

The Sights Along the WayAll the passengers made the sign of the cross as they passedthe chapel of the image of Seor de la Justicia, whose festivitieswere carried out from the 23rd to the 27th of April. At the endof thealameda, the faade of the Virgen del Carmencemeterystood out prominently. To one side of a small brick bridgesome vaults of a very old cemetery could be seen.

And what happens there? Do they no longer use thosevaults? asked a lady.

Not anymore, answered Don Sevilla. In this cemeterythey have only buried five Chinese citizens.

Now where do they bury them?There is no one to bury, Seora. The Chinese die old

and that only happens every hundred years.The water of the rains had filled to capacity the so-called

Flautero pit, also known as the pit of the drowned ones.The wind agitated the wild reeds and rushes. The guinea

fowl, ducks, and coots took to flight, frightened by the noisymotor of the old truck. A small fox crossed the road in thedirection of a winter habitat of the white chisco[Mockingbird].


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Do you know these winter habitats? Topiquero askedTa Vige.

What a foolish question you ask me if I am of Ferreafe.I was born in this land where some day my bones shall rest. Ieven know the owner because he is my neighbor. His housein town is nearby on San Martn Street.

But Ta Vige, do you know what happens in thosewinter habitats? Manuel continued asking.

What do you mean, thin dog? Cholos aunt inquired.Ah! You see, in these winter habitats there exists a

paradise on EarthWell, what I know is that on those lands arealgarrobo

trees and weeping willows. There are many nests of doves andin the highest branches are enormous hives filled with honey.

Thats not all. Theres something else, Topiqueroreplied. In those lands are many tame donkeys. This is thereason the young boys of the town go to this place eachweekend, because there they can get their first sexualexperiences.

Oh, you stupid man! Then you must have been weanedthere, the good seamstress said.

Me? Im not from Ferreafe. Looking askance at Cholo,who appeared unworried as he held his slingshot, Topiquerosaid with sarcasm, Aunt, you should take more care withyour nephew. Many people have seen him patrolling thoselands of Seor Mendoza.

Shut up! My Cholo still is too young; he hasnt even smelledthe skirt yet. She coughed three times and then stayed quiet.


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Maneuvering along the rutted tracks, Don Juanproceeded slowly on its march. The sand and clay did notallow the truck to go faster.

Scanning the panorama of that zone, the beautifulsown land made the spirit happy. Farm workers protectedby wide-brim hats made of reeds were passing by mountedon their donkeys carrying pickaxes, rakes, machetes, andsaddlebags. The solar rays were toasting the skin of theirarms. The smiling faces of theferreafanosand the happysongs of the dark-plumed thrush were bucolic brush strokesthat conveyed love and hope. The wind took charge ofcarrying them very far away.

Like white-handkerchief peace signs, white heronscrossed the space. The sun was stronger, but a cool breezeannounced the presence of the gigantic masses of stonethat encircle the mysterious and prodigious lands of BatnGrande. It is there where fantastic treasures sleep, theinheritance of our ancestors; where characters such asTungula, holding the hand of some god of the universe, builtthe incredible region of Sicn where the moon sleeps andthe sun cries.

Happy are those roads from Ferreafe to Batn Grande.There to the right is the road to Nerio and Guanabal,further ahead are the irrigated lands of La Cruz delCaminante, El Rastrojo, Las Dos Puertas, La Pared, andJabonero. During those days, some of the more advancedsmall farms showed little flags of rice in the furrows of thedark land, the land of Santa Luca.


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The passengers who traveled in the cab were surprisedby the cheerful singing of some peasants from themountains. These werehuaynitomelodies with versesin Quechua. Dark red ponchos and straight, greasy hairidentified those travelers on the roof of the truck as theoriginal people of Ferreafe and the legitimate heirs to thegreat fortune that Sicn keeps.

The secondhand hats worn by these young serranos[people of the mountains] were products of bartering. Toobtain those items from the coast, they delivered excellentcheeses made with the milk of cows raised in the pasturelands of Molln, Laquipampa, and Sangana. Some landlordswho exploited these places had land titles of murkyprovenance.

In the settlement called Ptipo, two people awaited a liftfrom Don Juan. They climbed to the top of the truck asBarbn climbed down. He went to a small tavern where hedelivered two letters. As payment for his graciousness, thetavern owner presented him with a mug full ofyonque. Onhis return to the wheel, the driver belched in a disgustingway. All who traveled next to him looked at him with anger,but he ignored them, lit a cigarette, and continued driving.

The cab was impregnated with the smell of alcohol. Thesmoke of the cigarette bothered Cholo, who stared at thesmoker.

From above arrived theserranosinging. Those of the darkred panchos continued to intone their chuscadas[traditionalsongs]. It was then that Barbn, perhaps stimulated by the


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yonque, began to sing a sad lambayecanowhose lyrics belongto the poet from Chiclayo, Don Arturo Shutt y Saco, and isstill heard on some occasions.

The Chongoyapana

If because you have new loves,

you dont want me anymore Chongoyapana.

I also have somebody who dies for me,

my chiclayana.

Like the stones of Raca Rumy,

your soul is hard.

I also have somebody who dies for me,

my chiclayana.

I dont care that you dont want me,

Chongoyapana.

I also have other loves,

to forget you.

But I cannot because I live

seeing you ungrateful.


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3Crossing the Famous Zanjn

When they arrived at Mauro Bridge, an oldstructure of iron built over the so-called LocoRiver, the images of trees were dissolving intoanother landscape rocky old roads where herdersprodded their burros loaded with stones from the hills forthe foundations of houses. Also went mules and horses, thesaddlebags full of dreams.

