ABSTRACT
 Title of dissertation: UKHU MANKAKUNA:  CULINARY 
REPRESENTATIONS IN QUECHUA CULTURAL 
TEXTS 
Alison Marie Krogel, Doctor of Philosophy, 2006
 Dissertation directed by: Dr. Regina Harrison
 Comparative Literature Program
 Department of Spanish and Portuguese
 This dissertation explores culinary representations within colonial and 
contemporary Quechua texts selected from the genres of oral narrative, photography, 
painting, historical chronicle, song, poetry and the novel. The first chapter presents a 
cultural history of Andean foodstuffs, as well as an ethnographic narrative based on 
interviews with vendors and cooks in the Cuzco Central Market. The ensuing analysis 
reveals some of the conflicts and negotiations associated with the market?s hierarchy of 
profits and prestige. Chapter two focuses on pre-colonial and colonial culinary 
representations as portrayed in various Incaic Quechua hymns, the Comentarios reales
 and religious canvases, while the third chapter explores contemporary representations 
of Quechua female cooks in Los r?os profundos, Asunta Quispe Huam?n?s 
Autobiografia and the photographs of Mart?n Chambi. Chapter four discusses the 
representation of the malevolent layqa wayk?uq (?witch cook?) in a number of Quechua 
willakuy (oral narrations) which I recorded, transcribed and translated in highland 
villages of Southern Per?. 
In analyzing the nuances and levels of meaning contained within examples of 
Quechua expressive art, I offer semantic and syntactic readings of the texts while also 
considering the socio-economic, historical and political contexts in which they were 
created. I also explore the ways in which Quechua artists manipulate the representation 
of Andean foodstuffs and cooks as an oppositional tactic for evading and manipulating 
the repressive tendencies of powerful political, economic and social discourses. I argue 
that in these texts, the ?everyday practice? of cooking allows Quechua women to take 
an active role in shaping their society and the lives of their families and community.
 In addition to exploring some of the unique aspects of Quechua aesthetic 
expression in both colonial and contemporary texts, this dissertation concludes with a 
discussion of food politics and policies in contemporary Per?. Scholars studying food?s 
role in society have long provided important insights in disciplines such as history, 
philosophy, anthropology, literature and sociology. By strategically crossing over these 
disciplinary boundaries in choosing theoretical and methodological tools, this 
dissertation creates a dialogue with the fields of Andean Studies, Latin American 
Studies, Native American Studies, Comparative Literature, Anthropology and Food 
Studies. 
UKHU  MANKAKUNA:  CULINARY REPRESENTATIONS IN QUECHUA CULTURAL
 TEXTS
 by
 Alison Marie Krogel
 Dissertation submitted to the Faculty of the Graduate School of the
 University of Maryland, College Park in partial fulfillment
 of the requirements for the degree of
 Doctor of Philosophy
 2006
 Advisory Committee:
 Professor Regina Harrison, Chair
 Associate Professor Ralph Bauer
 Professor Sandra Cypess
 Professor John Fuegi
 Associate Professor Eyda Merediz
 Professor Barbara Weinstein, Dean?s Representative
? Copyright by
 Alison Marie Krogel
 2006
ii
 For my parents who never once allowed me to doubt myself, supporting me always.
 *
 Para Gustavo que me ha acompa?ado durante tantas aventuras, explorando tantos caminos, 
siempre ayud?ndome a ver y a entender las cosas desde nuevos puntos de vista.
 *
 Qankunapaq ?a?aturaykuna: Raquel, Hern?n, Millie, Jos?e, Dennis, Lucho, Wency, Rosa, 
Grimaldo, Paulina, Elisa, Dominga, llipin Quico llaqta runakunapaq--  qankuna 
yachachiwarankichis, yanapawarankichis, mihuyta qowarankichis, ?anta rikuchiwarankichis?
 Tukuy sonqoywan, yusulpayki.
iii
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
 This dissertation never would have been completed without the intellectual and moral 
support of my dissertation advisor, Dr. Regina Harrison. The project has benefited in 
innumerable ways from her thoughtful and detailed readings of its various incarnations. 
Wency Condori Callapi?a helped me to transcribe hours of taped Quechua narratives 
and introduced me to the wonderful world of radio ?ak?aqs presented on the program 
?Viaje a lo desconocido?. Rosa Quispe and Grimaldo Quillahuam?n kindly shared their 
food, frutillada and willakuykuna with me. Hern?n Quillahuam?n Quispe graciously 
agreed to introduce me to the highly skilled story spinners who live in his village of
 Ch?akalqocha, Chincheros. Edith Zevallos Apaza?s enthusiastic and comprehensive 
lessons on Quechua suffixes, infixes and other linguistic subtleties helped me to come 
to learn more about the beautiful complexities of her language. Over the past several 
years, Raquel Alejo Mango, her brothers Dennis and Luis and her beautiful children 
Milagros and Jos?e have been my second family in Cuzco, teaching me ?street-wise? 
Quechua phrases, how to maneuver ?properly? through the baratillo flea market and 
accompanying me on all sorts of spur of the moment adventures throughout the 
Department of Cuzco. 
Friends in South America and the D.C. area?Ana Lisa Luna, Ricardo Castro, Santiago 
Castro Luna, Rebeca Moreno, Mart?n Negr?n, Fiona Negr?n-Moreno, Rosina 
Tricanico, Juli?n Tricanico, Silvia Rodr?guez and Arnaldo Rodr?guez?welcomed me 
into their homes after fieldwork and first drafts had been completed and I found myself 
without a permanent address. My colleagues in the Comparative Literature Program 
have provided me with intellectual and moral support throughout the various stages of 
this journey-- Louise Clement and Jen Dix have been key elements of this CMLT 
support system and to them I will always be grateful. 
Whether wandering across the Bolivian altiplano or through the mysterious 
underground tunnels of the Library of Congress, Gustavo Fierros has accompanied me 
with patience, intelligence, humor and a sense of adventure. His positive energy and 
companionship have helped to keep me intellectually and emotionally centered 
throughout the gestation of this project. Finally, I must especially thank my parents, 
Diane and Jerry Krogel and my sister Erin. For years, the three of them have helped to 
keep my spirits up with phone calls, care packages and visits to Latin America when I 
needed them most. And of course, you three have always been my first audience for all 
things literary and culinary.
iv
 TABLE OF CONTENTS
 List of Figures??????????????????????????.v
 Introduction???????????????????????????.1
 An Overview of the Multiple Significances of Food in Society????.??.?.1
 Methodologies and Theoretical Perspectives???????...???????.6
 The Importance of an Interdisciplinary Inquiry?????.?????...6 
A Case for the Detailed Textual Analysis and the Multi-Genre Narrative 
     Study...????????????????????????..?.?7 
            The Categories of Inside and Outside Meanings??????????.12
             The Aesthetics of Semantic and Syntactical Balance in Quechua 
Cultural Texts??????????????..???????.?...14
 Everyday Tactics and the Act of Cooking???????..???.??15
 Food and Language..?????????????.?????????.?..16 
A Taste of the Chapters that Follow??.?????.??..????????22 
Chapter I:  A Cultural History of the Quechua Food-universe?????.??.30
 Hierarchies of Prestige and Profits in Cuzco?s Culinary Marketplace??..??..30
 A Brief Cultural History of the Quechua Food-universe?????.??.??..44 
The Quechua Food-universe and Gastronomical Colonialism?????51 
Food, Cooking and the Construction of Identities?????...????.?.?..54 
The Role of Food in Peruvian Quechua Communities: 
Examples Past and Present?????????..?????????57
 An Introduction to Andean Foods??????????????????...65 
Papa.............................................................................................................66 
Sara.............................................................................................................73 
Quinua.........................................................................................................80
 Uchu.........................................??..............????..................?.?..82
 Cuy...................................................????.. ??.......................??.85
 Chapter II:  The Quechua Food-universe in Tahuantinsuyu and Colonial Per?:  
                      A Vehicle for Religious Expression and Adaptive Resistance??.93
 Food as a Vehicle for Religious Communication and Expression in         
Tahuantinsuyu?????????????.?????????????94
 Ritual Meals and Food Sacrifices in Tahuantinsuyu????????..95 
Feeding the Ancestors in Tahuantinsuyu????????.??.??101 
Balancing Poetic Tone: Praise and Petition in Incaic Verse?????.???104 
            Father Molina?s Transcription of Incaic Hymns and the Question of 
            Authenticity??????????????????.??..???115 
Aesthetic Representations of Food as an Oppositional Tactic:  Comentarios reales
 and the ?Escuela Cuzque?a??????????..??????????.?126
 Garcilaso?s Presentation of Food and Fact in Los Comentarios Reales?126 
Visual Representation of the Quechua Food-universe on Colonial 
Canvases????????????????..????????..134
v
 Chapter III:  Representations of ?Outside Cooks? in Contemporary Quechua 
          Cultural Texts?????????.???????????.149
 Struggling for Socio-Economic Stability and the ?Everyday Practice? 
of Cooking???????????????????????????.149            
The Historical Rise of the Restaurant, the Chicher?a and the 
?Outside Cook?????????????????????????...?154  
The Representation of Rebellious Chicheras in Los r?os profundos?????..161 
Chicheras and Chicher?as in the photographs of Mart?n Chambi??.????.178 
Representations of Cooking and the Path Towards Economic Independence 
in a Quechua Testimonio???????????????????.??..189
 Chapter IV:  Powerful Forces in the Kitchen, Representations of Supernatural 
          Cooks in the Quechua Oral Tradition???????.????.207
 Oral Tradition, a Complex and Dynamic Genre??????????..??..207
 Representations of the Cook in Quechua Oral Narratives?...???????..214 
Representations of Supernatural Cooks in the Contemporary 
           Quechua Willakuy??????????...???????????217
 Layqas, Saqras and Condenados in the Kitchen?????..????..219 
?Ukuku kimsa wawayuqmanta??????? ?????.????..227 
?Isicha Puytu????????. ?????????...?????...228 
A Pair of Unsettling Willakuy:  ?Yana Kuru? and ?Qholla wawata
 condenadotaq??????........................?????...........................234 
?Layqa wayk?uq????? ????????????.?????.238 
Conclusion:  Globalization and the Quechua Food-universe????????250
 Food Supply Dilemmas in Per?: Past and Present?????????..??...253
 Who Benefits from the Export of Andean Foodstuffs??????.. ?..256 
Changes within the Quechua Kitchen:  Intersections of the Global 
and the Local???????????????????????..259 
Per??s New ?Alimentary Geography? and the ?Cocina Novoandina???266
 Urban Migration and Changing Alimentary Patterns?????.??...269 
Bibliography:  ?????????...???????????????. 245
vi
 LIST OF FIGURES
 Figure 1:  La ?ltima cena, Marcos Zapata, mid-18th century..................................... 138
 Figure 2:  ?Se?oritas en la chicher?a?, 1927???????????????? 184
 Figure 3:  ?Mestiza tomando chicha?, 1931???????????????? 185
 Figure 4:  ?Vendedora de Chicha en Quiquijana?, 1930???????????. 188
1
 Introduction
 An entire ?world? is present in and signified in food . . . [it] transforms itself into situation and performs 
a social function, it is not just physical nourishment.
                                          Roland Barthes  ? Toward a Psychosociology of Contemporary Food    
             Consumption?
 An Overview of the Multiple Significances of Food in Society: 
In all societies and cultures food and its acquisition, preparation and 
consumption are --at least to some extent-- symbolically loaded.1 Even when expanding 
the comparative periscope to encompass remote historical and geographical contexts, it 
is impossible to encounter a society in which the function of food does not rise above 
the purely nutritional. As the philosopher Louis Marin asserts, ?all cookery involves a 
theological, ideological, political and economic operation by the means of which a non-
 signified edible foodstuff is transformed into a sign/body that is eaten? (121). A 
concern with the ?meaning? of food, however, does not exclude an interest in the ?social 
role of food? (Goody 33). Indeed, studies focusing on the importance of food as an 
indicator of the political, economic and cultural intricacies of a society have provided 
important insight for disciplines such as history, anthropology and sociology for many 
decades. 
For historians, studying the production and distribution of certain foodstuffs 
often illuminates complex aspects of demographic patterns, or the political economy of 
a particular moment in history.2 Sidney Mintz?s excellent study entitled Sweetness and 
Power, traces the ways in which increased sugar consumption in eighteenth-century 
2
 England contributed to the sense of a new ?respectability? among working class 
Britons, while concomitantly increasing the demands placed on the imperial political 
and economic system of West Indian slavery. In this way, studying the new uses of one 
sort of food serves to illuminate processes occurring both on the micro stage of English 
domestic life and also within the complex, macro web of international cultural, political 
and economic histories. 
For anthropologists, the study of food often serves as a tool for understanding 
kinship relationships, marital customs, religious rituals, inheritance patterns, or 
cosmological myths.3 In her ethnography Land, Labour and Diet in Northern Rhodesia,
 Audrey Richards presents her oft-cited argument that food is more fundamental than 
sex and that hunger (that is to say the search for, or the lack of food) is the ?chief 
determinant of human relationships, initially within the family, but later in wider social 
groups, the village, age-grade, or political states? (ix). She goes on to demonstrate how 
the giving or receiving of certain cooked foods often symbolizes the acceptance of 
various legal or economic relationships (ibid. 127). Yet the most well-known 
anthropological text regarding food is arguably Claude L?vi-Strauss? study of 
mythologies entitled, Le cru et le cuit. In this book L?vi-Strauss observes that food 
(particularly the initial discovery of essential subsistence crops:  corn, potato, wheat, 
yams, rice) plays an important role in the mythology of most cultures. His notion of the 
raw and the cooked locates food as the primary distinguishing characteristic of all 
humanity.  Cooking he declares, ?. . . has never been sufficiently emphasized, [it] is 
with language a truly universal form of human activity? (ibid.). He argues that the rise 
of cooking signals a move towards civilization, thus the difference between raw and 
3
 cooked foodstuffs becomes the major distinction between animals and humans. As the 
anthropologist Edmund Leach explains in his interpretation of L?vi-Strauss, ?Men do 
not have to cook their food, they do so for symbolic reasons to show that they are men 
and not beasts. So fire and cooking are basic symbols by which Culture is distinguished 
from Nature? (Introduction to a Science 92).
 Similar to many anthropological and historical studies, sociologists and 
philosophers often consider the role of food in the construction of gender, class and 
ethnic identities, while also exploring such complex questions as the links between 
food and sex, food related taboos, preferred tastes and flavors, as well as food inspired 
pleasure and disgust.4 For the sociologist Michel de Certeau, the act of cooking forms 
an integral part of his theory of ?everyday practices?? ways of operating which allow 
one to elaborate and deploy clandestine ?tactics? in order to creatively elude the 
institutional, ?disciplinary? pressures of society?s hegemonic forces. Studies of the role 
of food in literature by scholars such as Diane McGee, Sarah Sceats and Gian-Paolo 
Biasin reveal that important insights can be gained from the investigation of the literary 
intersections of consumption habits, women, culture and history. 
This dissertation was conceived with the intention of adding to the rich 
scholarly tradition of ?food studies? carried out predominantly in the social sciences and 
as a contribution to the growing body of work that considers the importance of food for 
literary studies. The title of this dissertation refers to a Quechua adage, ?Ukhu 
mankakuna? which literally means ?deep cooking pots?, an expression used to describe 
a particularly resourceful or creative woman who can always cook a quick and 
delicious meal in the spur of the moment and with surprisingly few ingredients. The 
4
 cooking metaphor is often extended, so that it may also refer to a woman capable of 
coming up with a quick and substantial answer or solution when one is unexpectedly 
demanded of her:  ?even when life became quite difficult at least my sister could count 
on her deep cooking pot? (Rosa Quispe, personal communication). In the Quechua texts 
described below, the women who prepare and serve food in markets, restaurants, street 
corner stalls and kitchen tables depend on their ?ukhu mankakuna? to solve all manner 
of problems and obstacles?personal, political, economic, sentimental and otherwise. 
Cooks traffic in the marketplace of taste and part of their power lies in their 
unique ability to manipulate and inspire our senses. One?s enjoyment of a meal depends 
on the complex sensory perception of the colors, smells, textures and, of course, tastes 
of the food arranged atop the plate. Of all of our five senses-- the oral, visual, tactile, 
aural, olfactory-- the sense of taste has been deservedly accorded the lion?s share of 
attention in culinary practices and studies. Scientists and our tongues have identified 
the human palate?s ability to perceive five fundamental tastes: salty, sweet, sour, bitter 
and umami.5 Like the cook who seeks to balance these tastes in a meal prepared for an 
esteemed client, the multi-genre study of Quechua texts in the following pages will 
engage the five senses --either directly or in the imagination-- as the reader listens to 
and views the complex tastes, smells and textures presented in these artistic 
assemblages. The following chapters explore the representations of food and cooks 
within a variety of colonial and contemporary Quechua texts selected from the genres 
of lyrical poetry, novel, testimonio, oral narrative performances, photography, painting 
and the historical chronicle. The analyses presented below seek to reveal the layers of 
5
 meaning and Quechua cultural categories carefully constructed just below the surface 
of these texts. 
Jack Goody, in introducing his own ethnographic and theoretical study of 
cooking, argues for the division of food studies into four main areas:  growing, 
allocating, cooking and eating which he envisions as representing the phases of 
?production?, ?distribution?, ?preparation? and ?consumption?. While the present study 
discusses all four of these areas, most chapters primarily focus on the latter two phases 
of these divisions-- ?preparation? and ?consumption?. The use of the term food-universe 
in the pages that follow refers to the multifarious details involved in choosing, 
preparing, presenting and consuming different foods. Although Goody places ?the 
market? under the category of ?Allocating/Storing?, in this study market cooks and 
vendors will be considered as key elements of the Quechua food-universe. The cook?s 
construction of menu for an ?everyday? or ?holiday? meal for her family or clients, her 
resourceful substitution of the ingredients at hand for the items called for in the old 
family recipe, her decision as to whether she should use her ?everyday set? of plates and 
mugs or her ?guest set?, the order in which the courses are served and the table manners 
of her hungry guests would, however, all be considered integral elements of the food-
 universe.6
6
 Methodologies and Theoretical Perspectives:
 The Importance of an Interdisciplinary Inquiry
 In order to most effectively carry out a multi-genre inquiry one must adopt a 
methodological approach informed by the studies of scholars working in a variety of 
disciplines.7 The use of this sort of comparative framework creates a more rich and 
nuanced study characterized by strategic expeditions across disciplinary boundaries in 
search of relevant primary texts, or theoretical and methodological tools. Food is a 
topic of interest in many different disciplines, thus it should come as no surprise that 
scholars working in various academic fields have published important studies that 
focus on the complex subject of food.8 In discussing the relationship of food to 
language, identity construction and ?everyday tactics?, the arguments and observations 
presented in the following chapters benefit from the theoretical formulations and 
scholarly contributions published by scholars working in many different academic 
disciplines. 
The present project benefits intellectually from the contributions made by 
scholars in various fields while avoiding the danger of depending too heavily on any 
one discipline?s academic jargon or theoretical paradigms. For instance, many of the 
textual analyses presented in this dissertation draw on theoretical works written by 
scholars working in academic disciplines such as:  anthropology (Clifford Geertz?s 
notion of ?thick description?, Claude L?vi-Strauss? concept of cooking as language), 
sociology (Michel de Certeau?s ?tactic? and ?everyday practice?) and history (Sidney 
Mintz?s categories of ?inside and outside meanings?). The texts of these scholars as 
7
 well as others working in fields such as literary studies, linguistics and cultural studies 
will be discussed in the chapters that follow. 
In several sections of this dissertation (particularly in chapters one and four), 
the technique of participant-observation allowed me to obtain important information 
related to the Quechua food-universe and to interview market cooks, food vendors and 
storytellers who generously offered to help me understand more clearly, some of the 
complex meanings associated with certain food related behaviors, practices and 
vocabularies. While the technique of close-reading is a key tool for understanding 
many aspects of the narratives explored below, most of these interpretations also 
reference significant historical, economic, social, political and cultural contexts which 
contribute to the creation of a particular text?s meaning.   
A Case for the Detailed Textual Analysis and the Multi-Genre Narrative Study 
The texts discussed in this study contain multi-valenced levels of meaning 
which invite close-reading analyses. Indeed, many Quechua texts call for a carefully 
nuanced reading due to the fact that often times Quechua writers, storytellers, painters 
and photographers must code?either consciously or unconsciously-- the presentation 
and elaboration of their texts as a tactic for avoiding the repressive or censorial 
tendencies of hegemonic forces. The detailed reading of cultural texts shares much in 
common with the ethnographic technique described by Clifford Geertz as ?thick-
 description?. This methodology identifies key moments in the ?text? which may be 
partially hidden under complex layers of language, symbols, stylistic devices, ritual, or 
even everyday tactics.9 ?Thick-description? requires the cultural critic (and I would 
8
 argue, the literary critic a well) to pay close attention to context in constructing a 
textual reading:
 If anthropological interpretation is constructing a reading of what happens, then 
to divorce it from what happens?from what, in this time or that place, specific 
people say, what they do, what is done to them, from the whole vast business of 
the world?is to divorce it from its applications and render it vacant. (Geertz 
18)
 In all of the analyses presented below I have carefully considered the historical, social, 
cultural and economic contexts in which a particular text was created, while also 
considering the narrative moment in which a particular passage or chapter appears 
within the body of the text in question.
 Geertz?s conception of the ethnographer?s task can also be applied to that of the 
literary critic who constructs detailed textual analyses: 
What the ethnographer is in fact faced with . . . is a multiplicity of complex 
conceptual structures, many of them superimposed upon or knotted into one 
another, which are at once strange, irregular, and inexplicit, and which he must 
contrive somehow first to grasp and then to render . . . Doing ethnography is 
like trying to read (in the sense of ?construct a reading of?) a manuscript?
 foreign, faded, full of ellipses, incoherencies, suspicious emendations, and 
tendentious commentaries . . . (ibid. 10) 
In constructing the textual analyses in this dissertation I have confronted many of the 
challenges described above by Geertz. The interpretation of transcribed Incaic hymns, 
testimonios, songs, riddles and willakuy oral performances always requires the critic to 
confront the issue of mediation (from oral to written form and from the narrator, via the 
editor, to the written page and the reader). Moreover, all of these Quechua texts invoke 
culturally specific aesthetic categories and techniques which must be carefully 
considered and unraveled in the process of creating an analysis. By identifying and 
analyzing these Quechua aesthetic categories and other key textual moments I do not 
9
 solely intend to persuade the reader to accept my answers and assertions, but I also 
hope to pose questions that will spark further speculation and research. 
This dissertation illustrates the manner in which the Quechua food-universe 
both affects and inspires creative and constructive participation in the process of 
adapting to social, political and economic pressures in the Andes. In light of this goal, 
chapters two, three and four present close-readings of texts in which the presence, 
preparation, or consumption of food serves as an important source for the conveyance 
of the text?s meaning. These analyses focus on important narrative moments in the 
colonial chronicles of Crist?bal de Molina and the Inca Garcilaso, paintings pertaining 
to the artistic movement known as the ?Escuela Cuzque?a?, the Jos? Mar?a Arguedas 
novel Los r?os profundos, the testimonio Autobiografia by Gregorio Condori Mamani 
and Asunta Quispe Huam?n, images created by the photographer Mart?n Chambi and in
 several narratives pertaining to the Quechua oral tradition. In each of the written, oral 
and visual genres explored below, the representation of the Quechua food universe 
functions as a narrative device that aids in developing (either subtly or explicitly) the 
author(s)? argument, moral lesson and/or critique. The detailed analysis of culinary 
representations in these texts also demonstrates how Quechua aesthetic categories ?in 
particular, the importance of creating both semantic and syntactical equilibrium?
 function on the level of both form and content in various genres.
 While the concept of genre originated with the Greeks and their distinctions 
between dramatic, epic and lyrical forms of literature, since the nineteenth century 
genre has come to be understood as a ?category? of painting, novel, or film which is 
characterized by its particular form or purpose (Chamberlain and Thompson 1-3, Culler 
10
 74).10 In literature, genre can be defined by form (poetry, drama, letters, song, long 
narrative vs. short narrative), by mood (comedy, tragedy, critical, romantic), or by 
content (history, autobiography, fantasy, mystery). Genre can be understood ?not as a 
rigid form of classification but more akin to language, with its fundamental flexibility, 
but at the same time its common assumptions between writer, speaker and audience of 
conventions, manner and tone, forms of delivery, timings, settings, shapes, motifs and 
characters? (Chamberlain and Thompson 4). Given that texts pertaining to the same 
genre often share similar conventions (in terms of form, mood and content), 
communication between author, text and reader is facilitated through genre?s ability to 
focus attention and expectations (Ryan 19). As Northrop Frye points out in his ?Theory 
of Genres?, generic distinctions in literature are primarily based on the question of 
presentation:  ?Words may be acted in front of a spectator; they may be spoken in front 
of a listener; they may be sung or chanted; or they may be written for a reader? (247). 
This dissertation discusses culinary representations in genres such as:  testimonio, 
novel, historical chronicle, painting, photography and oral narrative performances 
known as willakuy. These texts will all be considered as polyvocal works of art that 
present characters, events and settings in a determined time and space. In these 
narrative texts, meaning is created through the complex and dynamic interaction 
between the audience, the text and the text?s creator. 
In chapter one for instance, information and excerpts from interviews with 
market women, together with my own observations of the market, inform the chapter?s 
ethnographic narrative which describes hierarchies of prestige and profit present within 
the Cuzco marketplace. In chapter two, the discussion of genres such as Quechua lyric, 
11
 colonial chronicle and painting reveal how these texts? narrative devices use the 
representation of food as a rhetorical strategy. The Incaic hymns transcribed by Molina 
narrate the needs, struggles and desires of the Inca rulers through lyrical, one-way 
conversations with the gods. The Inca Garcilaso creates a complex narrative in 
Comentarios reales by masterfully weaving songs, myths, stories and poems from the 
Quechua oral tradition together with anecdotes from his own youth, while 
concomitantly maintaining a ?dialogue? with other historians, chroniclers and linguists 
of his time. 
The discussion of Los r?os profundos in chapter three reveals the complex, 
intertextual nature of this novel since Arguedas draws on the Quechua oral tradition in 
creating characters, points of view, as well as plot conflicts and resolutions. The 
narrative quality of the testimonio genre also becomes evident in this chapter since like 
many of the texts mentioned above, Autobiograf?a also integrates anecdote, practical 
advice, Quechua songs, stories and myths in the process of recounting of a life history. 
Finally, the fourth chapter of this dissertation focuses on examples of oral narratives 
which often utilize non-verbal signals?such as hand gestures, facial expression, sound 
effects and body position?in order to construct characters, deliver dialogues and 
advance the action of the plot. As a primarily oral language, it should not surprise us 
that throughout history Quechua cultural narratives have been created in a variety of 
different genres and that even those narratives which do pertain to written genres most 
always incorporate aspects of the oral tradition into their pages. Of course, each of 
these genres uses different narrative or lyrical devices in different ways, but in each of 
12
 the Quechua cultural texts discussed below, the representation of food serves a key role 
in the development of the text?s meanings, messages, central arguments and critiques. 
The Categories of Inside and Outside Meanings
 In the texts explored below, representations of the Quechua food-universe 
reveal the complexities of various political, economic and cultural situations. In these 
contexts, the ?everyday practice? of cooking becomes a complex act infused with 
meanings that extend well beyond the serving platters placed atop the table. The 
preparation, allocation (whether sold or offered for free) and consumption of food often 
conveys cultural, political and economic meanings explicitly addressed within a text, or 
which may only allude to a larger, historical context in which the text was created. For 
this reason, Mintz?s categories of outside and inside meaning serve as useful analytical 
tools for the construction of the literary analyses that follow. Mintz describes two types 
of meaning; outside meaning refers to ?what consumption, and its proliferated 
meanings for the participants, can signify for a society as a whole? with regards to ?. . . 
economic, social, and political (even military) conditions?, while inside meaning 
describes ?daily life conditions of consumption? which are created ?by imparting 
significance to [one?s] own acts and the acts of those around them? and that arise after 
the creation of outside meanings has already commenced (Tasting Food 153, 20, 23). 
Inside meanings are those created ??inside the rituals and schedules of the group, 
inside the meal or eating event, inside the social group itself--? (ibid. 151). In many of 
the texts explored below, representations of the Quechua food-universe often convey 
meanings that concomitantly lie outside [the text and the immediate experience of the 
13
 cook and the diner] and inside [the text and the character/individual?s daily life] and. In 
the analyses of nearly all of the texts discussed below, the impossibility of discretely 
separating ?outside? from ?inside? meanings becomes clear. 
