Global Ceviche

"The Amazonas of Peru (Chapters 9 thru 13 ((end chapters))

Likened
to the Great Walls of Troy Or the Sacred City of Machu Picchu, Akin to a torch,
she, Kuelap—towers Over the Valley below. This: ”Forgotten Fortress”; Death
Temple of Chachapoyas! Crowned, by the mountains Here she stands, cyclopean
stones Forgotten legends: Here she stands alone!…

#1290 3/29/2006
Off and on the sun came out and off and on the rain poured, as if the two
were having a contest who could beat the other, or some kind of timing game, but
now we were at the site, yes, 1000-miles from Lima, at the Forgotten Fortress,
de Kuelap, in the Amazonas of Peru, our destination.
It took 600-years
(there about) to build this monstrous fortress, which is really a mausoleum now,
for the dead occupy it, the Chachapoyas, from 1300-years past: who fought the
Incas for 70-years and finally lost.

Inside the site one can witness
420-houses and towers, thick walls all around the city, and three entrances, an
observatory, at its highest point.

When you walk around it, as we did
for three hours several hours ago, one feels the world has overlooked this site,
that it should be given more attention, yet it was only discovered some 40-years
ago. When I say discovered, I mean to the general public, or outside world; the
Chachapoyas and many folks throughout Peru, knew about this wonder and
empowering site long ago.

It was a long day: from Lima to Chachapoya, to
Kuelap, to this bed in our hotel room. Travel time alone has been 1 hour air
time, 11-hours bus, four hours up the mountain in a van a taxi, and four down,
total: about 20-hours I’ve been in motion, one way or another.

10
Back Down [And the Residue Spirit]
On the way back down the mountain,
the men from the community about thirty of them in all, went and cleaned the
mudslide, the road was passable now. Thus, we stopped at our driver’s house, the
one that owned the Van, and his wife cooked the best Ginny pig I’ve yet eaten in
Peru, and this was my third time I had Ginny pig [Cuy] once in Cuzco, once in
Lima, now in Maria: in the Chachapoyas region. We all sat around a long table,
the electricity went out, so we had to use candles on the table, and a doubled
headed big flashlight to see what we were eating in this adobe house like café;
it’s funny how God throws people together, it was a wondrous evening. The
enchanting darkness of the night, achieving a mission, all nice people together,
all with warm hearts, and a nice meal to boot.
Julio had been having
nightmares, and as we walked through the site (earlier), much of it being dug
up, excavations, I touched a face carved into, or out of the stonewall: it said,
“What do you want?”
“Nothing,” I said and walked away (returning to the
stone face a moment later), then added, “what would make you happy?”
The
Residue Spirit said, “…leave us buried proper!”
The spirit was fearful his
resting spot would be disturbed. Rosa told Julio what I had told he, what the
spirit had said to me, and Julio said in return:
“We have no intentions of
moving things where they do not belong, we are being very careful about this.”
(I had asked Julio for the following three days if he was getting any more
nightmares concerning Kuelap, and the excavations, and he said no. Perhaps, the
spirits are willing to give him the benefit of misgivings: that is, perhaps they
will trust others will do their best not to bring about defilement, ruination,
to their resting place.

11
City Day
[3/29/2006; Morning of:] We
are meeting many people on our trip into the northern part of Peru, known as the
Amazonas.
Today we saw the five mummies at the museum, in the plaza area of
town, then took a ride to a magic well that predates the Incas. Learned about
the Serpents and the Jaguars, the two native groups who fought one another in
the Chachapoyas area, and had renowned archeologist Julio help us understand the
two groups.
This evening we visited a well-known photographers house: down a
winding street, and under some foliage we went, through a gate, and into the
house, where two of his sisters were, with friends. We talked and Maria was
quite happy to be reunited with her friend, as I was to be introduced to him. He
had great posters of the area, as well as his post cards were being sold in all
the stores and cafes of the township, that is, the city of Chachapoyas [Martin
Chumbe].
Tomorrow we go to Carajia, also spelled with a ‘K’; a site about
two hours outside of the city by car, each way; and about a mile plus walk
beyond that. (It would turn out that I’d have to have a young man rent me his
horse to get me back up the long walk, we had down to this site, which would
take place on 3/30/06; and it was a site to behold.)

The Five
Expressions (Mummies of Chachapoyas)
In the museum (INC), of Chachapoyas
reside five mummies:
Side by site—, five-hundred years old: one man, and
four women…!
All carrying familiar expressions of pain and hope.
Number
one: She had agony and pain in her face
Number two: She had misery, from
chin to forehead
Number three: She was in despair, dejection,
Number
four: She was looking up, visualizing something (perhaps hope)
Number five:
He was looking down, contemplating, perhaps his new life to be (reincarnation)
All the mummies rested in a fetus position, seemingly, all with pain and
anticipation…!
Note: Thanks to Julio Rodriguez, much of this poem could be
put together, our archeologist (#1291), for he gave some good insight into this
area of thought, mixed with psychology. And even helped name the poem.
.
During the day on 3/30/06, we also visited a homegrown, nursery, where Rosa
Mesa (of: Chachapoyas), lived on this farm like garden center, showed us around
her magical kingdom of plants; thus I should, and will dedicate this poem to her
“Orqudiario”!
Orqudiario
I think, at Rosa’s plant-nursery, in
Chachapoyas In Los Amazonas—she has a plant for most everything and occasion.
She showed me the fly plant—looked just like fly, to me: Matter-of-fact, it
looked so real I wanted to whack it, But of course I let it be.
And then she
showed me the San Pablo Plant, It gives one an illusion, and then some.
And
then there is the egg-plant, little white eggs Held in placed by the green
little hands of plants; Not good to eat, or medicine, perhaps Good for looks or
nothing.
Then there was the Vitamin D-plant, ‘Good for the bones,’ I heard
her say.
And the Tuna Cantatas, is come kind of plant Used for shoes (the
Panka).
And then there is the punishment plant, Not sure of its real name,
but it is sour All the same: used for bad children Gives a acid taste.
The
menthol plant, gives one fresh breath; And the soup plant, looks like a cactus,
is good for washing Cloths or shoes; and I saw one plant that was Good for
ailments, so I was told.
But to tell you the truth, I liked the fly plant
The most, but I’d still like to swat it If I could.
Notes: taken down during
the tour of the nursery and conversations with Rosa Mesa #1294.