As they passed near a mound of gray land, a redheadedvulture hastily devoured the corpse of a putrefiedquadruped. The scraps were disputed. Just beyond, next tosome wilted prickly pear cacti, two ravens smoothed theirbeaks on their strong wings; those birds of prey expectedwithout any doubt to have a great banquet.

The heat was suffocating. Pooled water was starting todecompose. The famouszanjnwas not yet visible. Owingto the intense heat, an almost imperceptible vapor emergedfrom the Batn Grande soil. The motor of the old DonJuan was overheating. For that reason Barbn decided tomake another stop.

Lets put some water in the radiator, the driver toldPatuco. The assistant took a can and went in search of the liquidelement. He was quick and returned in a few minutes, but he

had to wait for the radiator to cool before filling it with water.


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The gravel on the road was like the embers of a fire. Thepassengers were impatient to arrive at the estate.

The CompetitionTa Vige broke the silence and although she was somewhatlethargic from the trip, she asked Topiquero, Thin dog,what are you going to do at the estate; perhaps you arecuring some important person?

No, aunt. This time its one of the relatives of theestates owners. The patient has dropsy. My assignment is toextract liquid and then give him his injections.

But the dropsy is not cured with injections, said thegood seamstress.

No! Its cured with caazo[sugar cane liquor] andculen leaves, the man from Cajamarca said in a derisive tone.

Stupid, for your information there are some herbsI know that are sufficient with three doses to cure thatillness.

Really? Please aunt, tell me what are these magic herbs.I will pay you very well if you tell me how and where I canobtain them. My patient has lots of cau cau [money]; hewill pay with gold.

Okay, killer of healthy people. When we arrive at theestate, I will take you to the house of a person who curesrare illnesses only with these miraculous herbs.

Ta Vige was well known for her curiosity. She knew howto prepare water to cure frights, ointments and poultices, andshe could suture injuries. Above all, she was very accurate


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curingmal de ojo[evil eye] of innocent children. She alsocould remove pains from the head and stomach. To cure herpatients, she wrapped their hair around her fingers and whilepulling the hair she spat caazoon them, and that was it.

Aunt, for the diarrhea, what herbs do you use?Oh, you mountain boy from the backwoods, doctors like

you dont know anything; you have to learn from the womenof afe. Look, you obtain the shell of the coconut, boil it,add three leaves of plantain and five drops of lemon, and theillness is finished.

Ta Vige also could cure the fright of the dead andillnesses of the heart. For those ailments she prescribedcooking lemon balm and pimpernel.

Her prestige grew even more when the people discoveredthat this good lady cured out of neighborly love; she nevercharged a cent. Thats why she lived modestly thanks to herwork as a seamstress.

The Zanjn, the Zanjn!At that precise instant a voice was heard shouting withgreat emphasis: thezanjn, thezanjn! Already everyoneglimpsed what all expected to see. Thezanjn, an enormouspit of water, was in sight. A strong wind was shaking thesurrounding grove. During the rainy season it was dangerousto cross. The water was muddy and deep enough in manyplaces to swallow a truck. When the passengers arrivedat the edge, they all exclaimed at the same time: Itscompletely full!


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Thezanjnwas a large, bowl-shaped depression formedwhen the waters of the recalled Loco River overflowed inthe year 1925. It was a fatal time of torrential rains thatwhipped all the northern part of Per, causing irreparabledamage from floods that ruptured channels and rivers.

A dark lady who was wearing a flowered blouse and hadaround her neck a heavy gold chain with a wooden crossasked Barbn, Seor, do you think we can make it to theother side?

Look Seora, the driver answered, this little truckyou see here is capable of many feats. Don Juan has a mindof its own that only lacks the ability to say: Im screwed,but not defeated.

All the passengers climbed down from the truck. Patucoalready knew the routine and went to obtain dry branches,sacks, rocks and lumber. With all this they would improvise akind of small bridge so that the vehicle could ford the pit.

After taking a good look around and probing the depthof the water, Barbn thought he had found a shallow placeto try crossing. The passengers climbed back up on the truckas the drivers assistant waded warily into the dark waterfilling holes with the material he had collected. Almost allof the passengers entrusted their lives to their miraculoussaints.

Ta Vige was nervous. She caressed Cholo and prayedthinking of the Holy Cross of Motupe as they initiatedthe crossing. Meter by meter they advanced toward theother side. There was a moment of suspense when the


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old 29 Ford wobbled, giving the impression that it wouldoverturn. The skill of the driver avoided what wouldhave been a tragedy for the more than twenty passengerswho were eager to reach the land of the famous Tungula,creator of the incomparable whistling huacos.

A Respite Follows the MiracleEveryone was ecstatic when they finally arrived at theopposite edge. They thanked God for the miracle. Just thenan explosion was heard. It was the inner tube of the frontwheel. The rubber tire had blown from the heat, the weightand the years of use.

The wild birds that nested in the trees of that placewere frightened by the noise and flew off in a terrifiedflight. Thezanjnwas a bucolic place. A beautiful forestembraced that pit. One could breathe fresh air andperceive the fragrance of the flowers.

Solar rays illuminated the delicate nests of songbirdsamong the branches of the algarrobotrees, and the windwobbled the enormous hives full of rich honey for the poor.

After a good while, multicolored butterflies arrivedto the edge and kissed the flowers of the willow trees.A concert of wild birds welcomed the visitors who weretraveling from Ferreafe to Batn Grande.