Beyond the notions of ?outside? and ?inside? meanings described by Mintz, 
these spatial and conceptual categories can also help to establish the important 
distinction regarding the location in which a cook serves her dishes. In the following 
pages it will become evident that the ?tactic? of cooks who serve their wares ?outside? a 
private home can generally be summarized as the exchange of culinary knowledge for 
cash. The income resulting from this exchange usually offers a woman increased 
independence in terms of her choices of whom she will live with (a man, family 
members, friends, or alone), in which neighborhood she will live, where her children 
will attend school, or how she will spend her leisure time. On the other hand, cooks 
who serve their food ?inside? a private home (whether this be with or without cash 
remuneration11) may not enjoy the same degree of independence as ?outside? cooks. In 
chapter four, however, it becomes clear that they use their access to ingredients as a 
tactic for manipulating the diner?s body both physically and mentally. In the chosen 
texts, cooks working both inside and outside the family home utilize their access to the 
Quechua food-universe as a vehicle for increasing socio-economic independence, the 
continual (re)construction of unique group and individual identities, the infusion of 
meaning into everyday existence and the communication of desires, gratitude, or even 
violence to family and community members, clients, or deities.
 Finally, the categories of inside and outside also help to describe the critical 
approach which I have implemented in constructing the literary analyses that appear 
14
 below. In most all cases, I have sought to interpret the meaning(s) of a particular text 
by considering both its formal literary qualities contained inside the text, as well the 
importance of outside contextual information regarding relevant social, historical, 
economic, political and cultural phenomena. While it is neither possible nor desirable 
to consider inside and outside meanings as entirely independent from one another, the 
categories are useful for articulating my strategy of fusing close-reading literary 
analyses with a discussion of the socio-cultural, economic and historical contexts which 
inform both the form and the content of the narrative.12
 The Aesthetics of Semantic and Syntactical Balance in Quechua Cultural Texts
 Using the categories of ?inside? and ?outside? to describe my strategy for 
constructing textual readings seems particularly appropriate given the importance that 
Quechua creators place on the creation of balance or symmetry within their poems, 
hymns, riddles and songs. In analyzing instances of symmetry in Incaic texts, Regina 
Harrison discusses the Incaic semantic categories of yanantin and pacta (?perfectly 
matched objects?), chacu and chuullu (?deviance from the ideal of a matched pair?), in 
addition to the complex notions of ayni, mita and mink?a (described in detail in chapter 
two) (Signs, Songs and Memories 49-53). Bruce Mannheim notes the importance of the 
Quechua poetic device of the ?semantic couplet? which creates both syntactical and 
semantic balance within hymns, songs and poems, while Billie Jean Isbell analyzes 
reciprocity and semantic balance and structural opposition in Quechua riddles 
(Mannheim The Language of the Inka 133-134, Isbell ?The Ontogenesis? 39, 46-47). 
Studies of the concept of camay in pre-colonial Andean texts reveal the importance of 
15
 cosmic doubling in Quechua culture, whereby all humans and animals on earth possess 
a ?double? which animates and infuses them with life (Taylor Camay, camay y 
camasca 3-9, Harrison Signs, Songs and Memories 76-79). In some instances these 
?primordial? doubles are visually apparent, as in case of the llama constellation in the 
sky which serves as the cosmic double and animator of all earthly llamas (Taylor ibid. 
7-8). Examples of semantic and syntactic balance in both Incaic and contemporary 
Quechua texts suggests the importance of this cultural concept and poetic device in 
Quechua aesthetics. The manner in which different genres of Quechua expression use 
syntactical and/or semantic symmetry in the construction of a text will be considered in 
the following chapters. 
Everyday Tactics and the Act of Cooking
 Runa is the Quechua word for ?human? or ?people?, so that the word used by 
Quechua speakers to designate their language?runasimi-- literally means ?the people?s 
tongue?. In a generic sense, runa often exclusively refers to Quechua-speaking 
indigenous people of peasant origin.13 The following chapters explore the ways in 
which runa have manipulated their food-universes in pre-conquest, colonial and 
contemporary times as an adaptational tactic for both evading and manipulating the 
repressive strength and discipline of powerful political, economic and social 
discourses.14 Certeau?s notion of the ?tactic? will be central to this project. Unlike the 
?strategy? of a proprietor, city, enterprise, or institution, the ?tactic? does not benefit 
from any spatial or institutional location and functions without a base of operations 
from which it can set out on campaigns or hoard its winnings:  ?[the tactic] must play 
16
 on and with a terrain imposed on it and organized by the law of a foreign power . . . 
The space of a tactic is the space of the other? (36-37).15 The tactic is a flexible, mobile 
and an opportunistic tool:  
because it does not have a place, a tactic depends on time?it is always on the 
watch for opportunities that must be seized ?on the wing?. Whatever it wins, it 
does not keep. It must constantly manipulate events in order to turn them into 
?opportunities?. (ibid.) 
Whereas open insurrection is clearly an extremely risky undertaking for an oppressed 
and disenfranchised population, the relatively low-risk venture of ?tactics? carried out 
through one?s manipulation of a food-universe offers an intriguing and tempting 
alternative. 
The ?outside? cooks discussed below utilize the everyday practice of cooking as 
a tactic which helps them to alleviate the effects of racism, sexism and poverty. 
Chapters one and three explore the ways in which ?outside? cooks working in the 
Andes use a variety of tactics in order to increase their socioeconomic independence. 
These analyses reveal the ways in which the creative, everyday practice of cooking 
often allows Quechua women to take an active role in shaping their society and in 
limiting the control of external, hegemonic powers on the lives of their families and 
community. 
Food and Language:
 In each of the Quechua texts selected for analysis food serves a communicatory 
function, expressing a determined message in a highly complex and detailed set of 
culturally encrypted codes. In his extremely influential trilogy Mythologies (consisting 
17
 of the translated titles The Raw and the Cooked, A History of Table Manners and From 
Honey to Ashes), L?vi-Strauss conceives of a society?s cooking rituals as ?a language 
through which it unconsciously translates its structure?or else resigns itself, still 
unconsciously, to revealing its contradictions? (The Culinary Triangle 35). In this way, 
when we conceive of cooking as a kind of language, we realize that it is actually ?a set 
of processes permitting the establishment, between individuals and groups, of a certain 
type of communication? (L?vi-Strauss Structural Anthropology 61). 
Roland Barthes has come to term the particular ways in which we choose to 
serve and prepare foods, as well as the nuances inflected by certain dishes as a 
?veritable grammar of foods? (?Toward a Psychosociology? 22). He equates food with 
language in an effort to express the ordered manner in which certain foods appear in 
certain situations, carrying certain nuances. This apparent order inspires him to pose the 
question --and then to provide his own answer--    ?For what is food? . . . a system of 
communication, a body of images, a protocol of usages, situations, and behavior? (ibid. 
21-22). This notion of food as a ?system of communication? informs the analyses of the 
Incaic verses in chapter two, the paintings and photographs in chapter three and the 
contemporary oral narratives in chapter four. 
A common aphorism states that ?animals feed, humans eat?, thus suggesting the 
involvement of some element of choice (and therefore deeper signification) in the act 
of human food consumption. Barthes summarizes the implications of this choice in the 
following paragraph: 
When he buys an item of food, consumes it, or serves it, modern man does not 
manipulate a simple object in a purely transitive fashion; this item of food sums
 up and transmits a situation; it constitutes an information; it signifies. That is to 
say that it is not just an indicator of a set of more or less conscious motivations, 
18
 but that it is a real sign, perhaps the functional unit of a system of 
communication . . . Substances, techniques of preparation, habits, all become 
part of a system of differences in signification; and as soon as this happens, we 
have communication by way of food. (ibid.)
 He concludes that beyond providing physical nourishment, food is capable of 
transforming itself into situation, thus performing a social function (ibid. 26). This 
realization leads Barthes to declare:  ?Like sex, the taking of food has a social 
component, as well as a biological one. Food categories therefore encode social events? 
(ibid). He then proceeds to reconstruct a system of syntaxes and styles of food in order 
to uncover their significations in particular situations, or ?food-instances?. Barthes? 
notion of food as a vehicle for communication and a transmitter of situation are integral 
concepts for understanding arguments presented in this dissertation. Indeed, this 
concept will be invoked in several analyses including:  the hierarchy of power among 
Quechua market cooks and vendors in chapter one, the subtle messages encoded in 
Incaic verse, Inca Garcilaso?s Comentarios and the ?Last Supper? paintings of Quispe 
Titu and Zapata in chapter two and the foreshadowing of impending doom in the oral 
narratives presented in chapter four. 
Perhaps the link between language and cooking is most obviously located ?at 
table?. As the well-known gastronomical philosopher Brillat-Savarin muses with 
regards to the collective meal: 
ces reunions, born?es d?abord aux relations les plus proches, se sont ?tendues 
peu ? peu ? celles de voisinage et d?amiti? . . . c?est pendant le repas que durent 
na?tre ou se perfectionner les langues, soit parce que c??tait une occasion de 
rassemblement toujous renaissante, soit parce que le loisir qui accompagne et 
sui apr?s le repas dispose naturellement ? la confiance et ? la loquacit?. 
(Physiologie du go?t 201)16
19
 Conversations with Quechua cooks and market vendors as well as close-readings of 
oral narratives reveal the ways in which Brillat-Savarin?s nineteenth century 
observation of French diners also holds true in the Andes. This idea that language 
(communication) is somehow encouraged or even perfected during repast and that 
sharing food encourages both conversation and confidence will become an important 
concept for understanding a number of situations and scenes described in chapters one 
and four below. In the close-readings of the various Quechua texts that follows, this 
concept of cooking as a form of communication will be continuously invoked in order 
to more fully understand the implications of the relationships and interchanges between 
the cook, the meal she prepares and her customer, family, or community. Language 
often serves as a pragmatic tool:  a way of expressing opinions and questions, uttering 
complaints and asking for assistance. It can also, however, become the symbolic 
representation of an emotion, sentiment, or a passion. Similarly, food can serve a 
straightforward purpose as a ?pragmatic tool? for physical satiation; after all, it does 
provide us with the caloric energy needed to grow, think and work. Yet like language, 
food can also serve as a symbolic expression of, or an allusion to class, gender, regional 
origin, latent desire, longings, or even antagonistic resentment. 
Jorge Luis Borges insists on the superior power of allusion as opposed to overt 
expression when using words to craft poetry. He declares:
  I believe only in allusion. After all, what are words? Words are symbols for 
shared memories.  If I use a word, then you should have some experience of 
what the word stands for. If not, the word means nothing to you. I think we can 
only allude, we can only try to make the reader imagine. The reader, if he is 
quick enough, can be satisfied with our merely hinting at something. (117) 
20
 Food is not so different from Borges? characterization of words in the above statement. 
Like words, food also serves as a symbol for shared memories or experiences. Like the 
reader who encounters a never-before-experienced-word that remains meaningless, so 
too does food lose its meaning when consumed without any notion of the 
accompanying nuances, connotations and cultural significance(s). We can understand 
and interpret the world around us precisely because the majority of the words, signs 
and food we encounter appear familiar to us; they are already loaded with so many 
levels of implied meaning that they can be used to allude to something more distant, 
less tangible. 
As Mintz notes, ?food and eating afford us a remarkable arena in which to 
watch how the human species invests a basic activity with social meaning?indeed, 
with so much meaning that the activity itself can almost be lost sight of? (Tasting Food
 7). It is important to realize, however, that it is the particular cultural context that 
infuses food ?its selection, preparation, presentation and consumption- with this sort of 
?social meaning?. Thus, ?meanings ascribed to foods are, like all meanings, agreed 
conventions about usage:  ultimately they are arbitrary? (Fern?ndez-Armesto 32). In 
order to understand the ritual and symbolic meanings of the various foods that make up 
a meal, one must already understand the predetermined code of the host culture?s food-
 universe. For instance, any Incan child would know that when her mother brings home 
the family?s allotted portion of the blood bread yahuar?anco, this means that it is 
August and time to carry out the rites of the ?itua festival. As in Borges? example 
above, the appearance of yahuar?anco in an Incan household alludes to the imminent 
celebration of the yearly, ritual feast.  
21
 In many key instances in the texts considered below, food replaces spoken or 
written language in communicating religious, confrontational, erotic, or nostalgic 
sentiment?at times by choice and at times because all other expressive avenues have 
been blocked. A great admirer of G.K. Chesterton, Borges quotes the famous English 
story spinner and essayist as having once said,  ?I suppose a nation evolves the words it 
needs? (81). Borges then goes on to note:
 This observation amounts to saying that language is not, as we are led to 
suppose by the dictionary, the invention of academicians or philologists. Rather, 
it has evolved through time, by peasants, by fisherman, by hunters, by riders. It 
did not come from libraries; it came from the fields, from the sea, from rivers, 
from night, from the dawn. (ibid.) 
Of course this Borgesian observation can also be extended to the realm of food. In 
order to grasp the important communicatory function played by food in many Quechua 
texts, one must note that like the written and spoken word, the complex meanings 
associated with the food-universe remain in constant flux, capable of withstanding 
manipulation in order to deliver the necessary message of the moment. 
Just as the language of the dictionary does not perfectly reflect the living words 
of markets, school yards and nightclubs, carefully calibrated, standardized recipes in 
mass produced cookbooks generally do not reflect the ?living language? of the world?s 
many different food-universes. Recipes evolve and change as the need for alterations 
arise, while ?food choices and eating habits reveal distinctions of age, sex, status, 
culture, and even occupation. These distinctions are immensely important adornments 
of an inescapable necessity? (Mintz Sweetness and Power 3). Yet even within any 
particular age, sexual, or cultural group, food choices and eating habits may change, 
depending on the sort of communicatory or tactical function required at any given 
22
 meal; these food-related distinctions often become an important locus of meaning in the 
texts discussed below. The present project looks at the ways in which the creators of 
written, oral and visual texts utilize the language of the Quechua food-universe as a 
vehicle for the communication of desire, protest, sorrow and gratitude, while also 
considering the effectiveness and possible reasons behind the implementation of such 
strategies.
 A Taste of the Chapters that Follow:
 For us humans, then, eating is never a ?purely biological? activity. The foods eaten have histories 
associated with the pasts of those who eat them; the techniques employed to find, process, prepare, 
serve, and consume the foods are all culturally variable, with histories of their own. Nor is the food ever 
simply eaten; its consumption is always conditioned by meaning. These meanings are symbolic, and 
communicated symbolically; they also have histories.
 Sidney Mintz Tasting Food, Tasting Freedom
 Chapter one of this dissertation begins with a presentation and brief cultural 
history of the Quechua food-universe. In this context, ?Quechua food-universe? will 
refer to those foodstuffs cultivated, prepared and consumed by runa families both 
before the arrival of the European invaders. Today many of these foods continue to be 
enjoyed today by non-runas living both in the Andes and abroad.17 In addition to 
discussing the unique qualities of Quechua agricultural methods and philosophies, this 
first chapter will also discuss some of the nutritional, symbolic and ritual values of 
Quechua foods and cooking methods, as well as the intricacies of the power hierarchy 
among female vendors and cooks within the Cuzco central market.
 When Spanish ships landed on what is now Per??s northern shore in 1532, their 
hulls contained cannons, swords, stale bread, salted fish and scores of sea weary 
23
 sailors. While the firepower and disease of Spanish soldiers may have managed to 
overwhelm the sophisticated citizens of the Inca Empire, without the food cultivated, 
store housed and prepared by indigenous Peruvians, the newly arrived Europeans 
would not have survived for long in such unfamiliar surroundings. Thus, the second 
chapter of this dissertation discusses the roles and representations of the Quechua food-
 universe soon after the conquest. Chapter two begins by exploring the ritual role played
 by women in the preparation of sacrificial meals in the Andes prior to the arrival of the 
Europeans. As we lack any written record of Incan society, or the everyday practices of 
Andeans in Tahuantinsuyu before the arrival of the European invaders, our knowledge 
of the food-universes and gender roles of pre-conquest Per? is obviously extremely 
limited. One must keep in mind that the written accounts of political, economic and 
cultural life in the Andes both prior to and following the arrival of the Spaniards has 
been filtered through the particular ideological and personal projects of each Quechua 
or Spanish chronicler.
 Nevertheless, the descriptions of Incaic verse and rituals transcribed by 
Crist?bal de Molina in his Relaci?n de las f?bulas y mitos de los Incas provides 
important insight for understanding the roles and representations of the Quechua food-
 universe in pre-conquest Per?. Father Molina?s descriptive narration and the verses he 
transcribes are analyzed by highlighting the manner in which the food-universe 
becomes an indispensable medium for the realization of religious communication and 
expression in pre-colonial Per?. The discussion of Father Molina?s manuscript is 
followed by a brief consideration of the ways in which the exceptional narrator and 
chronicler ?el Inca Garcilaso?, juxtaposes the meanings, values and descriptions of 
24
 Andean and European foods in his Comentarios Reales. Garcilaso?s commentary on 
these two very different food-universes serves as a tool for critiquing the arrogance of 
Iberian discourses of superiority?an arrogance which did not fail to extend into the 
realm of food. In addition to discussing Garcilaso?s clever presentation of pre-colonial 
and colonial food-universes, chapter two also briefly considers the representation of 
Andean foods in several paintings produced by indigenous artists during the 16th- 18th 
century artistic movement known as the ?Escuela Cuzque?a?. 
The decision to explore colonial cultural texts stems from my commitment to 
the importance of framing studies of both social phenomena and literary texts within a 
historically informed context. Analyses that incorporate ?multiple time scales? into the 
?vision? of the project will likely produce a more sophisticated, comprehensive and 
compelling study of the subject matter (Stern 12).18 In the literary analyses presented in 
the following chapters, it has been my intention to utilize historical contexts as more 
than a ?background? orientation for the reader, but as a ?source of explanatory tools 
explicitly incorporated into the analysis? (ibid). If, as Mintz argues, ?social phenomena 
are by their nature historical, which is to say that the relationships among events in one 
?moment? can never be abstracted from their past and future setting?, then the literary 
scholar should take historical contexts into careful consideration when interpreting 
literary texts which focus on social events and struggles (Mintz xxx). Following this 
logic, it becomes clear that in order to understand contemporary acts of resistive 
adaptation occurring within the realm of the Quechua food-universe, one must also 
consider pre-colonial and colonial experiences, so as not to violate ?the historical 
memory and consciousness of the rebels themselves? (ibid.).
25
 A study of the manuscripts written by colonial chroniclers in the Andes 
supports Barthes? assertion about the social function of food cited in the opening of this 
introduction. Food as an abstraction-- as an object-- cannot transform itself into 
situation, but instead must be actively transformed by someone within a particular 
context. Likewise, a piece of vegetable, fruit, grain, tuber, or meat must be acquired, 
prepared and served for its nourishing quality to be appreciated by a hungry body. It is 
the particular context in which food is acquired, prepared and served which allows for 
it to perform not only a physical, but also a social function. Throughout history, in both 
the Andes and around the world, women have overwhelmingly taken center stage in 
this transformative performance. In addition to presenting close-readings of the 
symbolic role of food in colonial texts produced and transcribed by Crist?bal de 
Molina, the Inca Garcilaso and the Escuela Cuzque?a, chapter two also briefly explores 
the economic role played by food during the colonial period, as well as women?s roles 
in carrying out the transformation of food into a social function laden with meaning.   
The third and fourth chapters of this dissertation explore textual representations 
of food and cooks in post-conquest Per?. Just as a few Incan women enjoyed a degree 
of influence in their roles as preparers of the sacred feast, the third chapter of this 
dissertation analyzes a novel, testimonio and photographs which represent Quechua 
women from seemingly ?oppressed? social classes who utilize the everyday practice of 
cooking as a ?tactic? for achieving a degree of socioeconomic independence. This 
chapter discusses depictions of Quechua chicheras and cooks as they appear in Jos? 
Mar?a Arguedas? novel Los r?os profundos, in the images of the Peruvian photographer 
Martin Chambi and in the Quechua language testimonio Autobiograf?a by Asunta 
26
 Quispe Huam?n and Gregorio Condori Mamani. In the following pages, the 
complexities of the Quechua culinary tradition will be considered as everyday practices 
that serve both pragmatic and symbolic purposes and which may alternately or
 simultaneously restrain (physically, intellectually, socially, economically, emotionally) 
and liberate a cook.
 Ironically, while all of the professional cooks and chicheras explored in these 
narratives are women, their authors are predominantly men. As Sara Mills points out, 
?[the] paucity of material produced by colonized subjects, itself symptomatic of 
colonial relations, forces us to examine a range of other textual and theoretical options? 
(695). In the centuries following European conquest, in the Andes and throughout the 
Americas, indigenous women?s artistic assemblages have only infrequently been 
published, viewed, experienced and supported by the members of the largely white, 
male, urban power elite. In the interest of seeking ?a range of other textual options?, this 
dissertation concludes with examples of Quechua language oral narratives produced by 
indigenous women.  
Chapter four focuses on the depiction of cooks in the Quechua oral tradition. 
The analyses of these narratives unpacks ?double?, ?ambiguous? and ?coded? meanings 
while also asking questions such as:  ?What symbolic function does food serve in each 
text??, ?Where and by whom is this meal served and what sorts of meanings does this 
contextual information reveal??, or ?How, why and to what extent is food preparation 
and consumption linked to the constructions of a particular character, or instrumental in 
foreshadowing future events??. In addition to discussing some of the unique aesthetic 
categories and techniques of Quechua oral narrative, this chapter also considers various 
27
 textual representations of the longstanding fear that a female cook may actually be a 
witch, capable of adulterating the meal of those she serves in order to achieve her own 
malevolent ends. 
The cultural texts studied in the following four chapters have been chosen from 
the genres of the historical chronicle, the contemporary novel, as well as the testimonio, 
Incaic hymn, song, poetry, oral narrative performance, photography and painting. 
While the conventions and aesthetic effects of each genre are both unique and varied, 
in all of these texts the role of the Quechua food-universe serves as an important locus 
for meaning, identity construction, or the communication of culturally important 
messages. In several of these texts, Quechua cooks utilize their access to food 
preparation and distribution as a tactic for evading the attempts of the patriarchal 
hegemony to silence their voices, desires, values and traditions.19
28
 1
  For the purposes of this study, the ?symbolic? will be understood following Jack Goody?s definition:  
?two languages, objects, words (or concepts) that are logically and perceptually separate are brought 
together and interpreted in relation to one another by operations of a graphic, ritual or linguistic kind? 
(30).
 2
  Mintz (Sweetness and Power, Tasting Food), Coe, Tannahill, Fern?ndez-Armesto, Symons, Super, 
Ritchie and Schenone have also written about food?s role in history.
 3
  Early anthropological studies which focus on the intersections of food and culture include:  L?vi-
 Strauss, Maus, Mead, Richards and Douglas. For more recent studies, consult:  Goody, Armelagos and 
Farb, Weismantel, Seligmann and Babb. See also L?pez, Garc?a and Pr? for a detailed review and 
bibliography of anthropological studies of food (primarily in Latin American societies) from 1932-1988.
 4
  For important philosophical studies of food, taste and cooking consult Jean Fran?ois Revel and 
Anthelme Brillat-Savarin?s well-known treatises on cuisine and taste. Roland Barthes, Michel de Certeau 
and Louis Marin have also published important meditations on the linguistic, ideological and 
sociological roles played by food and cooking. Interesting studies concentrating on the intersections 
between food, culture and society have also been written by Luce Girard, Claude Fischler, Roy Wood, 
Edmundo Morales, Steven Mennell, Anne Murcott and Anneke van Otterloo.
 5
  Umami is described as:  ?the proteiny, full-bodied taste of chicken soup, or cured meat, or fish stock, or 
aged cheese, or mother?s milk, or soy sauce, or mushrooms, or seaweed, or cooked tomato? (Rozin 132).
 6 This notion of the food-universe is similar to what Ellen Messer refers to as the ?food code?:  ?Elements 
of diet have been analyzed alternatively as aspects of a ?food code? in which foods or components of 
foods-especially their manners of preparation or transformation or serving- express other aspects of 
social relations, cultural identity, and the sexual division of labor? (223). 
7
  Goody is a strong supporter of interdisciplinary research and he insists,  ?. . . the attempt to incorporate 
the most insightful elements should not be limited to the prepositional frames current in one?s own field 
alone. Those findings should relate to the broader context of the study of human society by historians, 
economists, political scientists and others . . .? (39). Comparative Literature is an inherently 
interdisciplinary field of study which has always encouraged this sort of scholarship.
 8
  While it is of course important to situate an academic study within the work of one?s scholarly 
predecessors, it should also be pointed out that throughout most of history the secrets of cooking have 
been elaborated and disseminated by word of mouth, thus remaining outside the formal scholarly 
accounts of history, culture and society. Many of the texts considered in this study pertain to the 
Quechua oral tradition; a rich collection of creative assemblages which has long existed on the periphery 
of scholarly studies.
 9
  See Geertz?s essay ?Thick Description:  Towards and Interpretive Theory of Culture? for an extended 
description of this ethnographic technique. Michel de Certeau?s collection of essays exploring the 
?Practice of Everyday Life? (Arts de faire) also supports the method of close-reading as a tool for 
providing meaningful analysis of key textual moments since ?the characteristically subtle logic of these 
?ordinary? activities comes to light only in the details? (ix).
 10
  It should be noted, however, that in the visual arts the term ?genre? generally refers to a specific type of 
painting which depicts scenes from everyday life (Steiner 147).
 11
  Although they are almost always paid for their labors, domestic servants who cook in private homes do 
not enjoy the same degree of independence and social interaction as ?outside? cooks, a point confirmed 
by Quechua women themselves and that will be discussed below.
 12
  Paul Gilroy?s ?There Ain?t No Black in the Union Jack?. and Dick Hebdige?s Subculture:  The 
Meaning of Style provided me with useful models for how this sort of inside/outside analysis might be 
convincingly constructed.
 13
  For more on the semantic reaches of this word see Gelles? introduction to Andean Lives (6-9).
 14
  References to discourse in this dissertation follow Michel Foucault?s notion of the term as a societal 
process of understanding and self-definition that is discontinuous, risky and often used as a form of 
violence (Foucault 55). Like Foucault, this study pays attention to the manner in which discourses are 
organized and constructed and who is included or excluded in their production. Of course power is 
29
 always a central component of any discourse and a key contributor in the definition and dissemination of 
knowledge (ibid. 32).
 15
  James Scott?s description of the ?weapons? of the relatively powerless such as:  ?foot dragging, 
dissimulation, desertion, false compliance, pilfering, feigned ignorance, slander, arson, sabotage . . .? are 
an unattributed version of Certeau?s ?tactic?. Like Certeau, Scott notes that due to the institutional 
invisibility of such activities, most are accorded little ?social significance? and since there is ?no center, 
no leadership, no identifiable structure that can be co-opted or neutralized? such forms of resistance 
enjoy certain advantages (Weapons of the Weak xvi, 35). 
16
  See also Georg Simmel?s essay ?The Sociology of the Meal? for a discussion of the meal?s importance 
of ordering human socialization. 
17
  A discussion of the new flavors and reaches of the Quechua food-universe in the new millennium will 
be discussed in the concluding pages of this study.
 18
  Goody also laments the lack of consideration of historical contexts or data in most anthropological 
studies of food. He blames this oversight on Bronislaw Malinowski and Alfred Reginald Radcliffe-
 Brown?s objection to ?any confusion between history and anthropology, between diachrony and 
synchrony? (33). He argues convincingly:  ?Even if one is trying to analyse meaning, symbolic structures 
cannot be treated as timeless . . .? (37). 
19
  In the following pages, the term patriarchy refers to ?control over productive resources, labor force, 
and reproductive capacities, based on notions of superiority and inferiority legitimated by differences of 
gender and generation? (Cadena ?Women are More Indian? 345). Hegemony is understood following 
Antonio Gramsci?s notion of the process of ideological domination whereby the ruling class controls 
both physical and symbolic production in a given society. The control of the ruling class over ideological 
institutions of society such as:  culture, religion, education and the media, allows for this class to 
disseminate its own values in an effort to reinforce its ruling position (Gramsci qtd. in Forgacs 76; 
Hebdige 16-18). This ideological hegemony often leads to the subordinate classes? consent or passive 
compliance to the values and will of the ruling class (ibid.). It is this kind of ideological hegemony that 
remains most prevalent in the Peruvian Andes, with white, male, urban, coastal dwellers occupying the 
most dominant position in the power hierarchy, while rural, indigenous subsistence farmers (particularly 
women) are most vulnerable to their political, economic and cultural aggressors. Urban and rural 
mestizos and mestizas occupy varying positions of domination and subjugation in this ?power pyramid?. 
