foto: Jorge Guerra
Fue así que se originó el pánico y campeó el sálvese quien pueda y el Dios me libre, entre quienes eran testigos y partícipes del pago a la tierra y que no comprendían lo que estaba ocurriendo ahora. Los otros, los lugareños, los hijos del cañón, incluyendo al hombre que oficiara de chamán, sí que se divertían de lo lindo y aprovechaban el alboroto para seguir brindando. Salud. Qué hacer. Resignarse, correr o contraatacar. Esconderse y huir de ese inesperado fin de fiesta o unirse de buena gana, para vivir, sentir y ser parte de las costumbres de los collaguas y cabanas, herederos de una rica tradición cultural que se expresa en el rezo compungido de la Semana Santa, en la alegría desenfrenada del carnaval, en los vivos bordados de los trajes femeninos, en los tributos a la tierra. Y cuando la tarde se va haciendo noche, cuando la fatiga empieza a mezclarse con el jolgorio, la tranquilidad vuelve a imponerse. Pero solo es una tregua, un breve descanso, un armisticio que se quebraría en la plaza de Chivay, tomada por asalto por grupos de entusiastas y achispados comuneros de Hanan Saya, Urin Saya y Ccapa. Las tres parcialidades, los tres ayllus del pueblo.
Yes, that was how it all started, the panic and the free for all and the God get me out of here, among those who were mere witnesses and those who were participating in the offering to Mother Earth, as well as those who had no idea what was happening around them. The locals, the children of the canyon -including the man who was acting as presiding shaman- were all having a wonderful time and took full advantage of the chaos around them to continue drinking each other’s health: “Salud!” What could one do? Resign one’s self, run, or counterattack. Hide or flee from that unexpected finale to the fiesta, or join in enthusiastically in order to live, absorb and feel like part of the customs of the Collaguas and Cabanas, those heirs to a rich cultural tradition expressed in the contrite prayers of Holy Week, in the unbridled joy of carnival, in the colorful embroidery of their women’s clothing, and in offerings made to the earth. And when the afternoon ended and night fell, when all that joyousness was suddenly tinged with fatigue, calm was eventually restored. But this would be a mere pause in proceedings, a brief respite, an armistice that would be broken in the main square of Chivay, taken over in an all out assault by groups of enthusiastic, tipsy villagers belonging to Hanan Saya, Urin Saya and Ccapa; the three bands, the three ayllus, of the community.
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