All wished to do business there and to take daily breadto their children who awaited with anxiety the return oftheir mothers and fathers, like the doves that carry in theirbeaks small branches, fruits or nourishment.


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Cholo took advantage of this uncertain moment to takeout his slingshot and head toward a small grove where heheard the warbling of chiroques, chiscos, magpies,planchines,tordosand chilalos. He knew that among those brancheswere nests with baby doves.

Meanwhile, as the poor Patuco removed the inner tubefrom the rim to patch it, someone asked him, Hey, doesthe inner tube have holes?

This tire has more holes than the Merced tomb, theassistant answered without hesitation.

The zanjnwas a rural property where many familieslived and the men worked in the sown fields of the estate.They also sowed their own small parcels of land. They didnot lack for goodyucas, sweet potatoes, and corn. They alsohad fruit-bearing trees. Water never failed to irrigate theirfields. The housewives raised poultry, feeding them corn,carob seeds, and ground sweet potatoes. The turkeys of thezanjnwere famous for being fat, large, and well fed.

Ta Vige was well known here because she always stoppedon her way to the estate to offer her modest creations. Not invain she spent entire nights in her house in Ferreafe peddlingher Pfaff machine, on which she sewed dresses, blouses,wedding gowns, shirts, and pants for children. The good auntsacrificed herself to the extreme. She never complained aboutbad economic situations. When her sister Tarcila passed away,she took charge of five nieces and nephews. With her sewingmachine, needle, thread, scissors, and lungs she managed totake care of five orphans.


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A Cure for the Evil EyeDoa Ines! Doa Ines! the aunt called out several times.No one answered, but behind the door a pitiful crying ofsome creature could be heard. The shrieks were ceaseless.

A dog started barking. The animal apparently was madenervous by the presence of the strange visitor. Doa Vigetried calling out again with more force in her voice.

Wait! Im coming, the owner of the house said. Pleasecome in Seora Virginia.

And the dog?It only barks, nothing more. Its as docile as a man who

is maintained by a woman, answered Doa Ines.The visitor took a look around and called out for Cholo.

He was busy harassinglizards and capons, and trying at thesame time to catch a little dove with a broken wing.

Cholo! Come here. And hurry up, his aunt shouted.The little house of Seora Ines was very welcoming. It

had a pretty patio with colorful flowers that grew in brownclay pots. The ceiling of the rustic house was made ofhinea. Enormous bluebell flowers decorated the brass door.The fragrance of jasmine intoxicated with the perfume ofspringtime.

The ladies hugged each other. Ta Vige kept an eye onthe shaggy dog that continued growling.

What happened Seora Vige. Did the truck get stuck inthezanjn?

No, Doa Ines. A tire burst and now they are trying


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to patch it. The poor tire is like my slippers that are totallyworn out from constant use.

Who is crying in that manner, Seora Ins?Its myzambita. Since dawn she has not let me close my

eyes. My poor little girl screams and touches her belly. Sheopens her arms as if she is asking me something but I haveno idea what it could be. Is there anything I can give her?

Lets see. Bring her here.The seamstress opened her old handbag where she kept

the image of San Judas Tadeo.Ines returned with her daughter in her arms. The girl

complained more. Her crying was pitiful and worrying.The visitor put the little girl on her lap face up and lifted

her skirt. Touching the girls abdomen, she exclaimed, Itsthemal de ojo[evil eye]!

Please bring me a fresh chicken egg. If it is from todayand of a black hen, that would be much better. Ill removethe evil just with the hand.

The mother of the crying girl called to Coqui, her secondchild, and ordered him to go to the neighbor Andrea. Therehe was to ask for a fresh egg of the black hen that Ta Vigehad requested. The boy went running and returned quickly.

Mother, your comadresays these eggs are from thismorning. The white one was laid by the little black hen andthe green one by the one with an ashen comb.

The aunt took them in her hands and put the green oneaside. With the white egg she began to rub the body of thelittle girl from head to toe. God only knows what prayers


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the good seamstress was murmuring. Almost instantly thepatient stopped complaining. The screams ceased and after awhile the girl went to sleep.

It was themal de ojoas I told you, Seora Ines.Malena, the daughter of my comadreAndrea, is respon-

sible. When she came to visit me, myzambitawas very cute.I didnt know the young woman had such a strong eye.

The seamstress broke the egg on the edge of a glass andplaced its contents in the crystal clear water.

Here you can see clearly. If I had not arrived on time, Idont know what could have happened to your little girl.

Doa Ines took her daughter in her arms and carriedthe girl to the bedroom. Then both ladies began a pleasantconversation. The sky was gray in the land of Tungula.

Seora Ines, where is your husband?Santos left at dawn to go to the estate. Tomorrow is

the fortnights payday. I hope he brings money. The childrenmust go back to school. We need to pay their registrationsand buy their uniforms and notebooks. We also need to getmany other things for the house.

Just in case, you need to know that I carry small dressesand skirts, and pants that will fit Coqui.

Oh, Seora Vige, you are such a nice person, but I dontwant to abuse your generosity. Lets do this. If you dont sellsome of your clothes at the estate, we can make a deal whenyou come back this way.

Already it was afternoon. Cholo asked for a glass of freshwater. The sun was burning and the heat was annoying.


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Seora Vige, can Cholo drink chicha?Give it to him. That way he starts becoming a man.Its fresh. By Wednesday it will be very strong. Ive

prepared this chichafor the birthday of my Santos. For sure,friends and family will come. Last year they caught us bysurprise. All our godparents arrived from the port of Eten.They brought a harpist and a singer who also was fantasticplaying the drum. I wish you could come this year to learn thebaile de tierra[dance of the earth]. I know my Santos is going tohave a big celebration. He has uncovered an ancient tomb thathe says has lots of rich items and all from the time of Tungula.