As Martin Lienhard notes, ?En Am?rica Latina, el marco socio-pol?tico de los procesos de interacci?n 
entre la cultura de los sectores hegem?nicos y la de las subsociedades ind?genas, mestizas o populares, se 
caracteriza en mayor o menor grado por una evidente asimetr?a:  los due?os de la primera, due?os 
tambi?n del poder global, fijan las reglas del juego, mientras que los sectores marginados, salvo en 
momentos de contraofensiva general, no tienen otro recurso sino el de reaccionar m?s o menos 
creativamente a la imposici?n de los valores o anti-valores hegem?nicos? (98). 
30
 Chapter I:  A Cultural History of the Quechua Food-universe
 Sinchi wiksayoq, kusi sonqoyoq (Full stomach, happy heart) 
                                                                                      Quechua proverb
 The Universe is nothing without the things that live in it, and everything that lives, eats. 
                                                                                      Anselme Brillat-Savarin   The Physiology of Taste
 Hierarchies of Prestige and Profits in Cuzco?s Culinary Marketplace: 
By now it is nearly noon on a mid-August Saturday and inside Cuzco?s 
Mercado Central, shoppers busily stride up and down the aisles that separate various 
food and beverage vendors. Entering off Calle Santa Clara, market goers pass the 
dozens of fruit juice vendors perched upon stools and presiding over their Oster
 blenders and enormous multi-colored pyramids of fruit. Waving daily tabloids in front 
of the noses of those passing by, the women call out a few of their endless, fruity 
combinations in hopes of tempting at least a few thirsty shoppers ? ?zanahoria con 
naranja!, ?papaya con pl?tano!, ?mixto, mixto!, ?fresa con leche!, ?el especial! 
On weekends, adolescent girls and elderly women spread out their blankets in 
the hallway near the boisterous juice vendors and set to work preparing colorful 
bouquets of red and yellow carnations, delicate, white ilusiones and various other 
fragrant herbs and blossoms. Continuing down the hallway, one encounters the aisles of 
fruit vendors who sit in front of stalls stacked high with papayas, at least three types of 
bananas-- seda, isla, para sancochar-- along with apples, mandarins, grandadillas, 
chirimoyas. It is as if the flower, fruit and juice vendors had conspired to join together 
in hopes of creating the most multi-colored, aromatic section of the market. In the 
central aisle of the market blankets are laid out by mostly older women who cannot 
31
 afford to rent or buy a permanent stall and instead arrange their wares on the ground in 
small one sol or fifty centavo piles.1 These women sell mostly carrots, lima beans, 
ch?u?o?dehydrated potatoes2, cilantro, mint, oregano, or small plastic bags of recado-
 -shelled green peas, sliced squash and chopped carrots, prepared and ready to add to the 
afternoon soup. Such products usually come from their own gardens and can be sold 
for a bit of extra cash whenever a surplus is harvested. While food choices and eating 
habits in Cuzco certainly reveal ?distinctions of age, sex, status, culture, and even 
occupation? (Mintz Sweetness and Power 3), it is also clear that the types and 
quantities of food, as well as the locations in which they are sold announce many of 
these distinctions between market women.  
In the aisles radiating out from the central hallway, one encounters the row of 
astute businesswomen selling coffee, tea, cacao and maca-- a commercial enterprise 
that requires considerable capital in addition to well-cultivated business relationships 
with various producers, truckers and wholesalers. Many of these luxury beverage 
vendors inherited their business from mothers, aunts, or grandmothers who have 
carefully constructed a chain of suppliers near the warm, humid climes of Quillabamba 
where rich coffees and cacao are nurtured to a pleasant perfection (Sonia Quispe, 
personal communication). 
In the aisle adjacent to the beverage vendors, shoppers encounter tables 
arranged with piles of pale, cream-colored disks called tarwi (or chocho) throughout 
the Cuzco region. While tarwi vendors clearly possess more capital than the informal 
vegetable and herb vendors, their product is also grown locally and processed in their 
own homes, thus acquiring and processing it does not require the extensive business 
32
 relationships and cash outlays administered by the luxury beverage vendors. Although 
tarwi venders offer a pre-prepared version of their product that has already undergone a 
lengthy cooking and ?debittering? process3, they begrudgingly admit that each year 
fewer customers regularly purchase this Andean legume. Younger generations tend to 
prefer the comparably priced (though most all market goers and vendors agree, 
nutritionally inferior) white rice, while many older clients must choose to spend their 
very limited soles on potatoes and tubers that cost up to four times less than tarwi per 
kilo. 
Even a brief stroll through the upper level of the Cuzco market confirms the 
observation made by scholars such as Mary Weismantel and Florence Babb?that 
Andean markets are more than just a non-productive space for exchange. Many of the 
tasks carried out by market women involve processing and preparing vegetables and 
fruits for more rapid cooking and consumption within the home or commercial kitchen 
(Babb 119-30; Weismantel Cholas and Pishtacos 70-71). Thus these resourceful 
women-- with their ?ukhu mankakuna? always at hand-- should also be acknowledged 
as playing an important, productive role in the Quechua food-universe. In addition to 
prepping and preparing ingredients and meals and offering culinary advice and recipes 
to customers, these women organize, regulate and secure the stable supply of food for 
large percentage of the city?s population. 
Three steps down from the ?juice, flower, fruit, coffee/cacao/maca, tarwi, 
cheese and chicken? level, the Saturday marketgoer enters the central aisle of some of 
the most established vendors (many have personally sold for twenty-five years or more 
and may occupy the space previously held by their mothers, aunts, or grandmothers) 
33
 who don starched white aprons and sell wheat, quinua and corn flour; various types of 
trigo machucado (the unlikely moniker for whole or rolled oats, while all processed 
oats are called ?kwa-cker? in honor of the famous brand up North); raisins, figs, 
shredded coconut and dried plums; lentils, pinto beans, white beans and navy beans; 
and the Andean grains quinua and kiwicha. The twelve dry goods stalls are arranged in 
a similar fashion: beans bagged by the kilo fill the upper wooden shelves, grain 
products stored inside forty-five kilo sacks line the floor and terraced platforms (their 
tops folded down to reveal the quality of the product within), while costly dried fruits 
rest securely behind clear glass or plastic cases, safely removed from stray fingers 
eager to sample, but not to purchase. 
Interspersed with the saleswomen dedicated exclusively to dry goods sales are 
the ?nearly-one-stop-shopping? vendors. Like the luxury beverage and dry goods 
vendors, most of these women (there are only twelve of them) have also been selling in 
the market for twenty years or more; by now they have established business 
relationships with numerous wholesale suppliers and can offer their clients a wide 
variety of products:  whole grains (quinua, kiwicha, oats, rices), flours (wheat, quinua, 
corn), vegetables and fruits (spinach, carrots, onions, eggplant, tomatoes and 
cucumbers), squash (zapallo ruru, achoqcha, lakawiti and ancara), legumes (lentils, 
pinto, brown and white beans), red and green bell peppers, assorted hot peppers (uchu, 
chinchi-uchu, roccoto-uchu, asnacc-uchu, mucuru-uchu, or q?ello-uchu) salt, herbs and 
spices (cinnamon sticks, whole cloves, ground and whole black pepper, dried oregano, 
cumin seeds, fresh mint, camomile, huacatay, mu?a and peeled or whole garlic), as 
34
 well as miscellaneous remedies and mix-ins (baking powder, arrampo, prepared 
baggies of sauces and condiments). 
One such vendor is Elisa, a sixty-year-old woman who has worked in the 
market for the past twenty-six years. Like other vendors in her section of the market, in 
addition to dispensing an impressive variety of products, Elisa also offers helpful 
(although sometimes unsolicited) culinary advice (in either Spanish or Quechua, 
depending upon the preference of the client). Elisa?s transmission of culinary 
knowledge in the Mercado Central is an example of how the richness of the Quechua 
language and oral tradition is communicated daily in Cuzco?s public spaces. A 
customer requesting a kilo (2.2 lbs.) of brown beans is often asked whether she or one 
of her neighbors owns a pressure cooker, if the answer is negative, Elisa usually 
inquires, ??Quieres gastar dos semanas de gas en una sola olla de frijoles? No, no, 
ll?vate un kilito de lentejas que tambi?n son ricos y que cocinan en la mitad del 
tiempo? (?Do you want to use up two weeks? worth of gas in just one pot of beans? No, 
no instead, buy a kilo of lentil?they?re just as tasty and they cook in half the time?).  
New cooks and coastal transplants are often unaware of the fact that cooking beans 
without a pressure cooker at an altitude of over 11,000 feet requires a ridiculous 
amount of fuel. 
On another day at Elisa?s food stall a nervous young woman carrying an infant 
on her back is reminded to rinse her quinua grains thoroughly before cooking??. . . 
chaytaq yuraq phosoqo mana kaqtinchu, chhaynaqa wayk?uyta atinki? 4(?. . . now when 
there is no longer any white form, only then can you cook it?). Later in the week, a 
customer glancing at a stack of pale green achoqcha squash receives a recipe for 
35
 stuffing the vegetable:  ?Nishu sumaq chay achoqcha? questuta q?allanayki, suyt?u 
papatawan hik?inayki, q?omerkuna pikanayki, rocotota khallanayki, chaymanta 
anchaytawan achoqchata hunt?achinayki, ima theqtichinayki? (?Absolutely delicious 
that achoqcha squash . . . you have to cut cheese in chunky strips, chop some ?red? 
potatoes, vegetables and bell pepper, then you have to stuff the achoqcha squash with 
all of that and then fry it?). In just this one line of the recipe dictated by Elisa, the 
richness of the Quechua?s language becomes apparent. The language boasts a wealth of 
precise and evocative adjectives, verbs and interjections and in this case, while English 
uses the same verb ?to chop? as a signifier for the act of cutting cheese, potatoes, or 
vegetables into small pieces, the Quechua languages designates a different verb in 
order to express the act of chopping each of these ingredients. Thus, ?to chop? 
vegetables, squash, or olluco tubers is ?pikay? (likely from the Spanish, ?picar?), while 
?to chop? rocoto peppers, cheese, or fruits is ?khallay? and ?hik?iy? designates the 
chopping of a peeled potato. The verb q?allay on the other hand, signifies the cutting of 
cheese or potato into chunky strips. Food-related interjections also offer the Quechua 
speaker an array of specific expressive options including: ?Haw!? (?Too spicy!?), ?Hak! 
Ak!? (?So sour!?), ?A?akaw!? (How sweet!), ?Achak?w!? (?It?s too hot!?), ?A?a?aw! 
(?How delicious!?). 
Elisa does not, however, cook for herself at home: 
?Mana, wasiypi mana hayk?aq wayk?unipaschu. Uh?y! Uh! Imanaqtin? . . . No, 
?cocinar para m? no m?s? No, no tiene sentido y es m?s, hace da?o. . . ?Por qu? 
voy a preparar una olla entera de comida para m?? ?quedar?an sobras para toda 
la semana! Nah-- ?Qu? voy a andar preparando comida solita en casa si todos 
sabemos que no es igual el sabor cuando uno cocina solita?  . . . no te hace bien 
cocinar as?. . .? 
36
 ?No, in my house I never cook, what a hassle! And for what reason? . . . No, 
cook just for myself? No, it doesn?t make sense and what?s more it?s not good 
for you  . . . Why should I prepare an entire pot of food for myself? There 
would be leftovers for the entire week! Nah?Why should I go around 
preparing food all alone in my house if we all know that the flavor is never the 
same when one cooks all alone? . . . it?s not good for your to cook like that . . .?
 For more than ten years, Elisa explains, she has maintained an arrangement with one of 
the market cooks who brings her hot soup and a segundo-main dish every afternoon in 
exchange for a pan filled with chopped carrots, garlic and uchu-chile pepper that Elisa 
prepares for the cook each morning. Many vegetable vendors establish similar 
relationships with the market cooks; in these reciprocal agreements no money changes 
hands, yet both parties routinely receive a necessary service or product in exchange. 
Cargadores whose job requires them to haul large sacks of products into or out of the 
market often engage in similar long-term reciprocal arrangements, whereby they 
deliver necessary ingredients to the cooks? stalls free of charge in exchange for their 
daily afternoon meal.
 The far southeastern section of the market offers an assortment of hot meals 
prepared from many of the delicious ingredients sold within the market. In fact, 
prepared food stalls fill more than half of the market?s lower level and a few aisles in 
the upper half as well. These stalls are divided into the small, family-run counters in the 
central aisles and the larger operations occupying the outer walls, where three or four 
young women are typically employed as cooks. In the bigger market restaurants a male 
owner/boss typically receives customer orders, shouts them to the female cooks, passes 
out the meals and collects the payments. 
As Florence Babb points out in her discussion of runa  kitchen culture, although 
men are generally capable of preparing food for themselves if necessary, in most 
37
 circumstances women are solely responsible for cooking and serving a family?s daily 
meals (139; see also Symons 26). In Cuzco the kitchens in nearly all market 
restaurants, chicher?as (a small ?bar? or ?cantina? specializing in cornbeer) and small, 
family owned establishments are run by women, although the food preparation in 
larger, more profitable and prestigious tourist-oriented establishments is carried out by 
men. Representations of male cooks in Quechua texts are rare, however, and in the 
close-readings presented in the following chapters, analysis will strictly focus on the 
depiction of female cooks.
 Prices in market restaurants range from a bowl of caldo (either chicken or beef 
broth) for one and a half soles, a three sol caldo de pata, panza, ojo, cabeza, or lengua, 
to a five sol meal including of a small bowl of caldo and a segundo consisting of a 
serving of roasted or stir-fried chicken or beef, accompanied by two medium-sized 
boiled potatoes and a choice of either white rice or spaghetti. Market restaurants and 
chicher?as in Cuzco serve mainly ?low status? foods --organ meats and broths-- and the 
customers are almost exclusively runa or mestizos, with male clients outnumbering 
women, particularly in the chicher?as. Plastic tablecloths cover the long tables and 
diners sit next to each other on long, wooden benches. Small dishes of chopped uchu 
and rolls of toilet paper are interspersed along the length of the tables?the former can 
be added to spice up any dish, the latter serves as a practical substitute for individual 
napkins. The simplicity of these establishments? service, recipes and d?cor, along with 
the communal fashion in which meals are eaten make it unlikely that one will come 
across white Peruvians, middle class mestizos or tourists eating in such establishments.  
38
 The socio-economic roles of Quechua market vendors and cooks in Cuzco can 
are similar to those described by Silva Dias in her study of food businesses run by 
female slaves, ex-slaves and poor white women in colonial Brasil:  
By buying basic goods in bulk and reselling them, these women were 
guaranteed important social roles, and within this sphere of their own they 
acquired independence from men and, if not prestige, certainly the role of 
thrifty provider and of organizer of the circulation of foodstuffs. (99) 
Silva Dias argues that since Bantu and Yoruba women sold foodstuffs in the markets 
and streets in Africa, they were able to use these same skills and talents to improve 
their socio-economic position in the New World (98-99). Similarly, within the 
domestic sphere of runa families, women control the storage and processing of 
foodstuffs, the decision as to whether or not surplus foods can be sold and they also 
carry out the sale or exchange of these goods within the marketplace (Harrison Signs, 
Songs and Memories 119).
           Scholars such as Bunster and Chaney who describe market women?s work as 
simply an extension of their domestic duties present a picture which is both reductive 
and inaccurate (Bunster and Chaney 107). Weismantel?s characterization of cooking 
within the market as a sort of  ?housewifely work that market women do? is similarly 
problematic (Cholas and Pishtacos 70).  These scholars? insinuation that the market 
cook?s profession is synonymous with the housewife?s preparation of family meals 
fails to credit the professional cook with the independence and agency she has gained 
precisely through her decision to work outside (and/or in addition to) the domestic 
sphere. While the same woman may prepare meals both within her family home and in 
the market, these processes are decidedly not one in the same. 
39
           Although the market cook may know many of her clients? names, hometowns, 
occupations and personal struggles, it is unlikely that her service will be as easily taken 
for granted as it might be in her own house. In exchange for the meal that she serves 
her clients, the market cook expects to be remunerated with either service in kind or 
with a monetary payment. If her clients fail to provide her with a payment, she is under 
no obligation to continue serving them. Market cooks may appear to be ?blurring the 
line between business and friendship? (ibid. 72) in their relationships with clients, yet 
in the end, the meal is being served in a public space; a location that involves a series 
of codes and behaviors that certainly differ from those performed within the home. 
While it is true that the binary between the private/public sphere has often been 
artificially and uncritically constructed, it is also important to avoid conflating 
?housewifely work? with a woman?s profession. Unlike the ?inside cook?, the 
professional cook selling food outside the family home receives cash or service in kind 
in exchange for her efforts, thus providing her with an opportunity for improving or 
increasing her socioeconomic status and independence. 
In seemingly every corner of the market, vendors arrange their tables and 
shelves piled high with roots, grains, legumes, leafy vegetables, flowering herbs, 
ripened fruits, pungent spices and pockmarked tubers. Despite the chaotic sounds, 
smells and colors that permeate the atmosphere in and around the Mercado Central, 
each food is displayed and sold within its own designated area. The internal logic of the 
market forbids a potato vendor from swapping stalls with a fruit vendor, or for a 
woman selling chocolate and coffee to set up shop near the vegetable stalls. Market 
women (for there are only a handful of men who administrate the peripheral dry goods 
40
 shops and larger market restaurants) claim that no ?official? rule dictates which 
products may be sold where and assert that it is just ?costumbre? that dictates the 
specific section in which vendors may sell their particular products. Thus, the tin-
 roofed, cement-walled interior Cuzco?s Mercado Central is divided into regions divided 
by invisible boundaries. Each province is traversed by aisles of stacked up cheeses, 
mounded up potatoes and tubers, lined up chicken, hanging up beef, piled up 
vegetables and buckets of frogs, trays of fish, bunches of herbs and baggies of spices.
           According to more than twenty Cuzco market women interviewed between the 
months of July and November 2005, the female food vendors who manage the greatest 
amount of capital and number of business associates usually enjoy the most clout 
within the market hierarchy, control the best locations within the market (usually on a 
corner, or at the end of an aisle) and thus not surprisingly, take home the most net 
profits. In order to better understand this hierarchy, four different categories can be 
used to describe the vast majority of the women who sell and prepare food in and 
around Cuzco?s Mercado Central:  those who work in a chicher?a or small restaurant, 
those who cook or sell food in market stalls, those who cook and/or sell food from a 
street corner stall and those who sell food as ambulatory vendors on the city streets. 
          Clearly all of these women must be considered ?outside cooks? (as described in 
the introduction) since they sell their food outside the private home (although cooks 
who sell food from street corner stalls, as ambulatory vendors, or on the floor of the 
market almost always prepare their wares in their own home). The possibility of 
gaining social prestige and economic benefits from the occupation of cooking descends 
significantly from the first to the fourth category and even within each of these four 
41
 groups, smaller hierarchies-- each corresponding to different socioeconomic benefits?
 exist within each of the groups. For example, the owner of a chicher?a obviously earns 
more money and demands more respect than the woman in charge of preparing the 
spicy ?picante? snacks, who in turn earns more and has gained the right to give orders 
to her prep cook or any of the waitresses-- employees who rank just ahead of the 
dishwashers in terms of both status and salary. Such ?mini hierarchies? exist within the 
tiny market kitchens and amongst the market, street corner and ambulatory vendors 
whose relative rank is largely decided according to levels of seniority and reflected in 
terms of the control of coveted locations within a targeted vending zone. 
          Occupying a position of relative power within these hierarchies translates into 
increased economic benefits which in turn allow the cook or vendor to achieve an 
improved level of socioeconomic independence. Certeau?s concept of ?culture? is 
useful for understanding the purpose and effect of the unspoken rules, hierarchical 
(re)positionings and constant negotiations which characterize the ?culture? of the ?food 
business? in the Cuzco markets and streets. In this formulation, culture is conceived as 
an entity that develops in environments full of tension and which alternately 
legitimizes, displaces and ?provides symbolic balances, contracts of compatibility and 
compromises, all more or less temporary? (Certeau xvii).
 Women from rural villages who arrive in the city of Cuzco without a family 
network generally experience great difficulty when attempting to improve their position 
on the food-vending ladder. Recent arrivals and women without family contacts are 
usually forced to confront the multiple disadvantages associated with selling wares in 
an unstable location:  a constantly fluxuating customer base, vulnerability to police 
42
 harassment and fines, extreme weather, physical exhaustion, or thieves. On the other 
hand, women who own their own chicher?a or work as the head cook or vendor in a 
restaurant, market kitchen, or market stall benefit from the opportunity to network with 
other women entrepreneurs and to establish a stable group of ?regular? customers.   
          As mentioned in the introduction, Certeau?s concept of ?tactic? describes a tool 
deployed by ?the other? in order to seize advantageous opportunities, even without the 
benefit of any spatial or institutional stability. In Cuzco, cooks who sell their wares on 
the floor of the market or while walking around the city also lack spatial stability and 
thus, like the tactic, in order to survive they must increase their dependence on the 
resource of time. While market cooks and vendors with permanent stalls work days that 
are considered extremely long by North American and European standards (5am-8pm, 
six days per week), full-time ambulatory vendors must often work seven days per week 
to earn enough money to cover basic expenses and family financial obligations. The 
fifteen ambulatory food vendors that I interviewed in October, 2005, stated that their 
workdays began by at least 6 am and that they often continued to sell until 10pm or 
later-- when party-going Peruvians and tourists are often on the look-out for a cheap 
late night dinner. As exhausting as this occupation might sound, many ambulatory food 
vendors claim that they would prefer the uncertainties of selling food in the streets to 
the relative stability of working as a live-in cook or domestic servant. 
          Although women hired to work as cooks in restaurants or chicher?as do not have 
to endure most of the ambulatory vendor?s hardships, many women are hired to work 
in restaurants owned and managed by abusive overseers. As the colonial chronicler 
Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala reminds us, such situations can potentially lead to 
43
 violent abuse wherein Indian women employed as cooks or kitchen assistants soon 
discover that their job requires them not only to cook, but also to perform sexual favors 
for their bosses. Guaman Poma reports cases in which cooks working in mining camps 
suffered from rape at the hands of camp directors and their assistants and also accuses 
parish priests of harboring such intense greed for monetary gain that they force 
indigenous women to serve them as cooks and bakers without pay ?as if it were a 
punishment or penance? (Guaman Poma de Ayala 2: 489). Such potential dangers in a 
cook?s workplace are not unheard of in contemporary times and must also be 
considered.
 The notion of the ?food instance? (Barthes) presented in the introduction is also 
useful for understanding the productive function market cooks and vendors, since these 
professionals do indeed ?transform food into situation?. In the moment that they sell 
food to a client, these women carry out an economic exchange which in turn performs a 
?social function??supplying the city?s residents with food and also helping to increase 
their own financial stability. In the case of market cooks and vendors, the location of 
their stall, restaurant or vending zone, the position they occupy within the kitchen and 
the type of foods they sell can all be considered as examples of ?syntaxes and styles? 
within the Quechua food-universe. The syntax of a sentence creates order and meaning 
among its various grammatical components, while the style infuses the phrase with a 
particular personality or flavor. Likewise, then the system of hierarchies established by 
these culinary entrepreneurs creates a sense of order and meaning within Cuzco?s 
culinary marketplace, while still allowing each individual woman to impart her own
44
 unique style in the food she creates or the way in which she presents or sells it to her 
customer.  
A Brief Cultural History of the Quechua Food-universe:
 There is no history of cuisine that is not also a history of prevailing appetite, habits, and taste. 
                                                                                                      Jean Fran?ois Revel  Culture and Cuisine
 The intention of this verbal, ?virtual tour? through Cuzco?s Mercado Central is 
not to exoticize the products for sale or the persons who sell them in a ?far-away-land?. 
Indeed, for this reason an attempt was made to avoid overly sensual descriptions of the 
market. While the tastes, smells, sounds and textures of the this market are remarkably 
intense, the above narrative is generally limited to visual descriptions, in hopes of 
avoiding the creation of a circus-like picture of the Cuzco market-- an effect which all 
too frequently plagues anthropological studies of market women and marketplaces of 
the so-called ?developing world?. This brief description of the Cuzco market and the 
people who work within it is intended to serve as an introduction to some of the 
nuances, inflections and subtle meanings associated with the preparation and selling of 
an immense variety of Per??s fruits, vegetables, herbs, spices, legumes and grains.5
 Cuzco is Per??s largest highland city and the Mercado Central is the city?s 
biggest market, thus it arguably serves as a useful starting point for an exploration of 
the Quechua food-universe. In order to discuss the representations and roles of 
Quechua food and cooks, the reader must first be introduced to some of the ingredients 
that appear time and again on restaurant menus and in family cooking pots throughout 
the Andes. The following pages present some of the most important Andean food 
45
 products from various points of view including:  nutritional values, historical uses, 
prejudices and descriptions given by chroniclers, contemporary preparation and 
cultivation techniques, medicinal and ?supernatural? uses, as well as cultural, economic 
and historical nuances associated with various foods and beverages. As it was not 
possible to include a discussion of every important Andean food product in this 
chapter, I have focused on presenting those products which play an important role in 
the arguments and discussions presented in chapters two, three and four.
 Not all of the key ingredients of the contemporary Quechua food-universe are 
native to the Peruvian highlands. Few soups or segundos are prepared without onions 
for instance and many popular dishes include ingredients such as garlic, eggs, cheese, 
or asnapa-- a mixture of the aromatic herbs: parsley, oregano, peppermint, huacatay 
and?a uniquely Andean combination no doubt, but a blend which nonetheless includes 
various herbs of Old World origin. The following pages, however, will concentrate on 
introducing a number of food crops originally domesticated and cultivated by Quechua 
farmers, while also exploring their uses and meanings within Incan, colonial and 
contemporary kitchens throughout the Andes. 
As mentioned in the introduction, cultural historians are increasingly interested 
in how food relates to the creation of group and individual identities, the roles it has 
played in the rise and fall of civilizations throughout history, as well as its link to the 
successes and failures of a society?s intellectual, bellic and diplomatic practices. 
Histories written and/or edited by Redcliffe Salaman, Reay Tannahill, Carson Ritchie, 
Michael Symons, Felipe Fern?ndez-Armesto, George Armelagos and Peter Farb, 
Sophie Coe, Sidney Mintz, Jean Fran?ois Revel and Laura Schenone demonstrate the 
46
 importance of considering food and cooking as inseparable from all of the other 
historical, economic, political and cultural events and interactions involving human 
beings and the world that surrounds them. All of these authors emphasize aspects of the 
role of food in ritual (and/or magical) practices, as an indicator of social differentiation, 
as an encoder of meanings, or as a vehicle capable of achieving metaphysical, religious 
and moral transformations. 
As Fern?ndez-Armesto points out, ?there is now no society which merely eats 
to live . . . a change as revolutionary as any in the history of our species happened when 
eating stopped being merely practical and became ritual too? (29). Yet it is also 
important not to become so intent on discovering the symbolic loading associated with 
a particular food practice, ingredient, or consumption pattern that one neglects the 
nutritional and economic motivations that contribute to the selection or inclusion of 
certain foodstuffs in a meal (Beardsworth and Keil 149). The interrelationships 
between human biological needs and their cultural values must be understood if one 
seeks to learn how food-related habits emerge and are sustained (ibid.). By recognizing 
our biological imperatives ?in their culturally mediated manifestations?, we come to 
understand food systems as both dynamic and complex processes (ibid.). According to 
this point of view, the biological necessity of eating is not considered solely responsible 
for determining food preferences, nor is the symbolic quality of food understood as an 
arbitrary coincidence. In this way, the argument follows, the need to eat influences food 
symbolism that subsequently affects biological imperative. A frequently cited 
observation that would seem to support this argument is concept formulated by Levi-
 Strauss? (1970) and discussed above in the introduction; that most cultures? oral 
47
 traditions narrate the mythical discovery of their primary food staples which in turn, 
often play an important role in religious rituals. 
The discussion of Andean foodstuffs in the following pages seeks to strike a 
balance between the exploration of the uses and meanings of food in terms of their 
nutritional, economic and symbolic importance in Quechua culture. Achieving such an 
equilibrium is far from simple and previous studies of Andean foodways have tended to 
opt for an investigation of either nutritional and economic values, or strictly symbolic 
meanings, while only rarely considering both the economic and symbolic significance 
of a food product.6 In the following pages, sometimes these three perspectives are quite 
interrelated and a division between them would seem artificial, while in other instances 
a discussion of the economic implications associated with a particular foodstuff will be 
discussed independently of any symbolic or ritual values it might possess.