12
The Great Crossover [The Midnight Mudslide]
[3/31/2006—Written while on
the bus ride back to Chiclayo from Chachapoyas.] We rode out of Chachapoyas at
8:00 PM, on the 30th of March, an 11-hour ride to Chiclayo (so I thought, it
would be extended a few hours).
It started raining about 11:00 PM, or three
hours ago into this trip, heavy landslides [huayco/desprendimiento] all over the
roads, just made it through one, now we are at another, the whole road is
covered with rocks and mud; water pouring over a towering rock like a
waterfalls. I went outside to check it out, my wife and I, and a few others. The
bus driver, and his female assistant would simply let us all rot in this damp,
and dark muggy bus, had I not insisted on her opening the door and giving us an
explanation of what exactly was to take place. I should say, my wife related my
inquiry. I don’t think she liked us leaving the bus, but then I don’t care what
she likes at this point. I think we will miss the plane at 10:30 in Chiclayo.
[Later on] We were stuck back there for one and half hours, waiting for the
construction crew to come out and clean the road, saved by the day after a bus
took up the challenge and ran across he mudslide and he made it, I mean it was
about thirty feet long, and the same wide. Had we waited for the crew, knowing
how slow folks are in South America, it would take several hours at best. I mean
I saw people walking across the mudslide, and here Rosa is trying to convince me
how dangerous it was. I told her at the time, I used to play in such things back
home. A little exaggeration, but not much; thus, I have named this the Great
Crossover, anointed and someone may make a movie out of it, according to Rosa’s
worry. Anyhow, after our bus driver saw several buses go through it; he got
enough nerve to crossover. I am writing this a few hours after the fact, still
on the road, perhaps it is 5:00 AM, getting closer to our destination.
I
told Rosa, we were not in a hurry, if we needed to stay over a few days more
because of this mishap, or catch a late plane, I mean, it is not the end of the
world. Maria was also worried, I suppose for me a little bit, and Julio had a
bad dream a while ago, nothing to do with bad spirits, perhaps a good one this
time. He is not breathing well, I suggested it could be his heart; and he think
his shadow spirit, or the shadow of his spirit, while he is sleeping is trying
to tell him something on this order. Whatever the case, he gets tired quickly
for a healthy looking man.
We will have to go directly to the airport once
in Chiclayo, but we’ll make it back to Lima as scheduled it seems. It’s been a
wild trip in a way. Our car broke down yesterday, the fan shut down, and our
driver had to look constantly at the heat gage, and finally we got it fixed at
some town where we had lunch: chicken soup for four people, and a main dish of
chicken and rice or beef, with coffee and coke, all of 26-soles, about $8.75
cents. Not like at the Hilton, but it will do when you are hungry.

13
Closing Notes
A Legend of Sipan
What comes to mind right now, in
closing this short story of my short trip into the Amazonas is a legend told to
me by Julio Cesar our young guide at the Sipan site outside of Chiclayo, where
we went the first day we arrived in Chiclayo; written at that during the visit
to the site (right on the site) on the 27th of March, in the morning (today
being, 4/4/2006); I shall write it out as I felt it at the time, not necessarily
as it was given to me, although I will not distort what I feel to be fact (for
this is suppose to be, in fact, a true story), and it should be said, this
legend was handed down, not written prior to this; for I was on the site,
looking down into the Sipan grave, feeling the moment, and had stepped upon the
pyramid of the sun, looked over the Sipan Valley, and here is the legend:

*The Legend of Ernil Bernal
Advance/From my notes: Ernil Bernal, a
nearby resident had dream that the pyramid had opened; Bernal’s nephew now [to
this writing] paints pictures in blood. It has been said, the king, Sipan’s
spirit, does not like being in a museum. (Well, I can attest to that, in that,
the spirits of Kuelap have told me directly, they do not like being moved about,
this, this must hold some truth to it, now that I look back on the trip.)

The Legend/Dream:
The dream told Bernal, he had to excavate, and
that a bird would show him where to excavate, and that he’d find gold. The
blackbird had a wide wingspan, several feet. Three days passed, and the dream
continued to reappear, and then he excavated some seven meters, and found the
tomb of Sipan, he took 70% of what was in the tomb to his house (later on things
would be found there and brought to the museum). And the spirit of Sipan,
perhaps its guardian, who sits above, several feet, within a cavern overlooking
the tomb, told him, “What you take, things from me, I will take things from
you.” That afternoon his pig died, and he died by a gun shot would by the
police. (1987)"