Well, dear lady, for you I would come from Ferreafemounted on a donkey. But even though I die for enjoying thegood cholamusic, this year I cannot dance. I have promisedto keep two years of mourning for my sister Tarcila who diedlast year on April 10.

The chichais delicious, said Cholo as he drank froma little cup. The liquor was made from red corn sweetenedwith a syrup of dark brown sugar and cane sugar.

Beautiful white geese and native ducks were swimmingin thezanjn.

Look Seora, those ducks that you see over there aremine. I will cook them for the birthday of my Santos. Inthe corral I have two goats. There will be plenty ofyonque.Already my Santos has ordered a container of caazofromthe distilleries in Molln.


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4The Whistling Huacos

Cholo was entranced contemplating a ceramic thatwas tied to a string hanging from a beam of theceiling. When Doa Ines saw the great interest theboy was showing in the object, she asked, Do you like it?

Yes, its very pretty, answered Cholo.Seora Ines was a slender young woman with coppery

skin, curly hair, and lively black eyes. Her voice was mildlyhoarse.

She climbed up on an empty saddlebag, untied the smallhuaco, and gave it to the boy saying: Cholo, this is my giftto you. Now its yours.

Thathuaquitohad as an allegory two tiny heads of foxeswith eyes wide open. The small foxes were truly captivating.

Cholo thanked the lady for the gift with a spontaneoussmile. Thats when he remembered seeing ahuaquitoof asimilar color and size at the home of his schoolteacher, SeorMartnez, in Ferreafe. Thathuaquitohad three small foxes.

The boys of the school used to play with thehuaquitoandwere delighted with the musical sound that emitted fromthat piece of baked clay. Without doubt it was a whistler.

Cholo caressed hishuaquito. He wanted to remove thecoating of dust with a damp cloth, but Seora Ines would

not allow it.


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You can never get thishuaquitowet. It is a whistlinghuaco and if it gets wet, it will lose the beautiful sound thatit carries inside.

Ta Vige thanked Seora Ines for the gift she had givento Cholo. While both ladies were conversing, Cholo tookthehuaquitowith love and brought it to his lips with theintention of kissing it. Without thinking he blew it with forceand something unusual happened at that instant.

From that little piece of baked clay emerged a verysonorous sound that for some unknown reason disturbedthe dogs. They began to howl pitifully and the chilalobirdsstarted to sing their sad songs.

Thank you for the gift Seora Ines. It has a beautifulsound. My Cholo will take good care of it. By the way,where did you find this whistlinghuaco? Is it from the Lucatomb?

Look, Doa Vige, you know that my husband Santos is atomb robber. He found it in an unknown tomb near Pomac.There were three related whistlinghuacosof the same sizeand color. The only difference is what you see here. The oneIve given Cholo has two little heads of foxes. The huaquitowith three foxes Santos forgot at a tavern in the New Townof Ferreafe.

And the other one? Cholos aunt inquired.Oh lady, necessity has the face of a heretic. My Santos

needed money, so he sold it to the herbalist from the junglewho lives at the estate. They say he is now a great shamanand they call him Timoteo. Some people say this man has


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lots of money. Everyone believes in his powers. What fewknow is that the most importantarte[sacred and magicalobjects] he has in hismesa[altar of sorcery] is a whistlinghuaco; the very one that is the brother of thehuaquitoyournephew Cholo is taking with him.

What must you be thinking of me Seora Vige that Ididnt invite you anything to eat? With the problems of myzambita, I didnt have time to start a fire in the hearth.

Dont worry, answered the seamstress. I always travelwell covered. The same goes for my Cholo because he is sucha glutton.

Cholo, check to see if they have repaired the tire. Thesun is almost to the left, already its after one oclock.

While Cholo went to the place where the famous DonJuan was recuperating, the two friends continued talking.Suddenly the conversation took an unexpected twist.

In those days, news was circulating in the departmentof Lambayeque that tomb robbers were plundering theancient graves and that at Batn Grande, in the placecalled Sicn, they had found rich treasures from pre-Incacultures.

They had discovered the mummies of leaders who oncegoverned those lands and there, almost on the surface,everything of value was exposed jugs, vases, seashells,conches, trousseaus of gold, crowns, pectorals, bracelets,necklaces, precious stones of many colors, weaving of wool,even dark red corn cobs, and of course the incomparablehuacosof clay.


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The Strange OccurrenceYoure not going to believe what I will tell you. Ay! SeoraVige, it may seem as if I am lying, Doa Ines said. It was thenight of Good Friday. You know that the Holy Week is theperfect time to dig in the ancient tombs. People say thatswhen the spirits abandon their graves to wander and leavetheir buried possessions unprotected. So during those days, thetomb robbers like my Santos feel safe to hunt for the treasuresand remove them. My comadreAndrea is one of the witnessesto the story I am about to tell you. My older sister Estela whonow lives in Patapo and twopaisanitoswho came from thehighlands that night also can verify what I will tell you.

Thepaisanitoswere from Penach, the land of braveferreafanoswho according to our history were neverconquered by the Incas. Even today, these heirs of thatlineage maintain their customs and beliefs. They wear darkred ponchos with black trimming as symbols of the royalblood of that indomitable tribe.

We often gave those young men lodging here. Eventhough they spoke Quechua and barely could chew someSpanish, we were able to understand each other. Doa Inescontinued, On this night, they told of a rumor they hadheard that in a pyramid close by the estate, tomb robbers hadfound an immense archaeological treasure. In Batn Grandepeople only spoke of finding gold tumis[ceremonial knives].