 Classical texts such as Xenophon?s Oikonomikos, reveal that the word 
?economy? originally referred to the management of the oikos (meaning ?house? in 
Greek). In late sixteenth century Europe, however, the phrase ?political economy? 
began to designate the management of public financial affairs and by the eighteenth 
century this expression had been shortened to ?economics? (Symons 194). The three 
basic historical modes of economic distribution can generally be described utilizing the 
following broad categories:  reciprocity (an exchange or ?gifting? wherein immediate 
repayment is not expected), redistribution (implying a central organization that collects 
and then redistributes goods, thus generating a greater division of labor and more 
complex social relationships) and market exchange (involving a marketplace and 
bargaining relationships that place a premium on price) (ibid. 252-253). Prior to the 
48
 arrival of the Spaniards in present-day Per?, the Andean economy involved a 
combination of reciprocity and redistribution, whereas market exchange was not 
practiced.7
 John Murra?s essay ?El control vertical de un m?ximo de pisos ecol?gicos en la 
econom?a de las sociedades andinas? [1955], explains a fundamental aspect of pre-
 Incan, Incan, colonial and contemporary Andean economies of reciprocity and 
redistribution. Murra?s original argument has remained essentially unaltered by 
subsequent scholars and ethnographers who have largely confirmed his thesis in their 
own research.8 His essential assertion claims that instead of maintaining a system of 
marketplaces similar to Old World or Mesoamerican models, in the Andes, ethnic 
groups gained access to the products of a variety of ecological niches by establishing 
members from their group in different microclimates (Murra 240).9 He refers to these 
ecological niches as part of a ?vertical archipelago?; in order to facilitate the 
exploitation of diverse resources, a community establishes a series of permanent 
colonies at a distance of one to several days journey from its primary population center. 
The islands of this ?vertical archipelago? remain functionally linked as part of 
an integrated system providing the more densely populated ?nucleus community? with a 
variety of foodstuffs, building materials, wool, guano, wooden dishware and a variety 
of other necessary products. Murra emphasizes the importance of understanding the 
permanence of these ?island? niches: 
. . . no se trata ni de migraciones estacionales, ni de comercio, ni de 
transhumancia. La poblaci?n hac?a un esfuerzo continuo para asegurarse el 
acceso a ?islas? de recursos, coloniz?ndolas con su propia gente, a pesar de las 
distancias que las separaban de sus n?cleos principales de asentamiento y poder. 
(ibid. 87)10
49
 Murra hypothesizes that the system of vertical archipelagos existed in the Andes long 
before the rise of the Incan Empire. He also asserts that once conquered by the Incas, 
subjugated ethnic groups largely retained their access pre-incaic ?ecological islands?, 
although he concedes that in some cases the Incas transported entire ethnic groups from 
one corner of the empire to another (ibid. 120).11 Other imperial strains that weakened 
this system included the Incas? obligation for workers to participate in far removed 
mitmaq12 state projects or agricultural fields.
 While not able to completely dismantle the Andean vertical archipelagos that 
fueled an economy of reciprocity and redistribution, the Spanish invasion delivered a 
severe blow to the integrity and efficiency of the centuries old system. The discovery of 
silver in Potos? in 1545 (and to a lesser extent the mercury deposits found in 
Huancavelica in 1560) rapidly transformed the Southern Andean highlands into an 
enormous international marketplace. By the late 1500s more than 100,000 people lived 
and worked in Potos?; this population?s demand for both imported and local goods and 
services consequently inserted the Southern Andes into the global political economy 
just a few decades after the arrival of the Spanish (Stern 73). The Spanish colonial 
chronicler, Pedro de Cieza de Le?n describes the Potos? market as ?el m?s rico 
mercado del mundo? and claims, ?se vend?a cada d?a en tiempo que las minas andauan 
pr?speras veynte y cinco y treynta mill pesos de oro . . . cosa estra?a, y creo que 
ninguna feria del mundo se ygulo al trato deste mercado? (1: ch. cx). He describes 
Potos??s central plaza as a marketplace divided into areas for selling coca (?la mayor 
riqueza de estas partes?), finely woven cloth, shirts and blankets and food (?montones 
de mayz y de papas secas y de las otras sus comidas?) (ibid.). As Stern points out, 
50
 ?Andean peoples intervened in the colonial market economy from its very beginnings?-
 - indeed, most of the food crops and textiles purchased in Potos? were produced and 
transported by Quechua farmers of the Cuzco region who quickly became adept 
participants in the inter-regional mercantile economy of the early colonial era 
(Ethnicity, Markets 76).13
 In order to avoid unfavorable and forced participation in the market economy, 
Stern demonstrates that Quechua men and women often became shrewd participants in 
colonial markets as sellers of raw materials and finished textiles, as transportation 
providers and as vendors of foodstuffs and prepared meals and beverages (ibid. 77, 75). 
While some runa living in rural villages permanently moved to urban centers in the 
early colonial era in order to escape family or ayllu tensions or to seek a more 
comfortable and economically secure existence, participation in the mercantilist market 
economy did not necessarily mean that Quechua entrepreneurs abandoned the 
organizational and subsistence strategies of their ayllu groups. On the contrary, market 
participation often served as a ?tactic? which provided a Quechua family with enough 
currency to satisfy tribute requirements without having to give up their own agricultural 
products (ibid. 90). Ironically, further outside interference in the ayllus? economic, 
political and cultural practices was averted by the members? participation in the 
mercantilist economy instituted by the invaders.  
51
 The Quechua Food-universe and Gastronomical Colonialism
 Food?at least as much as language and religion, perhaps more so?is cultural litmus. It identifies and, 
therefore, necessarily, differentiates. Fellow members of cultural communities recognize each other by 
what they eat and scan the menu to spot the excluded.
       Fern?ndez-Armesto   Near a Thousand Tables, A History of Food
 Throughout history, colonizing nations have often attempted to consolidate their 
power through the control and even the eradication of the languages of a colonized 
people. As the Kenyan novelist Ng
g wa Thiong?o eloquently puts it:  ?The 
domination of a people?s language, by the languages of the colonising nations was 
crucial to the domination of the mental universe of the colonised? (16). Another tool of 
domination that is perhaps not as frequently acknowledged is the colonizer?s attempt to 
replace the food-universe of a colonized people.14 In the Andes, Spanish conquistadors, 
priests and administrators attempted to attain their respective ambitions through 
projects of linguistic and gastronomical colonization of the indigenous Quechua 
culture. Spanish colonizers initially encouraged the spread of Quechua (called runasimi 
by those who speak the language) in order to further their project of evangelization and 
to facilitate the collection of tribute payments and other administrative duties. Instead 
of translating catechisms, sermons, prayers and the Bible into the numerous indigenous 
languages spoken throughout the present-day countries of Ecuador, Per? and Bolivia, 
they simply continued the Inca practice of requiring all subjugated groups to learn 
Quechua. After the insurrections of the 1780s, however, attempts were made to restrict 
the production of Quechua theatre and the dissemination of Quechua songs and tales in 
the hopes of preventing future uprisings (Mannheim The Language of the Inka 71). 
Regardless of such efforts to restrict communication and cultural production in 
Quechua, the language continues to flourish throughout the Andes. 
52
 Similar to their attempts to restrict the use of Quechua for purposes not directly 
linked to the Church, Spaniards also attempted to encourage Andeans to shift their 
gastronomical preferences to European fare (Kubler 355). Yet while the Inca Garcilaso 
admits that at first Andeans were quite curious to try new Spanish foodstuffs, after the 
novelty waned most runa still preferred to eat the Andean products that they were 
accustomed to cultivating and preparing (Garcilaso bk. IX ch. XXX; Kubler 355; Super 
88). A similar attitude towards ?European?, ?urban?, ?white? foods such as rice, bread 
and pasta seems to exist in the Andes today. In the parish of Zumbagua in highland 
Ecuador, Weismantel notes: 
. . . today, the aggressive presence of ?white? foods is met by the stubborn, 
uncelebrated existence at the core of indigenous doxa15. If children?s longing 
for bread and the fetishization of white rice as the sign of superiority represent 
pressure to assimilate, barley products stand for cultural resistance . . . [Barley] 
is referred to as ?good, substantial food? as being ?as filling as meat? as ?food 
that warms you up?. (Food, Gender 159-60)  
Even though white rice enjoys a certain allure as a prestige food eaten by whites and is 
purchased in the market, ?it is acknowledged to be a less substantial food than barley, 
fava beans, or potatoes? (ibid. 149). In her ethnographic study of a community near 
Juliaca in the Southern Peruvian department of Puno, Edita Vokral observes a similar 
attitude towards rice (and other ?city? foods such as cheese and meat) versus papas. She 
notes:  
Las papas son estimadas como nutritivas? and while rice is considered a 
delicious treat, ?. . . se enfatiza siempre que del arroz se consume poco y que se 
completa siempre con chu?o o quinua; de esa manera se obtiene supuestemente 
una comida balanceada. El fideo, el pan, y el arroz . . . son considerados como 
pobres en nutrientes. Solamente pocos dicen que la carne o el queso son 
nutritivos. (301) 
53
 The allure of white rice in Zumbagua and Juliaca is analogous to Audrey Richards? 
observation made in the 1930s while living among the Bantu peoples of Southern 
Africa. The anthropolgist notes that the ?practical? values of cattle actually paled in 
comparison to their symbolic value:  ?the herd is less important as a source of meat, 
milk, and leather, than as the object of social ambitions, rivalries and emotions? 
(Hunger and World 97).  
In rural communities of highland Per? the attitude towards hatun llaqta--city 
foods such as rice, pasta and bread as compared to the local staples of papa, ch?u?o and
 moraya parallel those noted by Weismantel and Vokral. When visiting rural villages in 
the Q?eros region of Southern Per?, children excitedly accept my gifts of bread and 
packaged cookies, while their mothers always thank me for the packages of pasta and 
bags of rice that I offer them. I have noticed, however, that when finishing a meal of 
pasta or rice in the home where I usually stay, my hostess Luisa inevitably passes 
around a small pot of boiled potatoes. When on one particular occasion I declined to 
accept a boiled potato, I was sternly reminded by Louisa that while pasta and tomatoes 
are a nice treat, it is impossible to warm up and maintain one?s strength against the icy 
winds without eating at least a few small potatoes.16 Languages and food-universes 
both possess important symbolic and pragmatic functions that a colonized people must 
often defend against the destructive ambitions of a hegemonic power. 
More than four hundred and fifty years have passed since the Spanish first 
arrived in Per? declaring Quechua ?manjares? ?. . . tan r?sticos y groseros, que no hab?a 
m?s que mal cocido y peor asado en las brasas? (Cobo 1: bk. XIV, ch. V ). Regardless 
of the conquerors? low opinion of their cuisine, Quechua cooks have retained countless 
54
 recipes calling for Andean ingredients, while also integrating many European (as well 
as Asian, Middle Eastern and Mesoamerican) food products into their culinary 
repertoires. The inhabitants of the Andes developed a stunningly diverse array of 
agricultural products, many of which serve as important food staples for the world?s 
population today. These agricultural innovations include more than twenty varieties of 
corn; at least two-hundred varieties of potato; as well as one or more varieties of 
squash, beans, peppers, peanuts, cassava, avocado, highland tubers and grains such as 
quinoa, kiwicha and ca?ihua (Cabieses Cien Siglos 78). Pre-conquest runa 
agriculturists had also carefully tended, selected and cultivated a wide variety of both 
highland and tropical fruits including:  papaya, pineapple, chirimoya, maracuy?, 
l?cuma, avocado, guava, tomato, tomate de ?rbol and granadilla. 
Food, Cooking and the Construction of Identities:
 For many people, eating particular foods serves not only as a fulfilling experience, but also as a 
liberating one?an added way of making some kind of a declaration. Consumption, then, is at the same 
time a form of self-identification and of communication? much of the symbolic overloading of food rests 
particularly in its utility for this purpose.                           
Sidney Mintz Tasting Food, Tasting Freedom
 Throughout history, the Quechua food-universe has influenced the construction 
of oppositional tactics designed to resist social, political and economic oppression 
within Andean homes, communities and cities. Food (and its preparation and 
consumption) also occupies important roles in the construction, negotiation and 
interpretation of Quechua identities in both colonial and contemporary Andean 
societies. As Mintz points out in the passage cited above, food plays an important role 
in the construction and creation of both individual and group identities. Moreover, 
55
 ?food crosses the border between the ?outside? and the ?inside? [worlds] and this 
?principle of incorporation? touches upon the very nature of a person? (Fischler 275). 
For this reason, in most cultures it is assumed that peoples eating similar foods are 
?trustworthy, good, familiar?, a characteristic which allows for cookery to help ?give 
food and its eaters a place in the world? (ibid. 276). 
After analyzing the results of his extensive surveys of French ?taste?, Pierre 
Bourdieu comes to a similar conclusion, determining that taste can be correlated not 
with beauty or abstract aesthetic categories, but with social position. He asserts:  ?Taste 
classifies, and it classifies the classifier. Social subjects, classified by the classification, 
distinguish themselves by the distinctions they make?, so that while the working class 
tends to prepare and consume substantial meals, other social classes have largely 
abandoned this practice (Distinction 6). Increased income he posits, ?is accompanied 
by a strengthening of the social censorships which forbid coarseness and fatness, in 
favour of slimness and distinction? (ibid. 185).
 The concept of identity is as complex as it is important. Indeed the notion of 
identity should actually be referred to as identities, since in the Andes as elsewhere, 
identities are flexible, multiple and under constant revision and reconstruction.17 When 
Homi Bhabha asks which of the identities of a working woman determines her political 
choices (we might also add:  her artistic choices, or her choice of ingredients for the 
evening meal) he can only answer that such a choice depends on: 
. . . the production of alternative or antagonistic images [or identities] that are 
always produced side-by-side and in competition with each other. This side-by-
 side nature, this partial presence. . . gives meaning to a politics of struggle as 
the struggle of identifications and the war of positions. (29) 
56
 The question of identity is never an affirmation of a pre-given descriptive category, but 
instead exists in an atmosphere of uncertainty that always surrounds the body (Fanon 
Black Skin White Masks ctd. in Bhaba 45). In this way, ?identification, identity is never 
an a priori; nor a finished product; it is only ever the problematic process of access to 
an image of totality? (Bhaba 51).  This concept of identity as process echoes Stuart 
Hall?s formulation of cultural identity as ?becoming? and not simply ?being?; since it 
belongs to the future and not only to the past, it undergoes constant transformation 
(?Cultural Identity and Diaspora? 112). Instead of conceiving of identity as ?an already 
accomplished fact?, he suggests that cultural identity should be thought of as ?a 
?production?, which is never complete, always in process, and always constituted 
within, not outside representation? (ibid. 110).  
During the reign of the Incas, then the Spaniards and now in contemporary 
times, food has served as an important tool in the process of constructing identities in 
the Andes. Likewise, it should be pointed out that the symbolic and social significance 
of foods are as mutable as the identities of those who prepare and consume them, so 
that the meaning attached to a certain dish may change over time or may depend upon 
the context in which it is served. Invoking Derrida?s play with ?differ? and ?defer?, Hall 
reminds us that ?meaning is never finished or completed, but keeps on moving to 
encompass other, additional or supplemented meanings, which?disturb the classical 
economy of language and representation? (ibid. 115). In light of such flexibility and 
impermanence, it does not seem overly cautious to posit that the relation between food 
and identity can only be established in relative, or temporary terms. Just how, for 
57
 whom and in what contexts such identities are constructed will be explored in the 
following chapters.18
 The Role of Food in Peruvian Quechua Communities:  Examples Past and Present
 In addition to its role as a tool in identity construction, throughout history the 
Quechua food-universe has also been responsible for carrying out a number of both 
ritual and mundane functions within the community. For instance, food sacrifices and 
remedies play an important role in healing diseases within Quechua communities. This 
fusion of food and medicine is by no means unique to the Quechua culture. Written in 
Latin around 1465 by a scholar and humanist named Platina, De Honesta Voluptate et 
Valetudine became Europe?s first international cookbook best-seller. The entire first 
half of the large tome is comprised of a humanist treatise on health and well-being and 
includes suggestions for food and herbal recipes believed to cure a plethora of common 
ailments. American cookbooks published in the nineteenth and early twentieth century 
also frequently included a chapter of ?home remedy recipes? suggesting food and herbal 
concoctions as cures for many common illnesses. 
In Tahuantinsuyu, local curers known as camasca or soncoyoc prepared 
different food sacrifices depending on the type of malady suffered by a patient. For an 
illness caused by ?religious neglect?, the soncoyoc would place a mixture of black and 
white maize flour and ground seashells in the hand of the ailing runa, ask her to repeat 
certain words and then attempt to appease the deities by blowing the powder in their 
direction (Kendall 93). An illness caused by the ?neglect of ancestor worship? could be 
cured by placing food and chicha on the ancestor?s tomb or near the ancestor?s 
58
 possessions in a corner of the home (ibid.). ?Cleansing cures? involved the preparation 
of a bath of maize flour, while certain ?internal disorders? suffered by the elite involved 
opening the stomach with an obsidian knife and proceeding to pretend to remove 
?snakes, toads, and other foreign bodies? (ibid.). 
Food sacrifices still play an important role in the healing of diseases in the 
Andes, particularly in rural villages with little access to westernized medicines, 
hospitals, or medical professionals. Once when I came down with a respiratory 
infection in an isolated rural Peruvian village, my hostess insisted that we burn a small 
despacho-offering of ch?u?o, coca leaves and trago-liquor for the local deity, Apu 
?a?antiyoq. She explained that the Apu had become angry with me for having 
remained in the village for several days without introducing myself and thus he had 
sent a ch?iri wayra- cold wind into my lungs in order to demonstrate both his power 
and his disapproval.19 My hostess prepared a coca leaf infusion to warm my lungs and 
within a few days ?a?antiyoq had accepted my presence and allowed for the ch?iri 
wayra to seep out of my lungs.
 While a food sacrifice or remedy may be prescribed to treat an illness, the 
symbolic pairing of alimentary and mortuary forces suggests the close relationship 
between these two energies within the Quechua worldview. The strength of this 
association is confirmed by the runa notion of a ?communion of stomachs? which 
exists between the living, or between the living and the dead (Allen). This 
?communion? means ?. . . the dead and the absent may on occasion be fed through the 
medium of the body [of a present, living eater]? (ibid). Amongst the runa of Southern 
Per?, it is also common knowledge that an empty stomach leaves one dangerously 
59
 susceptible to potentially deadly illness. Such hunger-induced ailments may take the 
form of the much feared ?sickness of the winds?, an illness which occurs when 
malignant energies penetrate a human body weakened either by the rapidly receding 
light of dusk or by hunger.20 Runa do not, however, consider just any sort of food as 
adequate protection against malevolent spirits. While on long walks between villages in 
the Q?eros region of the Southern Peruvian Andes, I have often been scolded for 
attempting to quell my hunger pangs with a raw (thus cold) apple instead of boiled 
(warm) potatoes, or for drinking cold water with a warm meal. According to my hosts, 
mixing warm food with a cold beverage could prove just as harmful to my health eating 
nothing at all.  The cold outside air must be countered by warm liquid within the body, 
just as the Incaic verses below carefully balance expressions of gratitude with petitions 
and inventories of fears with optimistic hopes for healthy crops and animal herds.21
 Garcilaso mentions that traditional medicine in the Andes focused a lot of 
attention on the need to balance hot and cold:  ?Al fr?o de la terciana o cuartana llaman 
?chucchu-, que es temblar; a la calentura llaman ?rupa-, que es quemarse. Tem?an 
mucho estas tales enfermedades por los extremos, ya de fr?o, ya de calor? (bk. II ch. 
XXV).22 Similarly, eating too much ?cold? food can also cause serious illness. In his 
seventeenth century text Guaman Poma describes this belief system explaining, ?llou?a 
muy mucho este mes [febrero] y au?a abundancia de yuyos [planta acu?tica comestible] 
pero muy mucha hambre de comida . . . ay mueren muchos biejos y biejas y ni?os de 
c?maras y fr?o del est?mago y por comer todo uerde y mucha fruta fresca y tener 
hambre; prosede todo mal humor del cuerpo con el uapor de la tierra se ajunta? 
(Guaman Poma de Ayala 1: 213). In the month of March, however, eating yuyos no 
60
 longer causes illness, as they are paired with the consumption of warm llullo papa
 [papa primeriza] and michica sara [ma?z temprano] (ibid.). Here Guaman Poma refers 
to the need to balance warmth and cold within the human body in order to protect 
against disease, a belief which echoes Greek humoralism?the medical philosophy 
which called for the balance of the four liquid humors of the body in order to ensure 
proper health. In various regions of Iran, India, Malaysia and China, food has been 
classified according to temperature for centuries. In Iran for example, all foods except 
salt, water, tea and some fungi are categorized as either ?hot? or ?cold? (Fern?ndez-
 Armesto 34-35, Sahar Mughadam, personal communication).
 If an empty stomach invites sickness, it is a satisfied belly that protects one 
from harm and encourages future prosperity and health. In the Quechua worldview, 
excess protects, paucity endangers and one?s fate quite often depends on the ability to 
successfully avoid slipping into scarcity?s cold, hostile clutches.  In order to enhance 
the chances of attaining a prosperous future, a child?s chukcha rutuy- first haircut 
ceremony cannot be carried out if a lavish meal and ample alcohol are lacking. The 
definition of a lavish meal is of course relative and the type and quantity of food and 
drink differ according to the host?s income level and the proximity of their home to a 
road or a marketplace. A feast served at a chukcha rutuy in an isolated highland village 
will likely consist of boiled, then pan-fried cuy-guinea pig, boiled potatoes, corn chicha 
and ca?azo--cane liquor. Amongst lower/middle class mestizos residing in the city of 
Cuzco, a chukcha rutuy banquet often consists of roasted chicken, beef and/or cuy, rice, 
french fries, rocoto relleno, Cuzque?a beer and soda and a decorated cake ordered from 
a neighborhood bakery.  
61
 Similar feasts are held in honor of the formal engagement of a couple known as 
casarakuy. As in Richard?s formulation of the role of food in establishing legal and 
economic contracts (discussed in the introduction), during this Quechua ritual the 
offering and accepting of food and drink signals a variety of long-term pacts.  
Accepting the generous servings of food and alcohol offered by the groom?s family, 
signals that the bride and her parents approve of the marriage proposal. Similarly, the 
honored guests of any chukcha rutuy are the child?s godmother and father (comadre
 and compadre), while the pair?s important role in the ceremony is typically signified by 
offering them the choicest piece of cuy or cut of meat and the first serving of each of 
the many rounds of alcohol. In accepting these heaping plates of food, the compadres
 are tacitly agreeing to care for the small child should anything happen to both parents 
and to look out for the child?s economic and emotional stability throughout his or her 
life. In these cases, food acts symbolically as an unwritten contract between two 
families. When one family fills the belly of another, an agreement has been reached and 
certain responsibilities have been assumed.
 During the February carnaval festival and the feasts of San Juan and Santiago, 
both humans and their animals (llamas, alpacas, sheep or horses, depending on the 
festival and community) are stuffed with coca, chicha and food to ensure both their 
health and fertility during the coming year. During interviews in the community of 
Quico in the Q?eros region, several women explained to me that in order to convince 
the llamas to breed successfully and to produce strong, healthy offspring, their runa
 companions must dedicate a certain song to the llamas, while simultaneously 
presenting the animals with the brightest and largest blossoms of the phallcha plant and 
62
 large quantities of corn chicha. The women claimed that they could only find these 
bright red flowers at the very top of mountain slopes and only for a few weeks of the 
year during the rainy season. To venture up to such heights in wet, inclement weather 
was dangerous they conceded, though they insisted that it was well worth the risk of 
becoming ill in order to satisfy the llama?s wishes during the breeding season. 
When five different women living in separate households within the community 
of Quico were asked what sort of song a llama might receive during breeding season, 
all of the women sang a very similar song which they referred to as Llama takin ?Song 
of the Llama?. In the version which I recorded, transcribed and translated below, the 
invocation --Mamallay mama-- is repeated six times and is both preceded and followed 
by delicate reminders of the care and sacrifice expended in securing fine, well-aged 
chicha and the most delicious blossoms of the ?phallcha chuncha? flower. Like the 
Incaic verses which will be discussed in chapter two, the lines of Llama takin carefully 
balance respectful adoration with subtle reminders which suggest that in exchange for 
the generous offerings of their human companions, the llamas (or deities in the case of 
the Incaic verses) should reciprocate accordingly.
 For runa, every object (rocks, cooking pots, musical instruments), place (rivers, 
mountain peaks, agricultural fields) or being (humans, animals, insects) which 
possesses a function or purpose is animated and therefore infused with the necessary 
energy to carry out its designated function or purpose (Taylor Camac, camay 7). Each 
earthly object, place or being also corresponds to its own primordial, animating double 
which infuses it with vital energy (Taylor ibid. 5; Allen 59, 258). In describing the 
worship of certain stellar constellations throughout the Andes, Polo de Ondegardo 
63
 explains that according to ?creencias indias?, all animals possessed a ?semejante? in 
the sky which is responsible for assuring the procreation and multiplication of its 
earthly double (Taylor ibid.; Urton 169). While the priest and chronicler Jos? de Acosta 
considers this idea as analogous to the idea/form binary of Platonic Idealism, Cobo 
describes the Andean belief system in terms of primary and secondary causes:
 La adoraci?n de las estrellas procedi? de aquella opini?n . . . de que para la 
conservaci?n de cada especia de cosas hab?a el Criador se?alado y como 
substitu?do, una causa segunda; en cuya conformidad creyeron que de todos los 
animales y aves de la tierra hab?a en el cielo un s?mil que atend?a a la 
conservaci?n y aumento dellos . . . (Cobo  II: ch. XCX qtd. in Taylor ibid.)
 In his translation of the Huarochir? ?a Quechua language manuscript dating from the 
late sixteenth century in which indigenous narrators describe religious rituals, beliefs 
and myths-- Arguedas explains that the reference to llamap camaquen relates to the 
worship of stellar constellations:  ?. . . una sombra de llama, un doble de este animal 
que camina por el centro del cielo, pues es una oscuridad del cielo? (qtd. in Taylor ibid. 
8).
 While Taylor, Arguedas and Urton attest to the pre-colonial and contemporary 
belief in an animating energy possessed by stellar constellations which effects the 
vitality of their earthly doubles, the illa is an animating double whose materiality lies 
much closer to the runa?s home and community. Allen describes the illa as a small 
stone model kept within the homes of most runa families and which is believed to 
concentrate ?special generative powers? (258). The illa is also considered as the 
repository of well-being for the animal or household that it represents:  ?[illas] are a 
source of the health and fertility of the livestock, the crops, and the family members 
themselves? (ibid. 59). Both the animating powers of the stellar constellations and the 
64
 household illas reflect the runa belief that the generative power of ?doubles? infuses 
earthly beings, places and objects with a vital essence. This concept of life-infusing 
doubles is an important aspect of ?Llama Takin? since the song?s chorus of ?Mamallay 
mama? can be understood as an invocation of the animating double (either in the form 
of a constellation or an illa) of earthly llamas during the annual breeding ceremony. 
In discussing the presence of a pre-colombian agricultural cult, Silverblatt 
reveals the ways in which the animating essence of stellar constellations and illa
 objects also relate to the appellative mama. In describing this cult of the Mamayuta or
 Saramama, Silverblatt explains that the deity was believed to possess generative 
powers that could only be properly revered by human females, since they were also 
capable of reproducing life (Moon, Sun, and Witches 33-34). Although Gon?alez 
Holgu?n defines mama as ?la hembra ya paridera?, I have opted to translate the chorus 
of this song as ?my dear animating mama, mama? in order to evoke the more complex 
meanings associated with this repeated invocation.
 Llama Takin Song of the Llama
 Altopitaq santo t?ika In the highest reaches, sacred flower
    Mamallay mama                                My dear animating mama, mama
 Mayu wichay chiri para Above the river, frigid rain
    Mamallay mama        My dear animating mama , mama
 Altopitaq santo t?ika In the highest reaches, sacred flower
    Mamallay mama        My dear animating mama , mama
 Mayu wichay chiri para Above the river, frigid rain
    Mamallay mama        My dear animating mama , mama
 Altopitaq phallcha chuncha In the highest reaches phallcha chuncha
    Mamallay mama        My dear animating mama , mama
 Phallcha pilaspa Phallcha you are eating
    Mamallay mama      My dear animating mama , mama 23
 (Elisa Condori, my transcription) (my translation)
65
 In the verses of Llama Takin, the performer repeatedly pays respectful tribute to 
the animating essence of all llamas, referring to her as ?my dear animating mama? 
(mama-lla-y); using the affectionate enclitic -lla-  and the possessive -y- respectively. 
When asked about the meaning of this song, Elisa explained that by repeatedly intoning 
the distant and precarious location of the phallcha fields-- ?in the highest reaches? 
above the river, [in the] frigid rain??she is subtly reminding the llamas (and their 
animating essence) of the difficulty involved in collecting these phallcha blossoms. 
Even more than the subtle words in the song?s verses, the context in which the song is 
performed helps us to understand its meaning. Since women in Quico sing the Llama 
Takin at the beginning of the breeding season (while they feed phallcha flowers to their 
herds), the purpose of the performance is to satisfy the earthly llamas? physical 
cravings and also to pay homage to their ?mama? (the animating essence of all llamas) 
during the breeding season, thus increasing the chances that healthy offspring might be 
engendered.  
An Introduction to Andean Foods:
 Before proceeding to the analysis of culinary representations in colonial and 
contemporary Quechua texts, the following pages will introduce a selection of key 
Andean foods. Some of these foods have been successfully introduced into various 
world cuisines for centuries, while others are little known outside of the Quechua 
communities where they are cultivated. What follows is a brief introduction to some of 
the most important ingredients in Quechua cuisine, presented with an eye to their 
66
 historical, economic, cultural and nutritional importance for cooks and diners in the 
Andes and around the world.   
Papa
 Hans Horkheimer, one of the first scholars to thoroughly study and write about 
Quechua foods and cooking practices justly praises pre-conquest Andeans as brilliant 
observers of all of the possibilities offered by the flora of their environment:    
. . . aprovechando [plantas] silvestres o cultivadas para comer o beber, a causa 
de sus fibras o de su madera, como estimulante o medicamento, como colorante 
o auxiliario tecnol?gico, o tambi?n simplemente como adorno. Raras veces ha 
utilizado un pueblo la flora tan intensivamente, de tantas formas y en tal 
extensi?n. (106)
 Undoubtedly the most economically, socially and nutritionally significant of these 
Andean foodstuffs-- in pre-conquest, colonial and contemporary eras-- is the papa. 
That the quintessential Andean food has come to lose its original name by peninsular 
Spanish speakers can only be explained as a case of mistaken identity. Since the first 
Spaniards to arrive in Per? recognized many Andean foods from their previous 
colonizing campaigns in the Caribbean and Mesoamerica, they often referred to South 
American products using the names that they had previously learned (usually in a 
Caribbean language). As Garcilaso explains, ??todos los nombres que los espa?oles 
ponen a las frutas y legumbres del Per? son del lenguaje de las islas de Barlovento, que 
los han introducidos ya en su lengua espa?ola, y por eso damos cuenta de ellos? (bk. 
VIII ch. X). In this way, ?el tub?rculo llamada batata [sweet potato] por los nativos 
caribe?os que a los espa?oles les son? como patata y luego pas? al ingl?s como potato
 y as? a otras lenguas m?s, lo que ocurri? tambi?n con otros productos que hoy tendr?an 
67
 nombre andino? (Chara Zereceda 22). Thus the papa was initially confused with the 
batata upon arrival in Iberia around 1500, resulting in its christening as the patata-- the 
name by which it is still known in Spain today. In the interest of doing its part to right 
this historical wrong, the present project shall mince no words and in the following 
pages, a papa will be called a papa.
 Although he likely exaggerated the Quechua dependence on the papa, as early 
as 1532 the naturalist, historian, chronicler and priest Bernab? Cobo noted, ?la mitad de 
los indios [del Per?] no tienen otro pan? (1: Book IV cap. xiii).24 Indeed, centuries 
before European populations came to depend on the nutritional value of the papa, it had 
served as a vital, daily staple in the Andes and a became key to the success of Incan 
imperial armies fighting battles and seizing new territory throughout Western South 
America. The first archeological evidence of papa cultivation and consumption is dated 
at 8,000 B.C and was discovered in the Chilca valley?s Tres Ventanas cave south of 
Lima, while papa cultivation becomes evident in the Ayacucho region around 4,400-
 3,100 BC (Brack ?Per??).25 More than 30,000 tons of papas were produced annually in 
the imperial city of Tiahuanaco near Lake Titicaca before it collapsed more than 1000 
years ago and by the time the Spaniards arrived in Per?, more than two hundred 
varieties were cultivated-- a few at altitudes of 4,500 meters  (Fern?ndez-Armesto 100, 
Cabieses Cien Siglos 80). 
So important was the papa to the inhabitants of Tahuaninsuyu that Bernab?
 Cobo reports the use of the tubers as a standard for measuring time throughout the 
empire:
 . . . este tiempo, pues, que se tardan en cocer las papas, toman para medir la 
duraci?n de las cosas que se hacen en breve, respondiendo haber gastado en 
68
 hacer tal o cual cosa tanto tiempo cuanto basta a cocerse una olla de papas. (1: 
bk. XII ch. XXXVII)
 In his attempt to describe high altitude crops for a European audience unfamiliar with 
such foods, Garcilaso explains:  ?. . . por ser la tierra muy fr?a, no se da el ma?z, c?gese 
mucha quinua, que es como arroz, y otras semillas y legumbres que fructificaban 
debajo de tierra, y entre ellas hay una que llaman papa:  es redonda y muy h?meda . . .? 
(bk. V ch. VI).26 Indeed, the papa was capable of sustaining civilization and large scale 
conquests in the Andes due to two unique features:  its tolerance of extreme 
temperatures and altitudes?some varieties can grow at thirteen thousand feet? and its 
nutritional value-- it remains one of the few agricultural products in the world that if 
eaten in sufficient quantities, provides all of the nutrients required by the human body 
(Fern?ndez-Armesto 99).27 These two features later made the papa an indispensable 
staple for millions of Europeans, though not without some serious initial misgivings. 
Although the papa enjoyed almost immediate success in Great Britain after its 
introduction in the late sixteenth century (particularly in the newly established colony 
of Ireland whose climate and geography more closely matched the papa?s native Per?), 
in continental Europe, the starchy tuber did not receive such an enthusiastic welcome 
(ibid.). Its entirely subterranean development, its dubious status as a relative of the 
poisonous tribe of the Nightshade Solanaceae genus (the uncooked fruit, as well as its 
stems and foliage do in fact contain significant amounts of the poisonous alkaloid 
solanin) and its complete lack of odor all contributed to the wary European public?s 
initial suspicion and rejection of the papa (Cabieses Cien Siglos 78).28 Yet as Salaman?s 
pioneering social history of the papa points out, by the beginning of the seventeenth 
69
 century, the tuber had become a vital food source not only for Quechua families, but 
for the Spanish invaders as well.
 In France the papa continued to languish in abandon until the eighteenth century 
philosopher Antoine-Auguste Parmentier?who became convinced of the tuber?s value 
in a Prussian prison during the Seven Year?s War-- decided to embark upon a public 
relations campaign in favor of the papa (Fern?ndez-Armesto 79). Parmentier managed 
to convince King Louis XVI that the South American tuber could serve as an important 
foodstuff for the masses and presented the monarch with his clever scheme for 
convincing the peasants to accept the papa (Richie Food in Civilization 57). The King 
accepted the plan and proceeded to arrange for the planting of a large field of papas on 
the outskirts of Paris. Soldiers were ordered to guard the field both day and night and as 
local peasants passed by to take a look, word soon spread of a mysterious and 
incredibly valuable crop protected by strict security measures. Once the papas were 
ready to harvest, the King withdrew his guards and as expected, the mature tubers soon 
disappeared from the fields by night (ibid. 58). Thus the pomme de terre began its long 
and successful career in France and on menus throughout the country, dishes served 
with a side of papas are still designated a la parmentier?an homage to the Andean 
tuber?s Gallic godfather. 
In eighteenth century Bavaria, Count Rumford ordered cooks to boil papas ?to a 
pulp? in order to adequately disguise the tubers destined for the plates of workhouse 
inmates who had previously refused to eat them (Fern?ndez-Armesto 100).29 Both 
Catherine the Great and Marie Antoinette praised the papa, the latter?so often (and 
unfairly it seems) portrayed as the callous advocate of cake for the masses?reinforced 
70
 her pro-papa campaign by wearing the plant?s flowers on her royal gowns (ibid.). The 
widespread cultivation of papas in Europe, however, spread most rapidly with the 
proliferation of continental wars. Introduced to Belgium with Louis XIV?s bellic 
advances in the 1680s, papa cultivation and consumption moved eastward across 
Germany and Prussia during eighteenth century conflicts and began to supplant rye as a 
basic staple in Russia with the onslaught of the Napoleonic Wars (ibid., Cabieses Cien 
Siglos 78). In Prussia, the notoriously despotic Fredrick II ?the Great? signed a decree 
in 1756 declaring that any peasants refusing to plant papas would receive severe, 
physical punishment (Fern?ndez-Armesto 179). In the early eighteen century, the plant 
was introduced to the soils of the Eastern, North American seaboard. Those first 
insecure papa farmers would have been hard pressed to imagine that only two hundred 
and fifty years later, the hyper industrialized cultivation of potatoes in the U.S. would 
involve a harvest of almost 500,000 hectares, yielding about forty-five billion tons of 
potatoes annually (?Potato Research?). 
Of course the papa is also notorious for its role in the Irish famine of 1845-49 
(more than a million people died and a million more were forced to migrate overseas 
after the potato blight Phytophthora infestans completely destroyed their crops) and the
 food crises that devastated Belgium and Finland in 1867-68 (Fern?ndez-Armesto 205). 
Such disasters resulted from the overwhelming reliance on a single variety of potato?
 an elementary and deadly mistake that no Quechua farmer would have every allowed to 
happen. In the Andes, centuries old agricultural practices avoid the dependence on only 
a few varieties; therefore Quechua farmers mix numerous varieties together in the same 
field ?to allow survival of some cultivars if others fall victim to disease? (Harrison 
71
 Signs, Songs and Memories 182). Still, the papa helped to sustain many of the workers 
who fueled the industrializing societies of eighteenth and nineteenth century Europe, 
while the monetary value of papa harvests obtained in Europe over the past one 
hundred and fifty years have been calculated as surpassing more than three times over 
the value of all of the precious metals extracted from Per? and sent back to the Old 
World (Horkheimer 170). Thus, the seemingly humble papa can easily be considered as 
Per??s most valuable resource and certainly, its most significant agricultural gift to the 
world.
 More than four thousand species of papa are currently cultivated in the world 
and Peruvian farmers harvest three thousand of these varieties, making Per? both the 
original home of the papa and the country with the most diverse cultivation of the tuber
 (CIP).30 When asked about the papa, most Peruvian highlanders will proudly detail the 
flavors, textures and uses of their region?s seemingly endless varieties of papa. The 
importance of the papa in the construction of Quechua/Andean identity is evident in the 
common reprimand which friends or relatives direct at mestizo or runa youth who try to 
assume what is considered to be a ?gringo? or ?coastal/Lime?o? attitude or identity, thus 
temporarily forgetting that they too are ?tan Cuzque?o como la papa wayro.? 
In the Cuzco region of Per?, Quechua farmers and cooks typically divide papas 
into categories of sweet, bitter and wild?these groups are then often subdivided 
depending on the difficulty of cooking each type of papa (Horkheimer 88). Some 
Quechua cooks also explain that the enormous variety of papas can be best understood 
in terms of the way in which type is customarily prepared. Thus it follows that the 
floury peruanita, wayro and q?ompis are used for making pur?--mashed potatoes, papa 
72
 rellena?stuffed papa, or are simply boiled and eaten with the spicy uchukutu sauce at 
countless Cuzco chicher?as. The bitter ruki papa is used only for making ch?u?o, while 
most cooks agree that the wayro papa is adequate for making ch?iri papa. The ch?iri 
papa (or ?papa helada?) is prepared by leaving the tubers outside in the frost for one 
night-- although their liquid is not pressed out as in the case of ch?u?o? and then 
filling them with cheese and steaming them the next morning. If one wishes to slice and 
fry papas or add them to a soup, q?ello, sika, or canchan would be adequate choices as 
these varieties hold together well when chopped and then heated. Harrison points out 
the uselessness of attempting to categorize papas according to Eurocentric categories. 
She cites Hawkes? study (1947) of indigenous nomenclature for many varieties of papa 
in which he attempts to divide the tubers? names into categories such as nouns (names 
of human groups, animals body parts, clothes, plants, tools, natural phenomena, 
miscellaneous), as well as adjectives (color, shape surface taste, miscellaneous) and 
classes of papas (early, late, rapidly maturing) (Hawkes 227, ctd. in Harrison Signs, 
Songs and Memories 181). Such categories, however, ??only demonstrate 
ethnocentric ways of thinking about things, showing us his value system and our own 
while he attempts to have us understand the other categories of Andean peoples? 
(ibid.).31
73
 Sara
 . . .el Sol los enviaba a que poblasen all? en aquel pueblo de Cuzco. . . el Mango Capac y su compa?ero 
con sus cuatro mujeres sembraron unas tierras de ma?z la cual semilla de ma?z d?cen haber sacado ellos 
de la cueva a la cual nombr? este se?or Mango Capac Pacarictambo. . .                       (Betanzos ch. IV)
 Harauayo, harauayo [Harawayu, harawayu                    (Harawiy, harawiy
 Ylla sara camauay Cr?ame, ma?z m?gico                    Infuse me with life, corn animator 
Mana tucocta surcoscayqui  Si no lo haces, te arrancar?            If you don?t, I will pull you up
 Ylla mama, a Coya!  Madre m?gica, ?Reina! ] Animating mama, Queen!)
 (Guaman Poma de Ayala)          [translation, Guaman Poma de Ayala]         (my translation)32
 Even in the most inhospitable of environments, tubers have faithfully provided 
life-sustaining energy to the Quechua families who have cultivated them for thousands 
of years. Yet they are rarely fermented into alcohol for use during religious 
celebrations, nor are they burnt as sacrifices to placate the gods. The disparaging 
?ch?u?ullata mihuq?- ?he who eats only ?ch?u?u? can be heard as an insult on the streets 
of contemporary Cuzco in a form similar to that which appeared in the oral traditions of 
the Huarochir?, ??l que come papas asadas, no m?s? and in Guaman Poma?s description 
of the weak and lazy runa living in Colla Suyos described as possessing ?gran cuerpo y 
gordo, seboso, para poco porque comen todo chuno y ueuen chicha de chuno? (in 
Murra La organizaci?n econ?mica 148; Guaman Poma 1: 308). Gon?alez Holguin?s 
1608 Quechua dictionary indicates that the consumption of a variety of foods is 
considered as a sign of a fine, misqui meal. ?Miccurcarini? o ?miccurcayani? are the 
words used to indicate: ?Comer de muchas comidas y guisados juntos, o 
esplendidamente?, while ?Kapacpas miccurcanricuci huac chamkana huc vscayllacta 
miccu payacmi? reinforces the same idea:  ?Los ricos comen de varias comidas mas el 
pobre siempre vnas cosas que no tienen mas.? Interestingly, on this same page 
Gon?alez Holgu?n records the definition for ?muttillacta micupayani?, ?Como siempre 
74
 mote que no tengo mas?, thus his example of the food for the poorest of runa who can 
only afford to eat one thing is not a tuber, but the boiled corn product called mote 
(ibid.).
 In most cases, however, it is the utterly indispensable papa that is unfairly 
reproached while maize33 is (perhaps unduly) exalted. Although unable to withstand the 
frost of the high altiplano and demanding levels of humidity that most highland regions 
never enjoy, the Incas fastidiously tended to their maize fields even though they 
realized that the limited highland yields could never come close to providing the 
nutritional value offered by the dependable, humble papa (Murra La organizaci?n 
econ?mica 147). The lords of Tahuantinsuyu even managed the seemingly impossible 
feat of cultivating a bit of maize destined for ceremonial purposes at altitudes of nearly 
4000 meters on the islands of lake Titicaca (Garcilaso bk. III ch. XXV). 
It is unclear whether maize originated in Mesoamerica or in Per?; sites dating 
from the mid-fourth century B.C. in central Mexico indicate its presence, while 
fragmentary evidence of its cultivation has been discovered in both central Mexico and 
Southern Per? with dates reaching back at least a thousand years earlier (Fern?ndez-
 Armesto 94, Bonav?a 35). Wherever the location of its original cultivation, maize 
became a vital nutritional and ceremonial crop in both regions, playing important roles 
in the daily and ritual lives of all three of the major, pre-conquest civilizations in the 
Americas:  Mayan, Aztec and Incan. In the Andes, the sheer number of words that exist 
in the Quechua lexicon to describe the plant?s numerous varieties and preparations 
indicates the importance of maize. 
75
 The colonial chronicler Bernab? Cobo notes the Andean practice of carefully 
naming each variety and preparation of a foodstuff and asserts, ?. . . porque siendo ellos 
tan curiosos e inteligentes en la agricultura y conocimiento de plantas, que no hay 
yerbecita por peque?a y desechado que parezca, a quien no tengan puesto nombre. . .? 
(1: bk. IV ch. I)]. Gon?alez Holguin?s seventeenth century Quechua dictionary lists 
nineteen definitions for different varieties of maize, dishes made from maize, or useful 
parts of the plant, while Guaman Poma mentions more than ten different varieties of 
maize in his Primer nueva cor?nica. In both of these texts, the difficult nature of maize 
cultivation becomes evident through the nature of the lexicon associated with maize. Of 
Gon?alez Holguin?s  fifteen entries associated with papa, more than half of these attest 
to the efficiency of the staple (?chaucha?, ?la papa que madura en breve tiempo?; 
?pacus?, o ?uripapa?, ?las primerizas papas o tempranas?; ?vri?, o ?mahuay?, ?las papas 
primerizas o las que maduran primero?; ?chachao pacus?, ?papas que se dan presto en 
tres meses todas?), while the other entries detail various preparation methods for the 
papa (?papacta cu?ani?, ?Assar papas?; ?chamca? , ?el guisado de chu?o o 
ma?amorra?). On the otherhand, a quarter of the maize vocabulary presented in this 
same dictionary relates to diseased maize (?tullpu?, o ?tullpuk ?ara?, ?las gran?as y 
defectos del mayz?; ?hattupan?, ?podrirse la ma?orca seca de mayz?), or unusual cobs 
that bring bad omens (?aryrihua ?aca?, ?dos granos de mayz nazidos juntos?; ?aya apa 
chocllo?, ?ma?orca de dos pegado [,] abusi?n de muerte?). Guaman Poma?s references 
to maize reveal a similarly rich vocabulary associated with the difficulties of cultivating 
the crop:  ?ch?usu sara?, ?ma?z vac?o?; ?hut?u sara?, ?ma?z agusanado?, ?ismu sara?, 
?ma?z podrido?; ?sara suwau?, ?ladr?n de ma?z?; ? sara q?iwiq?, ?que arranca maize.? 
76
 Domingo de Santo Tom?s? 1560 Quechua vocabulary lists only five different varieties 
of maize, although this is at least a more detailed treatment than he gives the papa, 
defined simply as, ?cierto manjar de indios.? 34
 The time consuming nature of maize cultivation as compared to that of the papa 
is also represented in Guaman Poma?s visual and written agricultural calendar. 
Evidently the Quechua chronicler hoped to present this detailed calendar to the Spanish 
King in order to show him the many tasks which the ?indios? needed to carry out in 
order to provide themselves (and also ?a Dios y a su magestad y a los padres, 
corregidores?) with food throughout the year (Guaman Poma de Ayala 3: 1027). Of the 
twelve months presented by Guaman Poma, maize appears in the descriptive title of 
eight of them (and seven of the drawings), while papas appear only four times. Papas 
share the title with maize during two months?July?s post-harvest storage ?Zara Papa 
Apaicui Aimoray? and January?s work party for weeding ?Zara, Papa Hallmai Mita?
 (which is glossed as ?ma?z, tiempo de lluvias y e aporcar?, thus reducing the importance 
of caring for the papa in this month and perhaps emphasizing the work involved in 
weeding the corn seedlings). Papas become the key agricultural focus in the title of just 
two months-- June?s harvest ?Papa Allai Mitan Pacha? and December?s planting ?Papa 
Oca Tarpui Pacha?--, while they appear in only three of the twelve drawings (Guaman 
Poma de Ayala 3: 1028-1063). Farmers must protect their maize crop from birds, foxes, 
dogs and humans eager to steal a taste of the developing crop during the months of 
February, March, April and October and must irrigate the newly planted seedlings in 
November. Meanwhile, the maturing papas dutifully mature underground without 
requiring any further attention until harvest time in June.
77
 Although the Quechua language reflects the importance of both papas and 
maize in highland culture, in his essay ?Ma?z, Tub?rculos y Ritos Agr?colas?, Murra 
notes that surprisingly, sixteenth century chroniclers relate very little information 
regarding the papa (or quinua) and that the rituals, calendars and ceremonies they 
describe, almost exclusively involve maize (147). Harrison also demonstrates the way 
in which Guaman Poma?s drawings of Andean ritual and agricultural cycles seem to 
reflect this ideology; the chronicler privileges the pictorial representation of maize over 
papa, even if he does describe the papa occasionally in his written text (Harrison Signs, 
Songs and Memories 175). Murra insists, however, that we should not assume that the 
Incas did not dedicate some ceremonies to their indispensable tubers. Instead, he 
argues, we should recall that most of the chroniclers? informants were descendents of 
the recently vanquished Incan elite and were thus more focused on presenting the 
impressive state mechanisms (such as the sophisticated terracing and irrigation required 
for the cultivation of corn), but ignored the subsistence level farming (of the papa) at 
the level of the local peasant community (148).35
 One could also argue that maize was accorded more ritual attention due to its 
close association with the sun god Inti. In contrast to the subterranean, earthen colored 
papa, the maize cob-- with its golden kernels and protective blond tassels-- matures 
above ground, clutching onto a stalk that seems to continually stretch skywards. 
Additionally, for all of the reasons mentioned above, maize cultivation was an arduous, 
uncertain undertaking (as evidenced by the vocabulary associated with it), meaning that 
the fruits of this labor were not to be depended on and when they did appear, they were 
all the more esteemed. Just as we usually try to serve our guests with the finest we can 
78
 offer, in their ceremonial use of maize, perhaps the Incas? sought to present the gods 
with their most prized, luxury foodstuff.  
It appears as if the Spaniards? preference for maize over the papa matched that 
of the Incas, thus Cobo relates that by 1653 (the date of the prologue to his Historia del 
Nuevo Mundo), maize is already well known in Spain where it is called ?trigo de las 
Indias? (1: bk. IV ch. II.). Cobo compares wheat cultivation to that of maize, since 
?todas las tierras que llevan trigo, llevan tambi?n ma?z, y las que por ser muy fr?as no 
producen trigo, tampoco se da en ellas ma?z? (although he does concede that maize can 
survive at higher temperatures and humidity than wheat) (ibid.). Garcilaso describes the 
laborious process carried out by the native Peruvians in order to prepare the Spaniard?s 
cornbread. Apparently the Iberians required their Quechua cooks to remove the thin 
outer peel of each kernel and then carefully sift the grounded meal (bk. VIII ch. IX-X). 
The Andean chronicler scoffs at such fastidious tastes claiming that no one had 
bothered with such an unnecessary process before the arrival of the Spaniards, since the 
Incas ?no eran tan regalados que les ofendiese el afrecho, ni el afrecho es tan ?spero, 
principalmente el del ma?z tierno, que sea menester quitarlo? (bk. VIII ch. IX). 
Initially, however, maize?s popularity amongst Europeans remained limited to 
those living in the New World who ate the food prepared by Amerindian cooks. The 
plant first arrived in Sevilla in the year 1495 and by 1525 the peasants of Spain, 
Portugal and Italy had begun to consume the new grain as if it were wheat and without 
supplementing their diet of maize with meat, squash, beans, or any other protein and 
vitamin rich foods (Ritchie Food in Civilization 56, Cabieses Cien Siglos 142). As a 
result, large numbers of European peasants became ill with pellagra, a disease resulting 
79
 from a diet deficient in niacin and which results in severe physical and mental 
deterioration (Cabieses ibid. 145).36 Of course in Per? or Mesoamerica, indigenous 
cooks would never have imagined serving a meal consisting of only maize, much less 
depend upon such a diet for weeks and months on end. Consuming maize along with 
beans, squash and chile peppers in Mesoamerica and squash, tarwi, papa and uchu in 
Per? provided these populations with the necessary balance of proteins (maize contains 
little, although morosara-?purple corn? contains 20 percent more than other varieties), 
vitamins (maize lacks niacin, a component in the B vitamin complex) and amino acids 
(maize is low in both the vital lysine and tryptophan) (Fern?ndez-Armesto 94, Cabieses 
ibid. 145).37 Thus maize acquired an unjust, but very rotten reputation; so unloved was 
the New World?s treasure crop in nineteenth century Europe that even when the Irish 
were dying of hunger in 1847 they refused to eat corn. Referencing its yellow color, 
they disparaged it as ?Peel?s sulfur?, in (dis)honor of England?s much hated Prime 
Minister (Ritchie Food in Civilization 56).38 Eventually of course, Europeans and the 
rest of the world came to appreciate the New World?s gift of maize and it now ranks 
just behind wheat and rice as the third most consumed food staple in the world 
(Fern?ndez-Armesto 99).
80
 Quinua
 La quinua era un alimento que hasta hace treinta a?os solamente lo com?an los indios. Si yo le
 preguntaba a un caballero (en Lima llamamos caballero solo a la gente de clase alta) si come
 quinua, me mirar?a con verdadero espanto como si lo hubiera ofendido.
 Jos? Mar?a Arguedas narrating his ?Peruvian experience? at 
a round table discussion in Chile, 1968.
 While the highland grain is still considered a low prestige ?alimento de indios? 
by some Peruvians, in the U.S. and Europe quinua is most often sold in expensive 
organic food stores; wrapped in fancy packaging and sold alongside other ?exotic? 
grains such as amaranth or millet, it is frequently marketed as an ?Ancient Incan Super 
food?. In Peruvian tourist destinations such as Cuzco or the towns of the nearby Sacred 
Valley, upscale restaurants advertising their commitment to the preparation of ?Cocina 
Novoandina? (?New Andean Cuisine?) inevitably offer a variety of elaborate dishes 
featuring the highland grain. For the most part, however, quinua?s importance as a food 
staple remains largely limited to the kitchens of the Quechua farmers who cultivate it in 
the Andean highlands (Padilla Trejo ?Diferencias regionales?). Indigenous families 
who have moved to highland cities frequently cannot afford to purchase the grain (in 
the Mercado Central it costs 3.60 soles per kilo as compared to the s/.50 cost of a kilo 
of papas), therefore its use in highland cities is often limited to the kitchens of middle 
and upper class families (Ayala ?Consumo de Quinua?). 
Even cooks who admit that their use of quinua has declined in the past decade 
extol the nutritional value of the grain; while also pointing out that the water used to 
wash freshly harvested quinua serves as a remedy for killing lice if used to wash either 
hair or clothes (ibid.). The ash from burnt quinua stocks is also used to make llipta, an 
indispensable substance for many runa who chew it along with coca, in order to release 
81
 the leaf?s stimulating alkaloids. Quinua can also be ground into a soft, light brown 
flour, while the extremely nutritious leaves of the quinua plant called lliccha are eaten 
in soups and stews, providing a much appreciated green vegetable for rural highland 
families.
 Classified as (Chenopodium quinoa), the cultivation of the quinua plant appears 
in the archaeological record between 5,800 and 4,400 B.C. in the Department of 
Ayacucho (Brack ?Per??). In pre-colombian times the grain was cultivated on the 
mountain plateaus and in the highland valleys of Per?, Bolivia, Ecuador and Chile, 
while the Aztecs and Mayas also grew it in Mesoamerica (Oekle et. al).39 Quinua grows 
at altitudes of up to 4,000 meters and as Cobo asserts, ?es esta semilla la que sufre m?s 
el fr?o de cuantas nacen en estas Indias, as? de las naturales de ac? como de las tra?das 
de Espa?a; porque se da en tierras tan fr?as donde las m?s se yelan, hasta la cebada? (1: 
bk. IV ch. V). For centuries quinua remained a highland crop, although in the past few 
decades geneticists have developed new varieties capable of surviving at lower 
altitudes and even in coastal areas (Oekle et. al).40
 With its high protein content (fifteen percent), relatively high fat content (five 
percent, as compared to .4 percent in rice, 1.6 percent in wheat and 3.9 percent in corn) 
and high levels of essential amino acids (roughly equivalent to the levels in skim milk), 
quinua (along with papa and maize) served as an important staple in the pre-colombian 
Andes (Oekle et. al, Cabieses Cien Siglos 135).  Garcilaso maintains that in Per? the 
quinua plant was much esteemed:  
. . . las hojas tiernas comen los indios y los espa?oles en sus guisados, porque 
son sabrosas y muy sanas; tambi?n comen el grano en sus potajes, hechos de 
muchas maneras. De la quinua hacen los indios brebaje para beber, como del 
82
 ma?z, pero es en tierras donde hay falta del ma?z. Los indios herbolarios usan de 
la harina y de la quinua para algunas enfermedades. (bk. VIII ch. X)
 In the sacred garden of Coricancha in Cuzco a quinua plant fashioned from gold ?grew? 
alongside the corn stalks, thus revealing the important role it played in Incan society 
(Garcilaso bk. III ch. XXIV).   