So, what happened? asked the visitor.

Oh, I believe that God punished us. We had drunk many


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cups of top-qualityyonque. You know that those days aresacred, but we continued guzzling the liquor. When we werein the midst of our drunkenness, Santos decided to bring outthe whistlinghuaquitoshe had found.

Oh! its time to leave. Already theyre sounding thehorn. Ta Vige picked up her handbag, but before sayinggoodbye, being very interested in the story, she asked theowner of the house to continue with the narration. The auntloved all tales of witches and mysteries.

So Doa Ines continued divulging the details of whathappened that night of Holy Week.

Santos handed one of thehuaquitosto my sister and theothers to thepaisanitos. Nobody could have anticipated whathappened next. My husband ordered all of them to make thehuaquitoswhistle. Blow with all your strength, he told them.First we heard a deep serious sound. Then a brighter butmelodious sound emerged. All of them tried to get more soundsfrom thehuaquitosthey were holding in their hands. Suddenly,we heard a very clear and beautiful sound, almost like alament. I asked myself, how is it possible that these small piecesof clay can produce such extraordinary musical notes?

And what happened then? Ta Vige inquired.Oh Seora! An unexpected whirlwind agitated the

water of thezanjnand all the birds in the corral cackled.While the music was coming from the whistlinghuacos, amoon of orange color appeared. There, among those hills youcan see in front of us, thunder and lightning exploded. All thepeople who live here and in the surrounding areas panicked.


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Perhaps intuitively, Santos snatched thehuaquitosfromthe performers and put them in this saddlebag that I keepwith me as a reminder of that strange occurrence. When wewent to sleep that night, we were very frightened.

Ta Vige was used to hearing all sorts of strange tales, soshe didnt give great importance to the story told by SeoraInes.

Cholo, its time to go. Say goodbye to the lady. Sothe aunt and nephew walked to the truck. The motor wasalready running and again the passengers climbed onboardto travel to the town of the most fabulous estate that existedin the department of Lambayeque.

The Enigma of MoissSeor driver, do those fat animals belong to the estate? apassenger asked.

I think so Seora. They are worth a fortune, but notjust the bulls, cows, and lambs. Theres also a farm herewhere Moiss has some gigantic young hogs of a specialbreed calledPolanchin.

Isnt it amazing what money can buy? said the passenger.All the travelers seated in the front seats were looking

with rapt attention at the immense grove they were about toenter and the road that now was made almost impassable bythe large puddles.

Then Moiss must have a lot of money. If he can handleall that and maybe the firewood and coal as well, he must feellike a king. It seems that God gave him plenty of everything.


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Not everything that shines is gold, added Ta Vige,who was following the conversation. Life is an enigma.That man everyone is talking about was rescued from thezanjn. It was never known what malevolent mother puthim in an empty basket wrapped in a dirty and frayedblanket and left him to the mercy of his luck. Two ruralguards who by coincidence were passing by bound for BatnGrande and Sangana heard the pitiful crying of the unluckyboy and saved him from dying.

And where did he end up? Surely at the estate house,no? the passenger asked.

The history is long and confused, Ta Vige answered.I have visited this estate for more than ten years. Duringthe 1925 rainstorms Moiss already was a young man. Ialways saw him mounted on his donkey carrying firewood,hay, and some fruits that the land gives.

The people of this area say that Moiss had a startattooed on his left arm. It was a mystery. Nobody knowswhy this muscular, dark-skinned worker appeared at theresidence of a Japanese man named Tokomura.

And doesnt he have a woman? inquired the druggist.Surely, he must have his partner hidden in some place.Men who live alone cannot be trusted.

And the tired Don Juan pressed on for the climb.

The Aunts Remedy of the TreeTa Vige, do you believe epilepsy is curable?

Well Seora, I know it can be cured if the patient is


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young, or better if he is a child. When the patient is an adult,the illness controls the person, so a cure is no longer possible.All is in vain.

And how is it cured? What do you give to the patient?Look, I dont know how to lie, but I have to tell you that

I cured the son of one of my clients of this horrible disease.And with what remedy?With something that many people do not believe is

within reach of their hand. Pay attention because I will tellyou this just once, the seamstress said as she divulged theremedy of the tree.

Just then a little bird with vermilion plumage arrivedand began nibbling on small green branches. That little birdwe are watching is called a carpintero[woodpecker]. Theirbeaks are very strong. With it they can perforate the trunksof the trees to build their nests.

How pretty! the lady injected.The carpinterois a very restless little bird, but there are

boys like my Cholo who hunt them in their nests.So what are they good for?Listen and hush up. When a person doesnt know

something and wants to learn, he has to play stupid. Allright, Ta Vige continued saying, you open this little birdschest and then you remove its heart and cut it crosswise witha shaving razor. The heart is put into a flask with sweet wineand when it has marinated for seven days, you drink the wine.What I mean is that you give the patient a small glass every

six hours.


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And the sick one gets cured?Oh yes! All the nonsense goes away and the person

stays healthy from then on.Cholo was happy. While traveling he contemplated his

huaquitoand tenderly caressed the heads of the foxes. Hethought about blowing thehuaquitobut then decided not to.

Along the road to the town of Batn Grande, thepassengers observed how a rancher, whip in hand, provokeda yoke of bulls trying to get them out of the mud. Furtheron could be seen beautiful horses in a corral surrounded bytrunks of old trees; heaps of carobs attracted mosquitoes,the equines agitated their tails.