Uchu
 Imasmari imasmari? Guess what, guess what?                         (1)
 Imaqtaq kanmanri?                                            What could it be?
 Puka payacha, Red little old lady,     (3)
 k?aspi chupacha.  . . .  Puka uchu [with] a little wooden tail?  Red uchu pepper!!
 Quechua riddle (told by Alejandra Mango)        (My translation)
 Many popular Quechua dishes such as roasted cuy and Achoqcha rellena?
 stuffed squash are almost always served with uchukuta (called llat?n in Spanish), a 
spicy sauce made with a trinity of Andean ingredients:  uchu, huacatay (a green, 
feathery highland herb used in many sauces and cuy recipes in the Cuzco region) and 
inchis (the Quechua word for peanut and now used only by the machula-elders living in 
isolated highland communities?most other Quechua speakers only understand the 
Caribbean name, man?). In some chicher?as uchukuta also includes chopped tomato, 
breadcrumbs, parsley, cilantro, rocoto and onion. Called uchu by speakers of Quechua 
and aj? by Spanish speakers (the latter, a word of Caribbean origin), these hot peppers 
occupy as integral a role in contemporary Quechua cuisine as they did during the reign 
of the Incas. Garcilaso insists that citizens of Tahuantinsuyu favored the uchu above all 
other Andean fruits and he describes it as:  
83
 el condimento que echan en todo lo que comen?sea guisado, sea cocido o 
asado, no lo han de comer sin ?l?, que llaman uchu y los espa?oles pimiento 
de las Indias, aunque all? le llaman aj? que es nombre del lenguaje de las islas 
de Barlovento:  los de mi tierra son tan amigos del uchu que no comer?n sin ?l 
aunque no sea sino unas yerbas crudas. Por el gusto que con ?l reciben en lo que 
comen, prohib?an el comerlo en su ayuno riguroso . . . Generalmente todos los 
espa?oles que de Indias vienen a Espa?a lo comen de ordinario, y lo quieren 
m?s que las especies de la India Oriental. (bk. VIII ch. XIII)41
 By the beginning of the sixteenth century aj??also known as pimiento americano--
 was already widely known in Spain, Italy and the Balkans as a relatively cheaper and 
effective alternative to the seasoning power of the scarce and expensive oriental black 
pepper (Cabieses Cien Siglos 156-57).42 Likewise, contemporary Quechua cooks and 
diners hold uchu in great esteem; indeed even the humblest of restaurant stalls or street 
corner carts offers its customers a small dish of uchu to accompany their meal or snack. 
Recipes offered by cooks carefully specify which uchu should be used in which dish 
and whether or not its seeds or veins should be removed or included in the sauce.43
 One of the spiciest varieties of uchu is the puka uchu featured in the riddle 
which appears above in the epigraph that I have transcribed and translated. Riddles are 
an important part of the Quechua oral tradition and are told for entertainment, as 
didactic tools and for attracting the attention of the opposite sex. In her research in rural 
Ayacucho (in the central Peruvian highlands) Billie Jean Isbell has found that the 
performance of riddle games is carried out almost exclusively by single, adolescents (in 
the context of flirting, seduction and sexual play). In my research in both urban and 
rural contexts in the Department of Cuzco, I heard riddles exchanged between all age 
groups and sexes as a form of entertainment rather than seduction. Isbell argues that 
riddles invoke the Quechua aesthetic of ?balance? given that they include metaphors 
based on reciprocal action or the opposition of semantic categories such as ?animal to 
84
 human, inside to outside, male to female, animate to inanimate, above to below . . .? 
(Isbell and Roncalla Fernandez 46). In the two riddles which I have translated here 
(?puka uchu? and ?cuy?), however, balance is achieved through metric and rhyme 
schemes rather than reciprocal action or semantic oppositions. 
The ?trigger phrase? in many Quechua riddles performed throughout the 
Department of Cuzco consists of two brief questions: ?Imasmari imasmari?/Imataq 
kanmanri?? The repetition of the suffix ?ri? as well as the syllabic rhythm of the words 
in each line (four syllables in each word of line one, three syllables for each word in 
line two) infuses these opening questions with a cadence that attracts the listener?s 
attention and invites her to participate in the subsequent verbal challenge. Both ?puka 
uchu? and ?cuy? use clever, metaphoric imagery and succinct, stark contrasts to present 
a verbal puzzle. The ?puka uchu? riddle creates formal balance through the repetition of 
the suffix ?-cha? in lines three and four while also maintaining syllabic rhythm between 
these last lines (each contains five syllables). In the ?cuy? riddle on the other hand, 
assonance links all four lines in rhythmic unity. Both riddles offer unusual contrasts 
between two disparate images?a red uchu pepper and a red little old lady in the first 
riddle and cuy and cattle in the second. In these verbal constructions, pinning a 
?wooden tail? on a little old lady so that she might have a stem like a pepper and 
comparing domesticated cuy to housebound cattle presents the performer?s 
interlocutor/audience with humorous and unexpected images. Each of these riddles 
uses balanced rhyme schemes and cadences, as well as the invocation of two original 
and starkly contrasting images to create an aesthetically pleasing text for Quechua 
listeners who appreciate these cultural and language-specific codes. 
85
 Cuy
 Imasmari imasmari? Guess what, guess what?            (1)
 Imataq kanmanri? What could it be?
 Wasi waka, Housebound cattle, [who]                      (3)
 mana inti qhawaq?   cuy !! never see the sun?      cuy!
  (told by Raquel Mango Alejo) (My translation)
 Although when eaten in sufficient quantities the Andean grains and tubers 
described above provide the human body with all of the necessary protein, vitamins and 
minerals it needs, various other ?luxury products44? are also occasionally used by the 
Quechua cook in the elaboration of a meal. While most runa cooks rely predominantly 
on vegetables and grains in elaborating their dishes, the dried, salted meat called 
charqui is often added to soups in order to add ?kallpa? (?energy?, nutrients), create a 
more complex flavor and to balance out the ?hotness? and ?coldness? of the other 
ingredients. However, the main source of animal protein for many Quechua families?
 particularly those who lack frequent access to village markets or cash-- remains the 
cuy, which is often raised in the corners of a kitchen, or outside in a wire cage. Of 
course the Spanish conejiillo de indias is just as absurd as the English guinea pig, for 
the cuy is neither a rabbit, nor a pig, nor does it hail from the lands of India or Guinea. 
Even if he did cost one guinea in sixteenth century London markets (as one story goes), 
this was certainly no business of his, thus with all due respect we shall refer to him 
below as he refers to himself always, as <<cuy>>.   
Domesticated in the Andes more than one thousand years before the arrival of 
the Spaniards, cuy is a high protein food (21 percent compared to beef?s seventeen 
percent and poultry?s eighteen percent) that serves as the central dish for pan-Andean 
86
 celebrations such as Corpus Christi, local town or neighborhood fiestas, as well as 
family events such as the chukcha rutuy celebration, or as a special meal to 
commemorate the arrival of an important guest (Cabieses Cien Siglos 228, Morales 
50).45 Cuy in the city of Cuzco is most often roasted, in the surrounding countryside it 
is often briefly boiled and then pan-fried, while in Arequipa the traditional dish is cuy 
chactado?a delicacy requiring a large stone or other heavy object to press the 
seasoned flesh into an oiled frying pan. Regardless of the local recipe, all cooks agree 
that before cooking, cuy must be pre-seasoned or condimentado?a process which 
usually involves the liberal application of a mixture of salt, black pepper, cumin, 
oregano and various grades of uchu according to taste.46
 ***
 The intention of this chapter?s brief tour of the foods cultivated, sold, prepared 
and eaten by Quechua farmers, cooks and families is not to present an exhaustive
 catalogue of every variety of fruit, vegetable, tuber, legume and grain consumed in pre-
 conquest, colonial and contemporary Per?. This formidable yet interesting task shall be 
left to the cultural and gastronomical historians. Instead, the above presentation of 
some of the key foodstuffs that make up the Quechua food-universe is meant to serve 
as a foundation for the following chapters? analyses of the roles and representations of 
food in a variety of Quechua cultural texts. Within households, markets and restaurants 
throughout the Andes some foods are carefully prepared and enthusiastically consumed 
while others are avoided or looked upon with disgust?at times the same dish might be 
esteemed in one household and distained in another. Such distinctions are important for 
the construction of runa identity and as we will see in the following chapters, the 
87
 particular ways in which food and cooking are represented in Quechua texts often 
serves as a tool for conveying complex and multi-valenced meanings.
88
 1
  In 2005, the Peruvian Nuevo sol maintained a fairly steady exchange rate of US$1.00 = ~ 3.3 soles.
 2
  In this chapter, certain Spanish or Quechua words that resist an exact English translation will be 
italicized the first time they appear followed by a hyphen and an English approximation.
 3 While city dwellers often take advantage of this slightly more costly option, in the surrounding rural 
communities it is still common practice to boil the tarwi, pour it into a canvas sack and then submerge 
the sack in a quick moving river for at least one week, so that the rushing water will wash away the 
unpleasant bitterness of the otherwise tasty legume (Elisa Quispe, personal communication).
 4
  Dialogue in Quechua will appear in italics in the following pages in order to distinguish from Spanish 
language passages.
 5
  See Linda Seligmann?s Peruvian Street Lives for a book length study of the political, economic and 
social complexities of Cuzco?s markets.
 6
  Morales and Weismantel are two notable exceptions, as they seek to consider all three of these aspects 
in their studies of Andean foods and Quechua culture. See also Ossio for a discussion of how scholarly 
studies of Andean foods have tended to focus exclusively on nutritional and agricultural aspects of 
Andean products while failing to explore their symbolic significances (Weismantel Food, Gender 549)
 7
  For a discussion of the few scholars who suggest that pre-colombian markets existed in the Andes, see 
John Murra?s article entitled ??Existieron el tributo y los mercados en los Andes antes de la invasi?n 
europea?? (in El Mundo Andino 237 -247).
 8
  See for example, John Hyslop, Jorge Flores Ochoa (1985) and Billie Jean Isbell among others.
 9 The unique microclimates of Per? are described by Carlos Ochoa as consisting of eight different 
regions beginning at sea-level in the coastal region, rising up to the frigid peaks of the Andes mountains 
and dropping back down over the eastern Andean slopes into the Amazon basin: Coastal, 0-500 meters 
above sea level; Yunga, 500-2300 meters; Queshwa, 2300-3500 meters; Suni or Jalca, 3500-4100 
meters; Puna, 4100-4800; Junca, 4800- 6768; Ceja de selva or rupa-rupa, 1500-3600; Selva (alta)1000-
 1500 m, (baja):  80-400 m    (21-26).
 10
  One of the examples cited by Murra involves a small ethnic group (20,000 people) living in 
Chaupiwaranqa, in the region of the high Mara??n and Huallaga. Colonial documents reveal that while 
the group?s population and political center was located in the towns of Ichu, Marcahuasi and Paucar, 
permanent representatives from the ?nuclear community? tended the group?s camelids and processed salt 
on the puna (located three days journey up from the ?nuclear? towns) (ibid. 91). Usually the population 
center of an ethnic group was located at an altitude that allowed farmers to journey up to tend their 
primary tuber fields and return home the same day. Ideally, the location of the ?home base? would also 
allow farmers to journey down to tend their corn fields and return home in the same day (ibid. 90).  Other 
representatives of the ethnic group planted, tended and harvested agricultural fields of uchu, squash, 
sweet potatoes, cacao, beans, cotton and peanuts that were located two, three, or four days journey below
 the primary population center (ibid. 88). At an altitude slightly lower than these agricultural fields the 
community assigned members responsible for collecting honey and harvesting wood (used by a 
?q?erukamayoq? to elaborate plates, cups and other household essentials) (ibid. 93). Other larger ethnic 
groups maintained access to coastal islands where they could obtain seabird droppings for use as guanu-
 fertilizer for their crops. Murra insists that all of these ecological niches were maintained, ?sin ejercer 
mayor sobernan?a en los territorios intermedios? (ibid. 87). He asserts that an ethnic group?s 
representatives working in these ?periphery communities? retained full rights within the ?nucleus 
community? (ibid. 93).
 11
  In Comentarios Reales Garcilaso describes the Incan philosophy behind the transplanting of entire 
communities. He explains:  ??cuando hab?an conquistado alguna provincia belicosa de quien se tem?a 
que, por estar lejos del Cuzco y por ser de gente feroz y brava, no hab?a de ser leal ni hab?a de querer 
servir en buena paz. Entonces sacaban parte de la gente de aquella tal provincia, y muchas veces la 
sacavan toda, y la pasaban a otra provincia de las dom?sticas, donde, vi?ndose por todas partes rodeados 
de vasallos leales y pac?ficos, procurasen ellos tambi?n ser leales. . .? (bk. IV ch. II).
 12
  The Incan institution of the mitmaq required each household (adult couple) to pay tribute through the 
man?s work on a state project that was often located at quite a distance from his home, ?de esta manera, 
llamaban m?tmac, as? a los que llevaban como a los que tra?an:  quiere decir:  trasplantados o 
advenedizos, que todo es uno? (Garcilaso bk. IV ch. II). 
89
 13
  See Carlos Assadourian?s essays (1982) for an in-depth discussion of the complexities and the 
coercive nature of the political economy of the colonial Andes. 
14
  See L. Schenone for an extended discussion of this practice, including the obligatory cooking 
classes forced on African American and Indian girls in the U.S. during the nineteenth and 
twentieth centuries. These gastronomical lessons were part of an effort to strip the women and 
girls of their ?cultures, religions, tribal educations, and loyalties? (253-254). 
15
  Here Weismantel is referring to Pierre Bourdieu?s concept of doxa, ?that which is taken for granted? 
the theses implied in a particular way of living? (Bourdieu Outline 166, 168).  
16
  During the annual Inti Raymi festival in Cuzco, thousands of tourists and Cuzque?os perch atop the 
rocks overlooking Sacsayhuaman and enjoy picnic lunches. While waiting for ?the Inca? and his 
entourage to arrive for the festivities I noticed that a Quechua couple from Ocongate seated beside me 
were pleased to accept a lunch of rice and chicken offered to them by a family of Cuzque?os perched 
near us. After finishing two very generous portions, however, the woman from Ocongate pulled out a 
small satchel of boiled potatoes and offered them to all. When the Cuzque?os joked that this was an odd 
dessert, the Quechua woman very seriously replied that while they had enjoyed the rice and chicken, 
they had been waiting atop the rocks since the bitter cold of the early morning and that they needed to eat 
some potatoes to give them strength for their long, return trip home that evening.   
17
  See Marisol de la Cadena?s important study of the fluid and highly complex identity politics in the 
Andean city of Cuzco.
 18Chapter two of this dissertation presents an analysis of the collision of two vastly different food 
regimes (those of sixteenth century Spain and Tahuantinsuyu) as related in the Inca Garcilaso?s 
Comentarios Reales. Garcilaso describes the traumatic processes of Andean and Iberian adaptations, 
rejections and interpretations of the new foodstuffs they explore and consume (with varying degrees of 
enthusiasm and/or disgust). 
19
  For more discussion and examples of the ways in which the ch?iri wayra or ?ill wind? affects runa see 
Paul Gelles 70, 163 (as well as the other authors he cites in this context).
 20
  See Regina Harrison for a detailed study of the link between cold, wetness and death, as evident in 
Andean popular medicine both during colonial times (as seen in Diego Gonz?lez Holgu?n?s dictionary 
entries) and in the present (made evident by the analysis of a contemporary Quechua song from Ecuador) 
(Signs, Songs, and Memories 111-113). See also Juan Ossio (1988) for a discussion of Andean beliefs 
related to sickness and the balance of warmth and cold. (Note, however, that in this study, Ossio?s use of 
the Quechua rupay to designate the ?warm? half of this dichotomy is imprecise, since Quechua speakers 
only use ?rupay? to refer to the sun?s warmth. The property of ?warmth? in food, beverages and plants is 
always referred to as ?q?oni?, as is the heat given off by the kitchen stove or a bonfire.)   
21
  Balance did not, however, translate to a veneration of pairs in nature. For example, humans and papas 
were supposed to enter the world alone, so that the harvest of two tubers joined together, or the birth of 
twins were both considered dangerous omens. Similarly, a cob of maize containing uneven lines of 
kernels was also thought to bring bad luck:  ?Del ag?ero que en cada a?o lo tienen, cuando coxen mas o 
papas, ocas que nasen dos juntos, masorcas o dos papas juntos . . . Dizen que es muy mala se?al que an 
de murir y acauar . . . (Guaman Poma 1: 256; see also Solomon and Urioste 17). For a more detailed 
discussion of the importance of symmetry and balance in Quechua cultural categories and poetry see 
Harrison Signs, Songs, and Memories 49-52, 159.
 22
  See Vokral, for a detailed study of the importance of balancing warm-q?o?i and cold- ch?iri in Andean 
(Quechua and Aymara) cuisine.
 23
  The chorus of this contemporary song taped by the author in July, 2001, recalls a song described by 
Guaman Poma as having been sung by llamamiches (camelid shepards) every May in pre-colonial times:  
?Llamaya, llamaya, yn, yalla, llamaya? (Guaman Poma de Ayala 1: 219). 
24 In contemporary Per? the papa remains without a doubt, the most important food staple for the 
majority of the population. The 1972 ?Encuesta Nacional de Consumo de Alimentos? indicated that in 
the capital city of Lima, eleven kilos per person are consumed on a monthly basis, while in rural 
highland regions that number more than doubles to twenty eight kilos per month. A typical family in the 
rural sierra consumes one hundred and eighty one kilos per year, which means that the papa makes up 
90
 more than 70 percent of their total food intake (Amat 59). While the papa is a nutritionally balanced 
food, this overwhelming dependence on one foodstuff obviously reveals the limitations for subsistence 
farmers of this region. It also suggests the need for the implementation of poverty reduction plans, as 
well as the reintroduction of other nutritionally and economically viable highland products. Some of 
these agricultural and nutrition programs implemented by the Peruvian government and international 
NGOs in the past several years will be discussed in this dissertation?s conclusion.
 25
  A paper published by the National Academy of Sciences in October 2005 reports the findings of David 
Spooner, a research botanist whose genetic analyses of wild species of papa point to a single point of 
origin for the tubers? cultivation to the north of Lake Titicaca, approximately 7000 years ago. Spooner 
argues that all modern day varieties originated from a wild species known as the Solanum brevicaule
 complex, thus contesting the ?multiple origins? argument (CIP). Various Peruvian tabloids quickly 
published their versions of this scientific study under headlines that pointed to the findings as a ?victory 
over the Chileans? who were accused of trying to ?claim the papa as their own?.
 26 In the late sixteenth century when Garcilaso is writing, the Peruvian papa (which later became the 
world?s fourth most important food staple, after wheat, rice and maize) was still unknown on the Iberian 
peninsula (bk. VIII ch. IX). He does indicate, however, that at least one variety of Peruvian corn known 
as muruchu, was already cultivated in Spain (ibid.).
 27 A medium-sized papa contains only ninety calories, but it also boasts more vegetable protein and 
double the calcium as compared to a similar serving of maize. One papa delivers half of the U.S. Food 
and Drug Administration?s ?Recommended Daily Allowance? (RDA) of vitamin C for an adult (whereas 
both wheat and rice lack this vitamin completely). The papa is also rich in vitamin B, iron, magnesium, 
potassium and a healthy balance of amino acids (Centro International de la Papa-CIP).  
28
  Harrison cites sources indicating that the papa?s status as a root, as well as its ?white or flesh-colored 
nodules on its underground stems? as reasons for why it provoked suspicion among the European masses 
(Signs, Songs, and Memories 177-178). Also, as Jules Michelet points out, female healers in medieval 
Europe frequently utilized plants belonging to the papa?s Solanaceas genus for the preparation of 
numbing poultices and remedies for patients suffering from painful skin diseases such as leprosy (123-
 124). These female healers were frequently denounced as witches by the Church and sentenced to death. 
29
  Curiously, in Argentina the papa was first introduced as a luxury item for the rich, since papas cost as 
much as meat throughout the country in the early nineteenth century (Fern?ndez-Armesto 127). By 1913 
papas cost twelve cents per kilo compared to beef?s fifty-five or sixty cents per kilo and only at this point 
could the poor begin to integrate the Andean tubers into their cooking pots (ibid.). 
30 The Peruvian government?s department of agriculture indicates that the papa: ?es el principal cultivo 
del pa?s en superficie sembrada y representa el 25% del PBI [GDP] agropecuario. Es la base de la 
alimentaci?n de la zona andina y es producido por 600 mil peque?as unidades agrarias. Las variedades 
de  mayor calidad se producen sobre los 3,000 m.s.n.m.? (Portal Agrario).
 31
  See Harrison (1989) for a detailed study of the cultural and literary significance of the papa in 
Quechua society and ethnopoetics. Denise Arnold and de Juan de Dios Yapita?s 1996 anthology presents 
Aymara oral texts and interviews related to papa ?tales of origin?, categorization, preparation and 
cultivation strategies and medicinal uses. While this anthology does not provide the detailed literary 
analyses offered by Harrison, it does carefully record contextual and personal information related to the 
tales? themes and narrators, along with these narrators? explanations of their own oral texts.
 32
  In this celebratory harawiy transcribed by Guaman Poma and dedicated to ?Ylla sara? and ?Ylla 
mama?, the Quechua chronicler translates these invocations as ?ma?z m?gico? and ?Madre m?gica? 
respectively. Following the above discussion of the concept of illa (56-58), I have chosen to gloss ?Ylla 
sara? as ?corn animator? and ?Ylla mama? as ?animating mama? in order to reflect idea of ?life giving 
essence? which the word ylla connotes.
 33
  The words maize and ma?z are likely derived from either the Arawak marise or the mahiz of an 
Antillean language (or perhaps from a combination of the two)-- in Quechua the word is sara (Cabieses 
Cien Siglos 142). The English corn is actually a general term for any grain and usually denotes the most 
important crop of a certain region. Therefore historically, the word corn has been used to refer to wheat 
in England, oats in Ireland or Scotland and wheat or barley in various English language translation of the 
Bible (Gibson and Berson).
91
 34 See also Valdiz?n and Maldonado for a list of the varieties of maize cultivated in the Cuzco region 
and the diverse Quechua lexicon associated with each different type of maize and the food or beverage 
made from it.  
35
  Murra argues quite convincingly, that in the Incan epoch tubers and maize were not only agricultural 
products of two different climactic zones, but that they required two different agricultural systems (151). 
While the papa was a product of high altitude, community based, subsistence farming, maize remained a 
mild climate product, grown primarily for religious and celebratory uses. Its growth on any sort of large 
scale in the highlands only became possible with the rise of a large state apparatus that could organize 
the construction and administration of terraces, irrigation and the long distance transport of guano 
fertilizer necessary for its successful cultivation (ibid). Murra maintains, ?En contraste con el cultivo por 
los campesinos de tub?rculos para el sustento, el ma?z en tiempo de los inka fue un cultivo estatal? 
(ibid.).
 36
  See Fern?ndez-Armesto (48-49) for a discussion of the elevated instances of pellagra suffered in poor, 
urban black communities (which depended on corn flour for their main food staple) in the early twentieth 
century U.S.
 37
  As it must have occasionally proved impossible to access the ?accompanying foods? necessary for 
supplementing the maize-eater with key nutrients, both Mesoamerican and Peruvian cooks discovered 
that by boiling ripe corn cobs with either lime or ash (either wood or from the quinua stalk), the 
transparent skin on the kernel was removed, thus releasing certain otherwise absent amino acids and 
enhancing the grain?s protein value (Fern?ndez-Armesto 94).
 38
  On the other hand, it appears that by the end of the eighteenth century, Italian peasants had begun to 
appreciate the benefits of maize. An Italian agronomist living near Rimini comments: 
Now my children if you had met in the year 1715, which the old folks have always called the 
year of the famine, when this foodstuff [maize] was not yet used, then you would have seen 
poor families of peasants go off in winter to feed on the roots of grass? Finally it pleased God 
to introduce this foodstuff, here and everywhere. If there are years with little wheat, the peasants 
can use a food which is basically good and nourishing; and moreover by the grace of God 
people are beginning to sow certain foreign roots like white truffles, which are called potatoes 
(and I want to introduce them, here). (ctd. in Fern?ndez-Armesto 178)
 39 In the valley of central M?xico the quinua plant is called by its Nahuatl name Huauzontle, although the 
Aztecs only used it as a green, leafy vegetable (Mujica ?Quinua?). Huauzontle capeado continues to be 
served in towns throughout central M?xico and it inevitably appears on the menus of upscale restaurants 
in M?xico D.F. specializing in ?la nueva cocina mexicana?.
 40 At least for now, quinua?s yield in such regions is significantly lower, a limitation that has prevented 
the spread of its cultivation in the U.S. beyond experimental projects in Colorado, Minnesota and 
Wisconsin (Oekle et. al.).   
41
  Cobo concurs with Garcilaso?s description of the importance of aj? both amongst the indigenous 
inhabitants of the New World and the Spanish, who quickly came to appreciate its flavor both in the 
Americas and back in Europe, where its cultivation flourished by the early seventeenth century (1: bk. IV 
ch. XXV). Cobo praises both the Peruvian aj? and its larger, less fiery cousin the rocoto affirming, ?es el 
aj? tan regalada y apetitosa salsa para los indios, que con ?l cualquiera cosa comen bien aunque sean 
yerbas silvestres y amargas? (1: bk. IV ch. XXV).
 42
  The origin of aj? (or chile as it is called in Mesoamerica) maize, tomate, bean and vanilla cultivation 
still remains a polemic amongst paleobotanists. Whether these important New World products first 
appeared in the Andes or in Mesoamerica seems almost impossible to determine; their cultivation began 
so many centuries ago in both regions that eventually locating an ?original? wild species of any of these 
crops remains highly unlikely (Cabieses Cien Siglos 158, 164, 88).  
43
  The most commonly used varieties of uchu in Quechua cuisine include:  rocoto-uchu, asnacc-uchu (aj? 
oloroso), mucuru-uchu (small and potent, aj? de pajarito), puka-uchu (aj? colorado, when dried aj? panca), 
q?ello-uchu (aj? amarillo, when dried, aj? mirasol).
92
 44
  This section follows Christine Hastorf?s definition of luxury foods as ?food that is rare and/or exotic? 
[or] abundant and presented in a special feasting context? (546).
 45
  As Hastorf points out, ?meat, not consumed on a regular basis, is important in feasts. Like beer 
[chicha], it identifies an event as important, making it luxurious? (546).
 46
  In addition to Morales? study, see also Bolton and Calvin for a detailed account of the ritual and 
symbolic importance of raising, preparing and consuming cuy within contemporary Quechua 
communities of rural, Southern Per?.
93
 Chapter II:  
The Quechua Food-universe in Tahuantinsuyu and Colonial Per?:    
    A Vehicle for Religious Expression and Oppositional Tactics
 The rapid fifteenth-century expansion of Incan domination throughout Western 
South America is one of the great imperial success stories in the history of the world. In 
less than a century, what appears to have been just one of many bellicose ethnic groups 
from Southern Per?, managed to extend its territory and political, economic and 
cultural influence in a dramatic fashion. Reaching out from its political center in the 
city of Cuzco, the Incan empire came to encompass parts of present-day Ecuador, 
Bolivia, northern Chile, southern Colombia and Northwest Argentina, eventually 
totaling more than 906,500 sq km and including such varied terrains as high altitude 
grassy plateaus, low-lying jungles, deserts, coastlines and fertile river valleys (Murra 
La organizaci?n econ?mica 57-82). Colonial chroniclers such as Crist?bal de Molina, 
Inca Garcilaso de la Vega, Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, Juan de Betanzos and many 
others allow us to peer into select windows of the Incan world. The chroniclers? 
manuscripts provide detailed accounts of Incan imperial regulations for their subjects, 
the organizing principles of Andean agriculture and pastoralism, as well as colorful 
descriptions of religious, domestic and warfare practices.  
For an empire whose strength and well-being depended so heavily on abundant, 
reliable harvests and healthy herds, it should come as no surprise that many Incan 
religious practices and beliefs revolved around a constant preoccupation with the 
relationship between humans and the forces of nature which affected imperial food 
94
 production. Guaman Poma highlights this point in an amusing fashion in his drawing of 
Huayna Capac?s encounter with a Spaniard. The Andean chronicler represents Huayna 
Capac?s observation of the Spaniards? insatiable hunger for gold and his assumption 
(by no means illogical) that such a voracious appetite for the gleaming metal could only 
be explained by the fact that the Spaniards can in fact eat gold. This hypothesis leads 
the dignified looking Inca to ask the Spaniard kneeling before him, ?Kay quritachu 
mikhunki? [Do you eat this gold?] to which the oafish looking Spaniard with his vacant 
expression replies, ?este oro comemos? [we eat this gold] (2: 342-343). The Inca?s 
logic reflects the fact that food, not gold, was the most prized commodity in 
Tahuantinsuyu.1  The health of the crops and herds directly affected the health of their 
human caretakers and the sun god Inti was chief among the deities whom the Incas 
sought to satisfy in their never-ending task of maintaining friendly relations between 
humans and nature. As the son of the Sun on earth, the Inca king served as a mediator 
between the awesome powers of nature and the needs of its human subjects. Hostile 
enemies and weather, failed crops, sick animals, diseased humans, misplaced or stolen 
valuables and bad luck in general were attributed to angry nature deities whose 
generosity had not been fully appreciated and who now sought retribution for such 
human arrogance and neglect. 
Food as a Vehicle for Religious Communication and Expression in 
Tahuantinsuyu:  
It should come as no surprise then, that in the Incan worldview, sickness, death 
and food were inextricably and unavoidably linked. The Incas -- and indeed many 
95
 Andean peoples-- believed that their ancestors controlled all resources; therefore 
placating, respecting and feeding the ancestors became a vital aspect of many religious 
rituals. In this way, special rituals involving food played a key role in maintaining 
balance within the Incan spiritual, political and economic worlds (Hastorf 546). When 
the deities felt wronged they would punish humans by showering down sickness and 
disease upon corn and papa seedlings, llamas, alpacas and runa men, women and 
children. Ten of the twelve hymns transcribed by the chronicler Crist?bal de Molina in 
his Relaci?n de las f?bulas y mitos de los Incas, repeatedly link the Incan 
preoccupation with increased food crops and human and animal fertility with their fear 
of lethal enemies, weather, disease and other hazardous dangers (including darkness, 
loneliness and malevolent witchcraft). A closer look at Father Molina?s Relaci?n
 reveals even more evidence pointing towards the intimate connection between food and 
death and the ways in which this connection influenced Incan religious practices and 
beliefs. 
Ritual Meals and Food Sacrifices in Tahuantinsuyu
 In the year 1564 Crist?bal de Molina (el Cuzque?o)2 accepted the position of 
parish priest of the Hospital de los Naturales where he became a noted lenguaraz--
 proficient in the native language of Quechua. His knowledge of the indigenous 
language and culture undoubtedly contributed to the Viceroy Francisco de Toledo?s 
decision to appoint Father Molina as a visitador general in the year 1569 (Molina 
Fabulas y mitos de los Incas 12).3 It seems likely that while carrying out his duties as 
visitador, Father Molina collected much of the detailed information regarding the Incan 
myths, laws and rituals which he later included in his Relaci?n de las f?bulas y mitos 
96
 de los Incas.  He wrote the Relaci?n (as well as the now missing Historia de los Incas) 
in the year 1573 in response to a request by the newly arrived bishop Sebasti?n de 
Larta?n. According to Father Molina?s dedication of the text to Larta?n in the opening 
pages of the Relaci?n, the bishop had requested the compilation of the manuscript in 
order to better understand ?(el) origen, vida y costumbres de los Ingas . . . las 
ceremonias, cultos y ydolatr?as que estos indios tuvieron? (ibid. 15, 49).
 The majority of the Relaci?n consists of a description of Incan religious rituals 
and ceremonies, organized in accordance with the pre-conquest Imperial calendar, 
beginning in the month of May with the solar festival of Inti Raymi. One of the most 
interesting sections of the manuscript describes the month of August, or Coyaraymi, 
when the Incas celebrated the festival of ?itua (ibid. 73). Father Molina describes the 
festival in the following manner: 
. . . para hacer la dicha fiesta trayan las figuras de las huacas de toda la tierra de Quito a 
Chile, las quales pon?an en sus casas en el Cuzco . . . La raz?n porque ac?an esta fiesta 
llamada ?itua en este mes, es porque entonces comen?auan las aguas y con las 
primeras aguas suele aver muchas enfermedades, para rogar al Hacedor que en aquel 
a?o en el Cuzco como en todo lo conquistado del Ynca, tuviese por bien no las ubiese, 
para lo qual hac?an lo siguiente: el d?a de la conjunci?n de la Luna, a mediod?a yba el 
Ynca con todas las personas de su consejo . . . a Curicancha que es a la Casa del Sol . . 
. el sacerdote mayor dec?a a las jentes que estavan juntos . . . y que se hechasen todas 
las enfermedades y males de la tierra . . . Y as?a con este acuerdo, aviendo primero 
hechado del Cuzco a dos leguas d?l a todos los forasteros que no heran naturales y a 
todos los que ten?an las orejas quebradas, y a todos los corcovados y que ten?an alguna 
lesi?n y defeto en sus personas, diciendo que no se hallasen en aquellas fiestas porque 
por sus culpas heran as? hechos . . . (ibid. 73-74)4
 Father Molina goes on to describe the elaborate preparation and consumption of the 
sacred bread called Yawar?anco (literally, blood bread), citing the prayers offered 
during this communion.5 It was considered a sin to let even one small crumb of the 
Yawar?anco fall to the ground and according to Father Molina, the Incan priests 
explicitly warned the people to carefully consider their acceptance of the sacred bread 
97
 cautioning, ?Mira como com?is este ?anco, porque el que lo comiere en pecado y con 
dos voluntades y cora?ones, el Sol, nuestro padre, lo ver? y lo castigar? y ser? para 
grandes travajos vuestros? (ibid. 80). On the other hand, Incan priests assured those 
with a clear conscience that by eating the ?anco ?el Hacedor y el Sol y el Trueno os lo 
gratificar?n y os dar?n hijos y felices a?os y que teng?is mucha comida y todo lo dem?s 
necessario con prosperidad? (ibid.).6 Thus, the consumption of Yawar?anco during the 
Incan festival of ?itua serves as an example of Barthes? notion of food as ?. . . a system 
of communication, a body of images, a protocol of usages, situations, and behavior? 
(Barthes 21-22). As Goody points out, ?In all societies the intake of food, the eating 
itself, has some collective aspects, especially at festivals where the consumption of 
larger quantities and often of special foods takes place in a communal situation? (206). 
This collective aspect of food intake also played an important role in Incan ritual, as 
men, women and children partook of the sacred bread together with their neighbors and 
even carefully tucked away portions for relatives whose illness prevented them from
 attending the festival, ?porque se ten?a por muy desdichado el que este d?a no alcan?ava 
a recevir el yahuar?anco? (Molina F?bulas y mitos 80). 
In Tahuantinsuyu, the ?sacredness? of certain foods consumed during religious 
rituals was determined by the identity of the elite and specially trained cook who 
prepared it. El Inca Garcilaso also takes great pains to describe the elaborate ritual 
preparation of the sacred bread and he explains that the Inca king could only consume 
yahuar?anco prepared by the aqllas. Often referred to as ?the virgins of the Sun?, aqllas 
were beautiful maidens chosen from a young age to serve as prized domestic servants 
to the Incan Empire.7 The most beautiful young women were reserved for the Inca 
98
 himself, while others were given to Inca nobleman, or gifted to other important leaders 
throughout the empire in an effort to cement alliances. Conquered groups were 
expected to send their most beautiful women to the aqllawasi in the capital city of 
Cuzco, or to one of the smaller aqllawasis located throughout the provinces. 
The aqllas lived in a special temple adjacent to the Inca?s personal quarters in 
the center of Cuzco and spent their days weaving and preparing special ritual meals for 
the Inca. As Guaman Poma tells us, ?U?rgenes aclla de los Yngas. Qu?stos eran 
hermosas y le serb?an a los Yngas, eran donzellas. Qu?stas tex?an rropa y hac?an chicha 
y hac?an las comidas y no pecauan (1: 274). Father Bernab? Cobo claims that the aqllas 
were responsible for brewing:  ?cantidad de chichas regaladas para ofrecer a los dioses 
y para que bebiesen su sacerdotes, y guisaban cada d?a los manjares que ofrec?an en 
sacrificio? diciendo:  <<Como, sol, esto que te han guisado tus mujeres >>? (Cobo 2: 
bk. XIII ch. XXXVII). In his description the aqlla institution Pizarro explains:
 Hab?an V?rgenes del Sol blancas, muy hermosas llamadas Yuracs Acllas, 
consagradas especialmente al Hacedor; viv?an enclaustradas dedic?ndose a 
preparar los alimentos ofrecidos al Inti y a sus numerosos sacerdotes. Ofrec?an 
ellas los manjares, diciendo:  ?Come oh sol, esto te han guisado tus mujeres?. 
(qtd. in Prieto de Zegarra 84-86)8
 Although it seems likely that in their prestigious role as ?royal cooks? and ?concubines? 
the aqllas might have been able to secure privileged treatment for their family members 
of influence the decisions of Incan leaders, colonial chroniclers do not provide us with 
enough information to know for certain. In any case, the aqllas can be considered as 
?inside cooks? (as described in the introduction), since they were required to cook food 
for the Inca king and his nobleman and were not allowed to choose their own clients or 
market their culinary knowledge outside the confines of the aqllawasi.
99
 The day before the ?itua festival was declared a day of fasting. While the Inca 
concentrated his energies on selecting the appropriate camelids for the next day?s 
sacrifice, ?las mujeres del Sol entend?an aquella noche en hacer grand?sima cantidad de 
una masa de ma?z que llaman zancu? (Garcilaso bk. VI ch. XXI). While only the Inca 
would consume the yahuar?anco prepared by the aqllas, ?el pan, aunque era para la 
comunidad, se hac?a con atenci?n y cuidado de que a lo menos la harina la tuviesen 
hecha doncellas porque este pan lo ten?an por cosa sagrada, no permitido comerse entre 
a?o, sino solo esta festividad . . .? (ibid.). The sacred bread was also distributed to 
provincial deities and curacas throughout the Andes, as Polo de Ondegardo relates:  
?During the entire month in which Situa was celebrated, mamaconas distributed bits of 
holy bread to the ?foreigners??those of non-Inca origin--  . . . [taking] holy bread to 
other provincial deities and ayllu headmen throughout the Andes (qtd. in Silverblatt 
Moon, Sun, and Witches 105).
 During the ?itua festival the rituals surrounding the preparation and distribution 
of the yahuar?anco reinforced the supremacy of the Inca, while concomitantly 
demonstrating his benevolence; all citizens of Tahuantinsuyu needed to revitalize their 
health in order to ensure the empire?s success, thus all were expected to partake in this 
sacred nourishment. As the philosopher and sociologist Thelamon underscores, 
throughout history and in many different societies, extravagant banquets have often 
served as a:  ?. . . mise en sc?ne du repas hi?rarchique, o? chacun a la part et la place 
qui conviennent ? son range, [et qui] exprime, le plus souvent de fa?on spectaculaire, 
les structures hi?rarchiques et les relacions de pouvoir, en m?me temps qu?elle est 
ostention des richesses? (12). In Tahuantinsuyu as well, the ?itua feast reinforced Incan 
100
 power hierarchies, for even though all inhabitants of the empire consumed the ritual 
bread, the Inca?s portion was prepared with special care by the Cuzco aqllas.
 Although the yahuar?anco was the most important ritual food consumed at the 
?itua festival, llamas--referred to as either ganado or carneros by Father Molina-- were 
also sacrificed so that their innards might be extracted and analyzed by trained diviners, 
in hopes of recognizing signs of prosperity for the coming year. In many societies 
devotion to supernatural powers is communicated through sacrifices of food, since this 
is humankind?s most fundamental resource (Armelagos and Farb 125). Meat is often 
the sacrificial food of choice; humans appear to send their gods a message indicating 
that although the surrender of these protein-laden calories cannot really be afforded, 
?their loss will be overcome by the even greater benefits to be obtained from the 
supernatural? (ibid.). After dedicating the sacrificed bodies of the llamas to Inti during 
the ?itua festival, each Incan subject entered the plaza and received a small bit of the 
animal?s meat. Guaman Poma claims that:
 para comer o para la serimonia matauan a los carneros. Le abr?an del coras?n 
que es la ley de los hicheseros yd?ltras porque dec?a el moso el biejo:  ?Suncus 
caynam, yaya. Uanun. Allim, churi, casun. Yauar zancucta, chaua yauarta 
micunquichic, churi [?Padre, dicen que el coraz?n es as?. Ya muri?. Vamos a 
estar muy bien, hijo. Deber?n comer la sangre coagulada, la sangre cruda?]. (2: 
827)
 Here we can clearly see how the sacrificed body of the llama becomes both a food and 
a medium of communication between humans and deities. The heart of the sacrificed 
llama is read by a watuq-- trained diviner who interprets the message of the deity with 
regards to the future prosperity of the empire.9 If the deity?s appetite has been properly 
satiated the news will likely be positive, otherwise the angry god must be fed again.   
101
 Feeding the Ancestors in Tahuantinsuyu
 The importance of food in Incan religious rituals was not limited to feasts 
provided for nature deities and loyal imperial subjects, since the Inca kings also 
organized elaborate feasts hosted in honor of their dead ancestors.10 The Incas, 
however, did not content themselves with mere symbolic representations of the dead, 
but instead organized a ritual exhumation of their deceased in order to invite them to sit 
as esteemed guests at the table of the ?itua feast.  Father Molina describes the Incan 
ritual:
 Y asimismo sacavan los cuerpos de los se?ores y se?oras muertos que estavan 
enbalsamados, los quales sacavan las personas de su linaje que a cargo los 
ten?an y aquella noche los lavavan en sus ba?os que quando estava vivo cada 
uno ten?a, y bueltos a sus casas los calentavan con ?anco . . . y luego les pon?an 
delante las comidas que quando ellos heran vivos con m?s gusto com?an y 
usavan las quales les pon?an muy bien . . .  y luego las personas que ten?an a 
cargo los dichos muertos, las quemavan. (Molina F?bulas y mitos 77)
 The Incas seem to have agreed with the frequently repeated notion, ?Le repas, c?est la 
recontre, la communication, l??change, le partage, voire la confrontation des passions? 
(Lemenorel 363). Thus, the practice of inviting deceased ancestors to the dinner table 
strengthened the spiritual connection between the living and the dead and reaffirmed 
mutual ties of loyalty.11
 Guaman Poma refers to the month of November as Aya Marcay Quilla [mes de 
llevar difuntos] and explains: 
en este mes sacan los defuntos de sus b?bedas que llaman pucullo y le dan de 
comer y de ueuer y les bisten de sus bestidos rricos  . . . y cantan y dansan con 
ellos . . . y andan con ellas en casa en casa y por las calles y por la plasa y 
despu?s tornan a metella en sus pucullos. (1: 231)12
102
 The exhumation ceremony clearly focused much energy on the honoring of the dead 
and the expression of gratitude for the protection against misfortune offered by the 
mummies. The chronicler Cieza de Le?n points out that another important element of 
this rite involved the gathering of the mummies together into the central plaza of Cuzco 
so that their attendants could ask about the future health of the crops, the Inca and the 
empire:  ?And if the Incas did not do this every year, they went about fearful and 
uneasy and didn?t hold their lives safe? (qtd. in Classen 92). While Incan mortuary 
beliefs did not include reincarnation, they did believe that ?virtuous individuals went to 
live with the Sun in the upper world ?Hanac Pacha?, while sinners went to the interior 
of the earth to suffer cold and hunger? (Kendall 95). For this reason, during burial rites 
relatives always took special care to ensure the comfortable accommodation of the 
deceased in the next world by burying them with the tools of their trade, pottery, 
baskets, jewelry and food (ibid.).
 While commoners only exhumed and fed their dead during occasional festivals 
specified by the ritual calendar, the mummies of Incan royalty received their own 
specially prepared meals (including aqlla-brewed chicha) on a daily basis. A deceased 
Inca king could enjoy these meals either symbiotically?through an attendant?s 
consumption of the food after having respectfully presented it to the mummy for 
inspection-- or by observing the meal as it burnt in sacrifice before him (Coe 220). As a 
result of this elaborate ancestor worship, Tahuantinsuyu?s economy faced a challenging 
obstacle; how to compensate for the stress on the storehouses by a constantly 
increasing population of deceased subjects who ravenously consumed food, drink and 
labor, but contributed no reciprocal assistance to the empire? The Incas would likely 
103
 argue that in order to ensure healthy food crops and camelid herds the ancestors must 
remain satiated. Nonetheless, many scholars have speculated that the drain on the 
economy caused by the immense expenditures lavished on the dead would have 
eventually collapsed the Inca state, regardless of the arrival of European conquerors 
(ibid.). 
Even before the expansion of the Inca Empire, food played an important role in 
the ritual lives of pre-colonial Andean cultures. In both the north-central highlands and 
the southern highlands, women presided over the cult of the Corn Mother (known in 
the regions respectively as Saramama and Mamayutas). It was the job of each 
community?s women to thank the goddess for her generative powers as both the Corn 
Mother and human mothers shared the quality of reproducers of life (Silverblatt Moon, 
Sun, and Witches 33-34).13 Under Imperial rule, however, Father Molina reports that 
conquered communities were required to accept the Incan origin myth which attributed 
the introduction of the sacred crop to Mama Huaco?s sowing of the first seeds of corn 
in the Valley of Cuzco (ibid. 67). In order to show proper respect and to give thanks to 
either Mama Huaco, Saramama or Mamayutas, it was the woman?s responsibility to 
cook for her goddess and to appease her with tasty offerings.14
 Under Incan rule, both women and food were considered as extremely valuable 
tribute items and conquered peoples were required to send their most precious women 
(to be dedicated to Inti as his aqllakuna) and food (high quality crops destined for 
sacrifice to Inti) to Cuzco. In addition to receiving sacred crops from the Inca for their 
own consumption, aqllakuna were also expected to prepare sacred food offerings for 
various Incan divinities. Conquered peoples who rebelled were required to send both 
104
 food and women to the Cuzco as reparations for their insubordination (ibid. 92). During 
celebrations such as the Capacocha festival, women and food were fatally joined as 
sacrificial prizes dedicated to Inti. In the aqllawasi of Cuzco as well as in those 
constructed throughout Tahuantinsuyu, the precious ?wives of the Sun? were allotted a 
generous portion of the sacred corn grown on the islands of Lake Titicaca. Garcilaso 
relates that the Incas:
 cog?an algunas mazorcas en poca cantidad, las cuales llevaban al Rey por cosa 
sagrada? y de ellas enviaba a las v?rgenes escogidas que estaban en el Cuzco y
 mandaba que se llevasen a otros conventos y templos que por el reino hab?a ? 
para que todos gozasen de aquel grano que era como tra?do del cielo. (bk. IV ch. 
I) 
 
Long before the arrival of the Spaniards then, women and food were symbolically 
linked throughout the Andes.
 Balancing Poetic Tone: Praise and Petition in Incaic Verse:
 In addition to presenting several Incan myths as well as detailed accounts of 
monthly rituals in Tahuantinsuyu, Father Molina?s Relaci?n de las f?bulas y mitos de 
los Incas also includes the transcription of twelve Quechua language texts which the 
chronicler describes as religious ?hymns? declaimed by Incan priests during the ?itua 
festival. Although Jes?s Lara?s study of Quechua poetry claims that one of the most 
commonly composed forms of Inca verse was the haylli, or ?sacred hymn?, Father 
Molina does not use this category to describe the texts which he has transcribed (La 
poes?a quechua 70). Since the word ?hymn? can be used to describe any religious text 
that is accompanied by music and performed during worship, in the following pages I 
will use this signifier to refer to the lyrical texts transcribed by Father Molina. Like 
105
 other forms of Inca verse and contemporary prayers, the verses of these hymns are all 
quite brief ?as Garcilaso recalls, ??los versos eran pocos, porque la memoria los 
guardase?--  and the meter and rhyme scheme do not seem to have followed any strict 
rules (ibid. 70; Garcilaso bk. II, ch. XXVII). Indeed, the fact that the Quechua language 
contains a large number of word-final suffixes and conjugation forms which end in 
with the same letters, means that while rhyming verses were quite common, they were 
not particularly noteworthy or valued  (ibid.).
 As mentioned above, the Incas considered the ?itua festival an integral event in 
their ritual calendar during which the Sun god Inti was praised for providing life-
 sustaining light and warmth during the previous year and then asked to continue to 
ensure the health and prosperity of the empire in the coming months. The Incaic verses 
transcribed by Father Molina in his Relaci?n also reflect these concerns. Only the first 
and the last texts concentrate on Wiraqocha?s location, powers and relationship to man, 
whereas the other ten consist of requests for increased food crops, fertility and conjugal 
contentment. The texts also implore for protection from hostile enemies and weather, 
disease, darkness, loneliness and malevolent witchcraft.15
 Prayers four, five, eight and eleven make specific petitions for Wiraqocha?s 
intervention in assuring that Andean flora and fauna continue to prosper, thus 
sustaining the alimentary needs of the empire?s human population and keeping them 
satiated and content. Father Molina?s transcription of the fifth ?itua prayer (?Otra 
Oraci?n?) reads as follows:
106
 Otra Oraci?n (Hymn five) Another Prayer
 O Wiraqochaya  Oh, dear Wiraqocha  (1)
 Teqse Wiraqochaya  Source of all origins, dear Wiraqocha
 Wallparillaq  skilled craftsman      
Kamaq, Churaq vitalizer16, creator                      
Kay hurin pachapi mikhuchun                               saying, ?in this lower world let there be              
uqyachun nispa                                  eating, drinking?                                         (5)
 Churasqaykiqta, kamasqaykiqta for those whom you have created, for those                       
                                     whom you have given life  
Mikhuynin yachachun papa sara   let their food increase, potatoes, maize 
Imaymana mikhunqan kachun                let there be unbounded food   
Nisqaykita-        so you have said to them-17
 kamachiq mirachiq                                          you possess the power to vitalize, 
                                                                                to multiply                          (10)
 Mana muchunqanpaq                may they not suffer from want 
Mana muchuspa qanta ininqanpaq may they be relieved from suffering and thus 
  have faith in you
 Ama qasachunchu, ama chikchichunchu let it not frost, let it not hail   
Qasilla waqaychamuy       keeping all in peace
 The first four lines of this hymn follow the same pattern as the other eleven 
transcribed by Father Molina, in that they focus on identifying the recipient of the 
thanks or supplication (Wiraqochaya) and then proceed to enumerate the praiseworthy 
exploits of the deity in question.18 As in many other genres of Quechua oral 
expression?particularly riddles and willakuy oral tales-- these hymns signal their 
beginning with a formulaic structure (in this case, a variation of O Wiraqochaya?). 
Frequently, the detailing of the deity?s positive qualities is followed by a citation of a 
benevolent promise or action which the deity bestowed upon the Incas at a previous 
date. An example of this tendency occurs in the fifth hymn ?Otra Oraci?n? in lines five 
through nine. The fifth line of the hymn concludes with the word nispa, thus signaling 
a direct quote from the deity.19 The prayer?s worshiper poet (most likely an Incan 
religious leader, since the hymns formed a part of the sacred ?itua festival) reminds 
107
 Wiraqocha that on a previous occasion the deity declared, ?let there be eating, 
drinking? (line 5). 
While in line four the worshiper poet simply announces Wiraqocha?s 
supernatural strengths as a ?kamaq? ?vitalizer,? and a ?churaq? ?creator?, in line six the 
same verbs are repeated in reverse order ?Churasqaykiqta, kamasqaykiqta?  with the 
intention of explicitly reminding the deity that ?you have created?, ?you have given 
life? and thus you are responsible for the well-being of your people. Indeed, in line 
seven the worshiper poet cites Wiraqocha?s previous declaration-- ?Mikhuynin 
yachachun?-- announcing an increase in food (specifically potatoes and maize), 
followed by the generous pronouncement, ?let there be unbounded food? (line 8). Line 
nine sternly pronounces, -- ?So you have said to them??, thus concluding this five line 
aide memoire embedded in the middle of the fifth ?itua hymn.  
After the almost threatening tone of the reminders contained in lines five 
through nine, by line ten the tone of the hymn?s worshiper poet returns to the 
obsequiousness of the first four. The prayer extols Wiraqocha--?you possess the power 
to vitalize, to multiply?-- as if to assure the deity that the Incas still clearly understand 
their position as lowly human subjects. The hymn then smoothly transitions to the 
humble supplications of lines eleven through fourteen:  ?may they not suffer from 
want?, ?may they be relieved from suffering?, ?may it not frost, may it not hail.? It is 
interesting to note that the hymn?s first direct supplication to the deity takes the form of 
the very general and all encompassing, ?may they not suffer from want?, ?may they be 
relieved from suffering? (lines 10, 11). The present translation of ?suffering? comes 
from the Quechua verb muchuy, defined by Gon?alez Holgu?n as ?padecer, tener falta, 
108
 o necessidad de algo, y sufrir trabajos.? The hymn then, asks that the people feel 
protected from any sense of need, lacking, want, or suffering?a tall order indeed. The 
worshiper poet of the hymn, however, presents a subtle yet convincing argument to the 
deity at the end of line twelve?if the people remain free from want, their energy can 
be concentrated on ?ininqanpaq?, literally, ?for believing in you?. In seeking to 
establish a divine barter, the hymn assures Wiraqocha that if the deity can manage to 
limit human suffering, the people shall, ?thus believe in you? (line 12). 
In all twelve of these hymns, the orator (or singer) waits to present the 
supplications of the people until the second half of the prayer, thus maintaining a 
careful balance between praise and petition. In hymn five for example, the supplication 
to Wiraqocha does not begin until lines eleven through fourteen when the orator 
constructs his requests (in lines eleven and twelve) with the adverbial negator ?mana? 
(Ar?oz and Salas 42-43). The use of ?mana?  indicates privation or lack, thus the broad 
requests of lines eleven and twelve actually ask for a world characterized by the 
absence of suffering (?Mana muchunqanpaq?, ?may they not suffer from want?). On 
the other hand, the more specific petitions in line thirteen??Ama qasachunchu, ama 
chikchichunchu? ?let it not frost, let it not hail?-- are expressed by means of the more 
direct adverbial negator ?ama?. ?Ama? signals a prohibition and often serves as an 
unofficial imperative form of sorts; [ama __ verb stem+ suffix ?chu], 
?Ama qasachunchu, ama chikchichunchu? (?let it not frost, let it not hail?) (line 13). 
This line (as well as line six in this same hymn) also displays the unique, Quechua 
poetic device known as semantic coupling wherein ?two lines that are otherwise 
identical morphologically and syntactically are bound together by the alternation of two 
109
 semantically related word-stems? (Mannheim The Language of the Inka 133-134).20 In 
this example, the only difference between the two otherwise identical phrases contained 
within line thirteen are the two verb stems ?qasay? ?to frost? and ?chikchiy? ?to hail?. In 
several of the hymns transcribed by Molina (hymn five: line thirteen; hymn four: line 
twelve), semantically coupled lines appear near the very end of the text, as if the poet 
has sought to create a soothing, conciliatory tone at the close of a somewhat 
confrontational song text.
 The worshiper poet citations of statements supposedly uttered by Wiraqocha in 
the past (lines five through nine) are formulated with the bluntest of Quechua?s 
command structures [verb stem+ suffix ?chu(n)]; for example, ?Mikhuynin 
yachachun? (?let their food increase?) (line 7). By presenting these commands in the 
guise of Wiraqocha?s previous statements, the anonymous orator cleverly utilizes the 
very forthright [-chu] command form without showing disrespect towards the creator 
deity. Although not implemented by the orator of this hymn, Quechua?s intricately 
nuanced agglutinating morphology does offer a speaker the option of adding the 
enclitic infix [-lla- ] to the direct [-chu] command form in order to soften a brusque 
demand. Instead, the orator of this hymn reserves the more deferential construction of 
the adverbial negator [mana + misfortune to be avoided] for his most important, 
sweeping request; an appeal for protection against hunger, suffering and want. The 
present translation of the fifth ?itua hymn attempts to register the subtle distinction 
between these three manners of formulating a petition. The English ?let? has been used 
as a gloss for the Quechua direct command form [-chu] and the prohibitive adverbial 
110
 negator ?ama?, while the more politely restrained ?may? stands in for Quechua?s 
?mana?. 