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5The Welcome at the Estate

The entrance to Batn Grande was very attractive.Laurels flowering in white and red, the nationalcolors, gave the welcome. In the clear sky, flocksof mountain parrots crossed the space; their shouts couldbe clearly heard. Perhaps they were greeting the presenceof the heroic Don Juan that had barely made it to hisdestination.

The hours have wings! Its already after two in theafternoon, said Barbn to Patuco who had traveled the laststretch standing on the running board of the little truck. Assoon as we arrive, well go where is La Borrada. I could eathalf a cow. My guts are growling, hunger doesnt wait.

Already in the town, the curious received with happinessthe presence of the popular little truck, hero of so manyexpeditions. The sound of his motor betrayed him. Thehousewives greeted the conqueror of the zanjn, to cross itduring those rainy days wasnt a game.

On the main street of the estate next to the market, theold little truck was parked. The people of Batn Grandecontemplated with admiration the popular and muchbeloved carriage. The rain had cleaned the sign that readDon Juan.


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The motor was switched off but it still discharged a hotvapor that was like the sigh of a human on his deathbed whohad become used to saying: Im dying, but Im not buried yet.

All the passengers took their belongings and went insearch of their relatives or friends. Doa Vige said goodbyeto Topiquero and made plans to get together the next day.

Cholo picked up the cardboard boxes. There in front of thesmall market was the house of the Gutirrez family where theaunt lodged. Standing by the door of that welcoming homewas Soledad, the second daughter of Don Carlos.

What a pleasure it is to see you again Ta Vige. I knewyou wouldnt be absent today. The reason? You alreadyknow it.

Soledad was a very attractive young woman with a whitecomplexion, large eyes, distinct eyebrows, and long brownhair that fell to her waist.

How pretty you are daughter. And how is my comadre?the aunt inquired.

She was invited to a lunch, but she will return in a fewminutes. Please come in. This is your house.

In that home everything was in order. The furniture wascovered with heavy fabric. In a picture frame at the centerof a small table could be seen the smiling and happy faces ofthe spouses Gutirrez Castilla. Don Carlos and Doa Elenaappeared to have been in their twenties when the picturewas taken.

On the high part of the living room wall hung a beautifulpainting of the sacred image of the Heart of Jesus.


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And my compadre? Ta Vige inquired.Hes in the administration office. He has many tasks to

perform before payday, particularly with the laborers who workat the estate. Everyone can be absent except for my father.

As soon as the visitor installed herself in the bedroom,she washed her face in the basin. Her nephew did the same.The aunt and nephew gathered the boxes and excusedthemselves as they left the house in a hurry.

Soledad, Ill be back soon. Im going to the forge. Myclients are there.

Go on Seora. Surely my mother will be here when youreturn.

A light wind and a chill wrapped the town. Dark cloudscould be seen far away in the mountain range, but the sunwas still shinning.

La Borradas Kitchen at the ForgeCholo, hurry up! Leave that slingshot in peace. If we getdelayed, were not going to find anything to eat where LaBorrada is at the forge.

The estate house was there where the wide street ended.Two palm trees were rocked by the wind. The day laborerswere making their way to the paymasters office. Some weredressed in white shirts and pants. Others had their dark redponchos and wore leather sandals. They carried saddlebagson their shoulders and machetes on their waists. Chewingtheir sorrows were these farmers of the fabulous land ofTungula.


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The forge was the workshop where the estates farmequipment was repaired. Damin, the master blacksmith,was a mulatto from Zaa. He was a mature man, but he wasa very strong and happy person. Everyone in town knewhim. In the very early hours, he could be found working atthe furnace where he put the tips of plows in red-hot coalsand gave form to many tools.

The blacksmith went by the nickname of Lothar, apopular character of the comic strip El Tony. Lothar was thefaithful servant of the unforgettable Mandrake, the magician.

Lothars neighbors were Teodosio and Rosaura fromIllimani. Teodosio was retired from the army. His sisterRosaura was known as La Borrada [the Erased] becausethe cruel smallpox had left horrible pockmarks on thedark face of this provincial woman. She was a great cookwho served delicious dishes at tables in the forge. She alsoprepared good chichathat she kept in large containers untilshe could bottle it.

The people of Batn Grande used to gossip a lot aboutLothar and La Borrada. These two could understand eachother in ways no one else could.

Lothar was a master player of tejas. People would cometo this town from far away places just to compete in thisgame of skill that involved throwing metal discs on bricks.

Ta Vige and Cholo finally arrived to the forge. In a shortperiod of time they were savoring a well-seasoned bagre[catfish]. During the rainy season, bagresand other types offish were abundant in the river.


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Teodosio, Ta Vige said. I will leave this package withthe brassiere your sister Rosaura asked for. Tell her that I willcome back tomorrow. I have to visit other clients.

The sun went into hiding as clouds full of water beganmarching across the sky. The distant thunder and lightningwere evidence that the rain would pour from jugs that night.

It looks like its going to rain, the aunt observed. Weshould return to the home of my comadreElena. I dont wantto get caught in the rain. I could get a bad cold. Im stillrecuperating from a strong flu.

The rain began falling just as they arrived at the house.Doa Elena was already there. Don Carlos caressed the hairof his daughter Soledad as Ta Vige was commenting on allthat happened during the expedition of the fantastic littletruck Don Juan. Kerosene lamps and flashlights lit thehouse. In the kitchen a candle cried yellowish tears. Thesmoke impregnated the ceiling of old and oxidized calamines[corrugated sheet metal] of zinc that bore the storm.

ComadreVige, did you know that this Sunday is theengagement party of my daughter Margarita?

Yes! Its a small town and huge hell. The news has wingsand flies. I already know. Honestly, I dont remember theboyfriend. Have I met him?

Of course, comadre. Hes the cocoa merchant who iscalled El Serrano.

Oh! Evaristo. How is it possible, isnt that man married?No. He has been with a Negro woman who has two small

children. She lives at the Capote farm. But Evaristo is single.


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It was very clear that Margaritas mother had alreadyresigned herself to accepting the embarrassing situation.

ComadreElena. Is he the sameserranowho has a childwith a Negro woman in La Traposa? I think I also saw him thereawhile back with an attractiveserranita. Couldnt it be that?

She couldnt continue with more details because DoaElena cut her off.

Yes, I already know everything, but what can be done?Nobody can change the heart of a woman in love.

Its a pity, Ta Vige said. Margarita is much youngerthan he is. There is a proverb that says: The love and theinterest went to a picnic one day. And more could theinterest than the love she had. How old is the boyfriend?

Hes already passed forty.And my Margarita?She will be 22 in the month of September.Well, replied the seamstress. For love there is no age.The owner of the house who was somewhat tired after

a long day suggested to all, We need to rest. Tomorrowwe have to prepare the food for the guests who will beattending the engagement party on Sunday. We haventinvited many people, but well probably get lots of peoplepassing by who want to enjoy a free meal.

As always on the last Friday of each month, the shamanTimoteo, who was a neighbor of Don Carlos and Doa Elena,was preparing to conduct his sessions of sorcery. Despite therains, thepacientes[clients] were arriving protected by theirblankets, ponchos, and reed hats.


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The Mesa and the Language of HerbsThat night, while everyone slept in the house of the GutirrezCastilla, Timoteo prepared his potions. The herbs he boiledproduced a sickening odor that inundated and contaminated thesurrounding area, but his neighbors had become accustomed tothe smell. Perhaps to remain on the sorcerers good side, nobodydared to complain to the authorities of the estate.

Cholo was tossing and turning in his bed, unable to sleep.His thoughts were fixed on the whistlinghuaquito, whichwas kept in a cardboard box under the bed of the good andloving aunt.

Already it was after midnight, the rain had ceased andthe silence was almost total. Cholo rose to go to the corral.He had a need to urinate. As he was passing by the kitchen,his attention was caught by a sad singsong accompanied by akind of maraca. He climbed up on the kitchen table and slowlyapproached the wall that abutted the house of the neighboringcurandero[shaman]. Through a small opening he couldobserve some scenes that left him perplexed.

This was a session of witchcraft. Seated on some dirtycushions, Timoteo sang and rattled his chunganas. At his sidewere people who drank a greenish liquid from glasses. Thealzadores[assistants] drank through their nostrils a mixtureof tobacco,yonque, and a powerful herb calledmichathat is ahallucinogen used in the sessions of curanderos.

In fan-shaped seashells they poured a liquid that was

absorbed by thealzadoresand some of thepacientes. When the


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infirm ones began to dance to the rhythm of the chunganas, therain started again but with much more force than before.

Cholo observed everything that was in themesaof thecurandero. On a blanket laid out on the ground, he sawbottles of transparent glass that contained dissected snakesin alcohol, rusty sabers, daggers, rare stones, wilted flowers,andhuacosof all forms, colors, and sizes. Also there werepaper prints with images of San Cipriano, shells, and snailson some small willow tables.

He could see other flasks with live herbs, necklaces ofblue beads, a whip, and two crosses one of stone andanother of white wood. Rain, dances and strange songs,herbs, tobacco, and fragrances, that was the sorcery thatexisted in this region. These are ancient beliefs that arepassed down from generation to generation throughout time.

A horrendous scream suddenly came from a young woman.Cholo trembled but he couldnt stop watching the spectacle.The young woman threw herself to the floor and began to shakelike a poisoned dog. Thealzadoressprinkled caazoon her body.

Timoteo silenced his chunganas. Taking a branch of aquince tree he cut the air with a slashing gesture.

The young woman continued in her delirium, sayingincoherent things. The ones who were dancing with frenzyseemed not to realize what was happening.

A very youngalzadorapproached the maestro Timoteoand whispered in his ear. The curanderosought a small boxof carved wood, opened it, and extracted something thatcaught Cholos attention. It was ahuacoidentical to his, the


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same color and size. Thathuacowas the greatestarteof themesahandled by Timoteo, the most famous teacher of Sicnsorcery.

Timoteo lit four candles. Then he burned the holy stickand taking a little bottle of caangawater he gave a drinkto the woman who was convulsing. In the middle of the litcandles was thehuaquito. That jewel, it was the same onethat Seora Ins always lamented because the tomb robberSantos had sold it for almost nothing.

Cholo was so full of emotion that he almost fell downfrom his perch. Timoteo drank something from a bluish flaskthat he spat in a fine spray on thehuaquito. Then he broughtit to his lips and blew with force. An extraordinary soundemerged instantly from that piece of baked clay.

The dancers became quiet and the young woman stoppedscreaming, the rain ceased and all remained in silence. Choloclimbed down from the table and hurried to the corral torelieve himself.

When he returned to his room he tried to sleep butcouldnt. That mysterious melody, so similar to the one madeby hishuaquito, would not leave him in peace. Soon the songof the rooster could be heard, already it was almost dawn.


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6An Early Start

On Saturday all awoke very early. The corral wasmud. A servant girl swept the living room anddusted the furniture. In the oven made of adobebricks burned the firewood that happily was kept for thisday. At breakfast time all the family was seated around thetable in the dining room.

Ta Vige took the pitcher of hot chocolate and muttered,Its boiling, but thats the way I like it. This chocolate isdelicious. Im sure it must be from Mayascn.

Where is Cholo? Nicolas, the youngest son of DoaElena, asked.

The aunt responded, I guess the sheets have glued himto the bed and hes still asleep. Im going to wake him upbecause we must go to several houses. My clients are awaitingme. I need to take advantage of the day to catch lots of fish.

Agustina, put two tins of water to boil, Doa Elenaordered the servant. The hours are flying. We need toslaughter the pig, clean it, season it, and put it in the oven.I hope Don Crispin started his oven. Yesterday, I saw himat the tambo[small store]. He was drinking wine with thatTopiquero who lives in Ferreafe.

All was planned for Sunday, the day of the engagement

party for Margarita, perhaps the daughter most spoiled by


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her parents. She was beautiful, tall, slender, and the ownerof a prominent bust that was the admiration of many youngmen. Margarita took charge of cutting the necks of thechickens, ducks, and turkeys. The party would be lavish.

That Saturday morning the sun caressed the hills. BatnGrande was bustling with activity; it was fortnight andeverybody expected to be paid. From various locations thelaborers arrived to the estate with mules carrying heavyloads.

The hour of truth was approaching. Almost everyonein the town was aware that on Sunday a lucky man wouldask for the hand of Margarita. One of the Aurich brotherswould be a witness to that commitment. Don Carlos wasmeditative but proud to know that an owner of the estatewould do him that honor.

Meanwhile, the aunt and nephew carefully negotiatedthe muddy streets loaded with their merchandise, tryingto sell enough to make ends meet. In Ferreafe, thefour orphans were awaiting the return of this sacrificingseamstress.

When the town of Batn Grande awoke on Sundaymorning, all the people were optimistic and happy. It wasmonths end and with money more cannot be requested,some said. The day laborers cleared their debts from theprevious two weeks and again gathered provisions. Foodwas the first necessity but they also took stockings, garters,combs, powders, rouge, lipsticks, perfumes and otherthings.


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The Party BeginsA fireworks display and lively music could be heard throughoutthe neighborhood of the estate house and in the old tamboofthe property. Along the counter the laborers were drinking.Then a bottle ofyonquewas only 50 centavos, sweet pastrieswere 10 centavoseach, and a quarter container of Chineserice was 40 centavos.

The Japanese Nakasaki needed several hands todistribute the provisions. Always with his Faber pencil, hekept tabs for the next fortnight of the orders for noodles,canned tuna fish, vinegar, sugar, candles, and matches.

The sky was clear. Out on the main street, the peoplewere witnessing something that is rarely seen. A hawk waspursuing a tender young dove. Both birds were zigzaggingin space until the bird of prey finally trapped the little bird.A laborer from La Traposa exclaimed, As soon as the hawkput his eye on the dove, it captured the soul of the other life!The dove could not escape its fate.

On that wide main street there were two barbershopsrun by Japanese. There a client asked Maeda, What festivalare they celebrating today?

I not know. Here always party, party, happy people.Another client, who was waiting his turn for a haircut,

exclaimed, I believe its ajarana[big party] at the estatehouse! The Grau band from Ferreafe is there.

Really! That band of Negroes plays very well. But how

did they get here if thezanjnis full to its ears?


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They went around by way of Chiclayo, mentioned an oldman. The Aurichs have and when you are rich, all is possible.

The Fatal EpidemicSeveral clients of the forge eatery were commenting aboutthe epidemic that was causing so much havoc in the region.

The bubonic plague was beginning to attack Lambayequetowns, the alarm was general. The plague was coming fromthe adjacent province of Cajamarca. It had caused deaths inIncahuasi, Mayascn, and La Traposa. Each day the plaguewas coming closer to Batn Grande and Ferreafe.

Ta Vige smiled with disdain and said, More is the fearof what is said, than the damage caused by the illness! Iknow how and with what the bubonic is cured.

She had in fact suffered personally from the plague andhad cured herself with a homemade remedy.

Aunt, shouted one of the parishioners. You bettertake the last drink because the plague is close by thezanjn.

Then you better take care of yourself, the womanof Ferreafe answered, because the bubonic plague onlygets you once and if you dont die, then theres nothing toworry about. But just for your information, this plague iscured with the juice of the cucuno. This herb is much morebitter than the mother-in-law of a drunken womanizer likeyou know very well, but it cures. Also, it is good to rubthe infected areas with iodine and Vaseline to reduce theswelling and you have to disinfect the wounds with dilutedphenol.


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La Borrada answered her instantly, Seora, the turkeysare mine, you can take one or two. Later well reach a deal.

Then tomorrow morning I will come for them before Ireturn to my land.

In the tamboworked Seor Cruz who was the right-hand man of the Japanese. This gentleman of Lambayequecontrolled the notebooks of the debtors. On his ring fingerhe wore a huge ring of pure gold. When people asked himwhere the precious metal came from, Don Cruz respondedwith pride, This gold is from the land of Tungula.

Back at the forge, Ta Vige put her hand into a paperbag, removed a pair of lace panties of a heavenly color andoffered them to La Borrada.

No, Seora. You dont owe me anything. I will neverforget the time you cured me of my terrible stomach cramps.Ay,mamita! If it was not for you, I would not be recountingthis story.

She tried to give back the intimate gift, but already theaunt was going out the door. She had to arrive on t

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Tungula's Gift [English-Spanish]

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