As mentioned above, prayers four, five, eight and eleven specifically request 
Wiraqocha?s aid in providing the Incan royalty and their people with physical 
sustenance. In the fourth hymn such requests enunciate general categories, 
?Mikhukuchu, uqyakuchun? [?let them eat?, ?let them drink?]. The other three hymns, 
however, more precisely enumerate their requests: ?Mikhuynin yachachun papa sara? 
[?let food increase, potatoes, corn?] (Hymn five: line 7); ?Pacha, chakra, runa, llama, 
mikhuy/pay kaptin yachakuchun? [?earth, fields, people, llamas, food21/wherever they 
exist, let them greatly increase?] (Hymn eight: line 7); ?mikhuyniyoq, minkhayoq, 
sarayoq, llamayoq/Imaynayoq, hayk?aynayoq? [a life filled ?with food, with helpers22, 
with maize, with llamas/with whatever is necessary, with however much is necessary?] 
(Hymn eleven: lines 12, 13). The tone of Hymn eight remains unflinchingly positive, 
asking that Wiraqocha ?lead them (?those you have infused with life?) by the hand? and 
?cooperate, acknowledge, take him (?the Inka king?) in your arms? (Hymn eight: lines 
6, 11-12).
 Otra Oraci?n (Hymn eight) Another Prayer 
Wiraqochaya dear Wiraqocha  (1)
 Walpay wana Wiraqochaya diligent worker23, dear Wiraqocha
 Runaqta qasi qespillaqta in peace and safety, the people, 
Qhapaq Inka churiyki warmaykipac the Inka king, your son, your adolescent child,
 Kamasqayki huacaychamuchun     watch over those you have infused with life  (5)
 Hatallimuchun lead them by the hand
 Pacha, chakra, runa, llama, mikhuy              earth, fields, people, llamas, food                     
Pay kaptin yachakuchun wherever they exist, let them greatly increase
 Qhapaq Inka kamasqaykiqta              the Inka king whom you have infused with life                     
Wiraqochaya Wiraqocha, (10)
 ayniy, hu?iy, reciprocate24, acknowledge,                                  
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 marq?ariy, hatalliy take him in your arms, by the hand
 Imay Pachakama Until whatever time or place 
Hymns four, five and eleven, however, explicitly mention many of the 
misfortunes which the Incan royalty fears and wishes to avoid. While Hymn five25 asks 
that Wiraqocha clear the skies of all frost and hail, Hymn four beseeches, ?Unay wata 
kawsachun? [?let them live long?] and ends with a semantic couplet of supplication, 
?Mikhukuchun, uqyakuchun? [?let them eat, let them drink?] (Hymn 4: lines 10, 12). 
Otra Oraci?n (Hymn four) Another Prayer
 O Wiraqochan Oh Wiraqocha
 Kusi usapuq hayllipu Wiraqochay? joyous, victorious, triumphant, dear Wiraqocha 
Runa khuya maywa tender compassion for the people?s pain
 Kaymi runa yana waqchiyki these people your orphans, servants    
Runayki kamasqayki churisqayki your people whom you have infused with life, 
                                                                 you have brought into the world                      (5) 
Qasi qespilla kakuchun let them be peaceful, free
 Warmaywan, churiwan with adolescents, with children
 Ch?in nanta    on the solitary path
 Ama watequintawan yuyachunchu let them not think deceitful temptations
 Unay wata kawsachun let them live long (10)
 Mana allwaspa, manana p?itispa nothing unfinished, nothing broken
 Mikhukuchun, uqyakuchun let them eat, let them drink
 While prayers four and five embed all mention of potential tragedy between 
praises of Wiraqocha?s strengths and calls for increased crops and herds, hymn eleven 
concludes with a more ominous tone, along with a fearful enumeration of the 
dangerous forces believed to exist within Tahuantinsuyu. The hymn ends with a 
desperate sounding plea:  ?ama kachariwaykuchu/imaymana, hayk?aymana/chikimanta 
hatunmanta, nak?asqa watusqa umusqamanta? [?may you not abandon us/in the midst 
of all manner of/grave dangers, pursued through the night-- / cursed and bewitched?] 
(Hymn 11: lines 14-16).
112
 Otra Oraci?n a todas las huacas (Hymn eleven)    Another Prayer for all Huacas
 O Pacha ch?ulla Wiraqocha                 Oh Wiraqocha, unmatched in the world  (1) 
Ukha ch?ulla Wiraqochan Wiraqocha, unmatched in the inner (world) 
Huaca willka kachun         saying, ?let there be huacas and willka?26
 Kamaq         infuser of life
 Hatun apu Great Lord  (5)                          
Wallpay wana diligent worker
 Tayna (a)llasto (a)llanto . . . Wiraqochaya --------- 27
 Hurin pacha, hanan pacha kachun nispa neq    saying, ?let there be a lower world, an 
                                                        upper world?
 Ukhupachapi puka umaqta  within the inner world
 Churaq hay niway, hu?iway                 creator, respond, consent (10)
 Qespi qasi kamusaq Wiraqochaya that I may live freely, peacefully                 
                                                                                   dear Wiraqocha                                     
Mikhuyniyoq, minkhayoq, sarayoq, llamayoq           with food, with helpers, with maize, 
                                                                                   with llamas
 Imaynayoq, hayk?aynayoq    with what ever is necessary, with however    
                                                         much is necessary
 Amakachariwaykuchu      may you not abandon us
 Imaymana, hayk?aymana amidst whatever, amidst however many (15)
 Chikmanta hatunmanta, nak?asqa,--                        grave dangers, pursued through the night--
  watusqa, umusqamanta cursed and bewitched28
 Pierre Duviols translates ?O Pacha ch?ulla Wiraqocha/ Ukha ch?ulla 
Wiraqochan? as, ?Oh Wiracocha, ?nico en el mundo/Wiraqocha, ?nico en el mundo 
interior?, thus coloring the first two lines of this hymn with a monotheistic tone (93). 
Gon??lez Holgu?n?s entry for ?chhulla?, however, is quite revealing: ?Una cosa sin 
compa?era entre cosas pareadas. Candelero, vinagera cossa desigual que no viene con 
otra o no corresponde en tama?o, o en proporci?n.? He then continues by illustrating 
the concept with several examples:   Chulla ?awi, ?El de un ojo no mas, o el tuerto?; 
chulla rinri, ?el de una oreja?; chulla churi or chulla huahua, ?el que no tiene mas 
hermanos.? Following Gon??lez Holgu?n?s lead, I have opted for ?unmatched? as a 
gloss for ?chhulla? as opposed to ?one and only?, which would have been the English 
version of Duviols? ??nico?. 
113
 John Rowe considers that lines one and two of this prayer are simply too 
distorted to even attempt a translation and instead refers to the initial lines as ?a series 
of incomprehensible titles? (94). Indeed Father Molina?s Declaraci?n does not include 
a translation of the first two lines and instead offers a fairly free translation beginning 
with line three?s reference to ?waka willka?. It seems, however, that one could translate 
?O pacha ch?ulla Wiraqocha? as ?Oh Wiraqocha, unmatched in the world? and that the 
notion of ch?ulla as something unmatched or without a pair seems a logical title for the 
great Wiraqocha deity. Harrison notes that the ?ch?ulla? appellation could also refer to 
the ungendered status of Wiraqocha as suggested in the visual representation of the 
deity in Pachacuti Yamqui?s Relaci?n de antig?edades deste reyno del Piru (personal 
communication).
 In order to understand the Quechua logic of the ?ch?ulla? appellation, it is also 
useful to consider the three variations of the Incan creation myth cited by Garcilaso in 
his Comentarios reales.29 The first version claims that the Incas descended from Manco 
C?pac and Mama Ocllo, the children of tayta Inti- father sun and mama quilla- mother 
moon who were sent to teach the savage humans how to properly farm, tend animals, 
weave and live in cities (Garcilaso 29-33). A second version of the creation myth 
identifies four men (Manco C?pac, Ayar Cachi, Ayar Uchu and Ayar Sauca) and four 
women (Mama Ocllo and three unnamed others) who emerged from the mountainside 
window in Paucartambo as the progenitors of the Incan people (ibid. 33-34). The final 
version of the Incas? origin tells the story of a solitary man who appeared in 
Tiahuanacu (near Lake Titicaca) and divided the world in four parts, giving one part to 
four different men whom he called kings. The solitary man called the first king Manco 
114
 C?pac and ordered him to walk northwards to the valley of Cuzco where he was told to 
build a city. The solitary man?s appearance at Tiahuanacu, the creation of Manco 
C?pac and the mandate leading to the construction of Cuzco sounds strikingly familiar 
to other accounts of the Wiraqocha deity (see note 12 above). Of all the deities in the 
three versions of the creation myth mentioned above, Wiraqocha is the only god
 without a partner, he is in this sense ch?ulla- unmatched, exceptional and perhaps for 
this reason, particularly powerful.  
In each of the three ?itua hymns (4,5,11) that mention both the need for food 
and for protection against certain dangers, the requests appear within close proximity of 
one another. In the case of hymn four, these requests are presented intermittently, as 
lines nine through twelve alternate between requests for protection against lethal forces 
and for the supply of life-sustaining nourishment. In hymn five, however, the orator 
first presents requests for food (lines 5,7,8) and then moves on to the detailing of 
potential tragedies (lines 11-13) if runa petitions should remain unanswered. Hymn 
eleven?s presentation of food and mortal dangers follows a similar sequence; an 
explanation of the crops and herds necessary for sustaining life (lines 12-13) is directly 
juxtaposed with a detailing of the harbingers of death which would result if Wiraqocha 
abandons his runa followers (lines 14-17). 
Within the lines of the hymns transcribed by Father Molina the abrupt 
transitioning between preoccupations with food and death stimulates the linkage of the 
two semantemes in the reader?s mind.30 The repeated association of these two themes 
in the ?itua hymns presented above is an important instance of a longstanding and 
widespread association of food and death within the Quechua worldview. The ritual 
115
 sacrifice of food crops and prized camelids, the careful preparation of sacred foods by 
specially trained aqlla cooks and the composition of ritual hymns which reinforce the 
notion of food as a life sustaining gift of the gods, are all important manifestations of 
the symbolic and ritual values attributed to food and its preparation and consumption 
within the Quechua food-universe of Tahuantinsuyu.
 Father Molina?s Transcription of Incaic Hymns and the Question of Authenticity
 As we have seen above, in his Relaci?n, Crist?bal de Molina records 
transcriptions and Spanish translations (Declaraci?nes) of twelve Quechua oraciones
 or himnos, which he describes as the prayers declaimed by Incan priests within the 
ritual context of ?itua. The debates regarding the ?authenticity? of these transcribed 
Incaic hymns are almost as extensive and varied as those focusing on the errors 
contained within the published copies of Father Molina?s manuscript. The master copy 
of the Relaci?n is housed in the Biblioteca Nacional de Madrid and is itself only an 
imperfect copy of the chronicler?s original, exacted by a scribe whose errors seem to 
indicate that he had little or perhaps no knowledge of the Quechua language. As Lara 
ruefully explains, ?[Dicha obra pas?] por manos de qui?n sabe cu?ntos amanuenses que 
no conoc?an el quechua ni pose?an un alfabeto adecuado para la escritura del idioma? 
(La poes?a quechua 73). 
The fact that a scribe not fluent in Quechua penned the only known copy of 
Father Molina?s manuscript has obviously led to a number of uncertainties with regards 
to various words and phrases contained within the hymns. Sections of hymns ten and 
twelve are illegible, words that should be separated are frequently strung into 
116
 ridiculously long compounds that must be pieced apart, while it seems likely that we 
will never uncover the meanings of certain indecipherable words. Could these terms 
refer to important religious expressions carefully guarded from the probing minds of 
colonial clergy, or are they simply ?nonsense words?, incorrectly transcribed by an 
ignorant hand? Lara pessimistically concludes that within the manuscript, ?. . . son 
pocas las palabras cuya integridad ha sido respetada; fracciones del todo ajenas entre s? 
aparecen unidas formando vocablos capaces de enloquecer a quien se atreva a descifrar 
su contenido? (ibid.). Perhaps this view is a bit exaggerated, though anyone attempting 
to translate or even read the Quechua hymns can easily understand his frustration. 
If such questions seem difficult to answer, attempts to establish the ?authentic? 
Incaic origin of the hymns may just well prove impossible. The first edition of the 
manuscript consists of Clements Markham?s English translation published in London in 
1873. Markham mentions the instances of incorrect transcriptions in the Madrid master 
copy, although he still presents the Quechua language hymns as ?the words of the 
prayers actually offered up by the Ynca Priests to their Deities? and the most ?valuable 
part of Molina?s report? (xiii-xviii). Markham declares that the hymns should be 
considered among the most important sources of information regarding pre-colombian 
literature and religious practices, along with the Pachacuti Yamqui manuscript (?by an 
Indian named Salcamayhua?), the Huarochir? manuscript (?a narrative of the false gods 
and other superstitions of the Indians?) and the ?Quichua drama of Ollanta . . . as old as 
the time of the Yncas . . .?(ibid.). As Lara, Rowe, Duviols, Urbano and many others 
have pointed out, Markham?s translation of the Quechua hymns remains ?desestimada 
universalmente? (Lara La poes?a quechua 73).
117
 The prologue and introduction by Francisco Loayza and Carlos Romero to the 
1943 edition of the manuscript, Las cr?nicas de los Molinas focus exclusively on the 
question of the prior confusion regarding the author?s identity and the transcription and 
translation errors of previous versions. Loayza and Romero do not concern themselves 
with proposing an exegesis of the Quechua hymns, or with establishing their opinions 
with regards to the ?authenticity? of the prayers. Though he does not specifically 
mention the Quechua hymns in his epilogue to this same edition, Ra?l Porras 
Barrenechea insists: 
el padre Molina es un cronista que inspira plena confiaza. Su m?todo es 
esencialmente objetivo, sin mezcla alguna de comentario, recuerdo o 
impression personal. Se ignoran por completo los sentimientos del cronista. No 
se sabe si aprueba o condena, si lo que relata le sugestiona o e produce 
entusiasmo o nostalgia. . . . Obra como la suya es el fruto de un amor profundo 
y el resultado de un trato comprensivo y amistoso. (Molina Las Cronicas 96)  
When read alongside the work of chroniclers like the Inca Garcilaso or Guaman Poma 
de Ayala who unrelentingly filled the pages of their manuscripts with arguments (both 
subtle and overt) and observations related to personal vendettas, Father Molina?s 
Relaci?n does indeed seem objective and impartial by comparison. His use of a 
distanced ethnographic style, however, certainly does not mean that this priest-
 chronicler did not alter the words and emphases of the Incan religious leaders? ?itua 
prayers. 
In La poes?a quechua Lara does not hesitate to express his firm belief that scholars 
should consider the hymns transcribed by Father Molina as, ?valiosos fragmentos de 
poes?a precolombina? (63). He asserts that within the chronicles of both Father Molina 
and Pachacuti Yamqui: 
118
 hay fragmentos de profunda belleza, int?rpretes del alto nivel de espiritualidad 
que alcanz? el pueblo incaico. . .  Muchos te cautivan por su elevaci?n lindante 
con la metaf?sica. Todos, por la fuerza emotiva que palpita en ellos. (ibid. 74) 
Lara repeatedly dismisses all critics who cite a colonial origin for the hymns-poems-
 songs contained within these works or within those of Garcilaso, Guaman Poma or Apu 
Ollantay. Of all the previously published studies of the hymns contained within the 
Relaci?n, Lara?s is the only one that attempts to comment on the hymns in terms of 
poetic form, possible verse structures, or thematic content.31 The nature of his 
observations will be discussed in more detail below. 
              In 1953 John Howland Rowe published an English translation of the hymns 
included in Father Molina?s manuscript. He also provided a new version of the 
manuscript?s Quechua transcriptions; reconstructions which are not based on the 
Madrid master copy, but on a comparison of the four previous editions of the Molina 
manuscript. Rowe?s interest lies in presenting a literal English translation, along with a 
precise reconstruction of the original Quechua based on his comparative studies of 
sixteenth century and modern Quechua dialects. Only in the very final paragraph of this 
article does Rowe mention the polemic concerning the contested pre-colombian origin 
of the hymns. He swiftly dismisses the observations of ?readers of Molina?s rather free 
Spanish translations?--that is to say, those unable to read the original Quechua?who 
naively claim to detect ?concepts in these prayers which parallel Christian ones . . . due 
to Spanish influence in the years following the conquest? (J.H. Rowe 95-96). Rowe 
wholly rejects such assertions, claiming that any serious study of the Inca texts ?makes 
such an idea highly unlikely because the phraseology in the original is so different from 
that used in Christian Inca literature? (ibid. 96). He goes on to declare, ?We are not 
119
 dealing here with a reflection of Spanish Christianity but with another great religion, 
the faith of Pachakuti Inka Yupanki? (ibid.). Rowe never explains, however, just what 
he means by the distinctly Incan ?phraseology in the original? or how this would 
compare to the literary styles of ?Christian Inca literature? (or even how he defines this 
genre and what works it might include). Instead, we are simply asked to accept the 
judgment of this Quechua scholar who fails to provide his readers with a more detailed 
explanation.    
The English translations of Father Molina?s hymns offered above are primarily 
based on Urbano and Duviols? 1989 edition of the Relaci?n (a reconstructed version 
based on the their direct consultation of the Madrid manuscript).32 Although my 
English translations of the hymns are not as literal as those of Duviols or J.H. Rowe, 
they are also not as free as Father Molina?s. The above translations lie somewhere 
closer to the realm of the German umdichtung; that is to say, a poem woven around 
another, though not necessarily directly, literally translated from the original. As 
Benjamin reminds us: 
In the act of translation the ?given? content becomes alien and estranged; and 
that, in its turn, leaves the language of translation Aufgabe, always confronted 
by its double, the untranslatable?alien and foreign. (164) 
In the process of translating these hymns to the English, numerous cases of Aufgabe do 
indeed surface, as English clearly lacks an equivalent or even a close approximation for 
many Quechua words and concepts. Nevertheless, the present translations take into 
account the rhythms and nuances of the English language in the choice of some words, 
while also making a concerted effort to evoke as closely as possible, the meanings, 
tones and intentions of the original hymns.
120
 In the introduction to their edition of the Relaci?n, Urbano and Duviols 
primarily focus on biographical information related to the two Molinas. They briefly 
mention a few details regarding previous editions of the manuscript (and their 
shortcomings), but make no comments regarding the ?authenticity? of the Quechua 
hymns, or whether they believe them to be compositions of the colonial era. The editors 
do not offer any formal analysis of the hymns, nor do they attempt to compare them 
with other examples of Quechua language prayer. If Duviols and Urbano fail to 
establish their position with respect to the ?authenticity? polemic in this 1989 edition, 
Duviols certainly makes up for this past silence when publishing his collaborative 
project with C?sar Itier in 1993-- a newly transcribed and translated edition of 
Pachacuti Yamqui?s Relaci?n de antig?edades deste reyno del Pir?. The 1993 volume 
includes extensive notes and introductory essays that provide detailed ethnolinguistic 
and morphological explanations of difficult to define appellations such as pacha 
yachachiq and runa wallpaq. The primary focus of the introduction, however, lies in 
the authors? intense interest in categorically refuting any argument claiming that the 
religious hymns included in the Molina and Pachacuti Yamqui chronicles are of Incaic 
origin. In his portion of the introduction Itier asserts, ?todo el vocabulario de los 
<himnos> forma parte tambi?n del acervo ling??stico catequ?stico?; a conclusion 
reached by systematically confirming the existence of a Spanish word for each 
Quechua word that appears in the hymns (Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui 39). The 
authors begin by stating the obvious when they declare that it is impossible to arrive at 
any conclusion regarding the origin of these hymns by comparing one unknown to 
another (that is, comparing the characteristics of say, the Pachacuti Yamqui hymns with 
121
 those transcribed by Father Molina or Guaman Poma) (ibid. 65). Instead, they seek to 
disprove the Incaic origin of the hymns by comparing them to a known (the cultural 
artifacts of the colonizing culture, specifically the Old Testament of the Bible).33
 Many of the observations made by these scholars which pertain to the 
?Christianized? language and concepts within the hymns could just as easily be 
interpreted as pertaining to a pantheistic, Quechua cosmology. For instance, the 
scholars see a clear allusion to genesis in the first line of Pachacuti Yamqui?s ?Prayer to 
the Creator? (which incidentally bears a remarkable resemblance to the first prayer 
transcribed by Father Molina):  A, Wiraqocha, t?iqse qhapaq, <kay qhari kachun, kay 
warmi kachun> . . . [Oh, Wiraqocha, ruler of all beginnings who has said <let there be 
man, let there be woman] (Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui 66, 68).34 Certainly these
 authors do not believe that the Judeo-Christian tradition is unique in locating the climax 
of its creation myth at the moment when a powerful deity blesses the earth with the first 
man and the first woman? Indeed, the creation myths of the Navajo of the 
Southwestern U.S., the Suru? of Brazil, the Ekoy and Efik of Nigeria, as well as the 
Incas (and countless other cultures), all include this element of the primordial couple. 
In the case of the Quechua cosmological myth, it is Inti who sends his son Manco 
C?pac and his daughter Mama Ocllo to teach the ?uncivilized? inhabitants of the earth 
how to successfully build cities and raise agricultural crops and animals.
 In most cases, Duviols and Itier present their observations as indisputable facts, 
when there are actually still many issues to dispute and plenty of questions to ask. An 
example of another questionable assertion concerns the authors? claim that the fourth 
line of Pachacuti Yamqui?s ?Prayer to the Creator? -- ?. . . hanan qucha mant?arayaq, 
122
 urin qucha tiyanqay pacha kamaq, runa wallpaq apu? ?. . .Creador de la extensi?n del 
mar de arriba y del mundo en que vivo, el mar de abajo, se?or Hacedor de la Gente??
 must refer to Genesis seventeen, ?E hizo Dios la expansi?n de las aguas que estaban 
sobre la expansi?n? (ibid. 69). Here again the authors commit the eurocentric error of 
assuming that the Old Testament of the bible is unique in its presentation of a world 
surrounded by superior waters of the heavens-- and after a flood-- the lower waters of 
the earth. How can they be sure that the hymn does not instead seek to commend the 
spectacular ordering powers of runa wallpaq who has carefully placed the runa in the 
realm of the kay pacha, comfortably sandwiched between the continuously flowing and 
interchanging forces of the hanan qocha above and the hurin qocha below? 
Granted, the Quechua universe generally consists of a circular flow between the 
waters of celestial and underworld rivers (hatun mayu) instead of oceans (hatun 
qocha), yet the importance of hatun, kay and hurin (and ukhu) as notions of spatial 
identity are simply too integral to the Quechua world view to quickly gloss over and 
into ?el mar de arriba?, ?mundo en que vivo? and ?el mar de abajo? (and to declare that 
the hymn?s line obviously refers to a passage from Genesis). These Quechua words and 
the complex categories to which they refer are indeed difficult to translate, but in such 
cases translators and literary critics should recall the important reminder: ?Verbal 
distinctions should be valued, since they stand for mental?intellectual?distinctions? 
(Borges 44). Indeed in the Quechua worldview, uku pacha, kay pacha and hanaq pacha
 (loosely translated as ?underworld?, ?this world? and ?upper world?) reflect the ?verbal 
and intellectual distinctions? of the division of the universe. Living humans inhabit kay 
pacha, while uku pacha is ?inhabited by tiny little beings and local protective spirits, a 
123
 deity of Christian origin, the devil, also resides in this world? (Valderrama and 
Escalante Autobiograf?a 123). Colonial ecclesiastics frequently used hanaq pacha as a 
gloss for ?heaven?. Although runa do believe that the deceased may reside in hanaq 
pacha, ?when runakuna die . . . they do not cease to exist but exist in a less immediate 
state than the living--- a parallel world from which they directly influence this one? 
(Allen 74). As Gelles and Mart?nez Escobar point out, ?in this scheme of things, 
humans are viewed as inhabiting the interface (?this world? or ?this life?) between two 
opposed worlds and as having to negotiate or balance the forces of the upper and lower 
worlds to achieve equilibrium? (149).    
In their effort to conclusively demonstrate that the Pachacuti Yamqui prayers 
are adaptations of evangelical propaganda of the colonial era, Itier and Duviols have 
identified eight reoccurring themes that frequently resurface in the prayers and which 
they point to as exemplary of a monotheistic doctrine. For instance, they assert that the 
Pachacuti Yamqui prayers establish a sense of the existence of one Supreme Being, an 
all-powerful God who created the world. Another key assertion, is the claim that the 
prayers advance a call for the ?necesidad y aceptaci?n de la fe y amor permanente en 
Dios, aunque Dios no corresponda con beneficios materiales? (Santa Cruz Pachacuti 
Yamqui 72). If these observations contribute to the refutation of the Incaic origin of the 
Pachacuti Yamqui hymns, they certainly do not apply to the case of those transcribed 
by Father Molina. In addition to the eight hymns directed to Wiraqocha (translated by 
Father Molina in his declaraciones as ?Hacedor? ?Creator-35), one hymn is dedicated to 
the Pachamama, one to punchao ynca inti yayay (translated by Father Molina as ?O 
sol, padre m?o?) and two which involve incantations to both Wiraqocha and huacas.36
124
 In the case of the hymns transcribed by Father Molina, although eight of the twelve 
prayers are dedicated to Wiraqocha, other deities such as Inti, Pachamama and the 
Huacas are not forgotten, thus reinforcing the polytheistic nature of the pre-colombian 
Quechua religious beliefs.37
 In addition to the fact that the hymns transcribed by Father Molina are 
dedicated to multiple deities, they also repeatedly seek to reinforce the tacit agreement 
of reciprocal support between humans and gods. In nearly all of the twelve hymns 
included in the Molina manuscript, the prayer?s worshiper poet tactfully reminds the 
deity in question that in creating humans, s/he has implicitly assumed responsibility for 
their well-being and that in return for assuring the material wealth of the Inca and his 
people, faithful runa will in turn love and respect the deity and present the god with 
sacrificial offerings as tangible expressions of their gratitude. All of these intricate and 
subtle acknowledgments of reciprocal responsibilities are evident in the very first 
Molina hymn: ?. . . Kamasqayki, churasqayki/qasilla qespilla kawsamusaq?[to those 
whom you have given life, to those whom you have created/peacefully, freely may they 
live] . . .marqariway/hat?alliway/kay qusqaytar? chaskiway [take me in your arms/take 
me by the hand/receive this offering]. The hymns transcribed by Father Molina 
frequently mention the reciprocal exchange of material goods between humans and 
deities. Such references contrast with the sentiments which Itier and Duviols claim to 
encounter in the Pachacuti Yamqui prayers; an emphasis on the need to embrace a 
strong faith and love for a Supreme God who does not provide tangible, material 
benefits (72). If, as these two scholars claim, this observation aids in proving the non-
125
 Incaic origin of the Pachacuti Yamqui prayers, then the contrasting examples from the 
hymns transcribed by Father Molina seem to suggest the reverse. 
In one of the Norton lectures delivered by Jorge Luis Borges at Harvard 
University in 1967, the Argentine poet and essayist points out that often times the 
overly academic reader becomes so deeply mired in questions regarding the 
circumstances of the publication or conception of a text and the biography of its 
author(s), that s/he fails to appreciate the text for what it is?a unique and beautiful 
artistic manifestation. Borges laments:
 I say that we are burdened, overburdened, by our historical sense . . . Now we 
are worried by circumstances; we want to know exactly what Homer meant
 when he wrote about the ?wine-dark sea? (if ?wine-dark sea? be the right 
translation; I do not know). But if we are historically minded, I think we may 
perhaps suppose that a time will come when men will be no longer as aware of 
history as we are. A time will come when they shall care very little about the 
accidents and circumstances of beauty; they shall care for beauty itself. Perhaps 
they shall not even care about the names or the biographies of the poets. (74)  
While a certain amount of historical and linguistic context can often help the reader to 
appreciate more fully the complex meanings that create beauty within a poem, song, 
story, novel or hymn, as literary critics we must be careful not to drown ?beauty itself? 
in the tempests of ?the accidents and circumstances of beauty?. The above consideration 
of the Molina hymns seeks to strike a certain balance. While the translations and 
commentaries contained in the previous pages address some of arguments presented by 
Duviols and Itier regarding the ?circumstances? surrounding the composition of these 
hymns, my primary focus is concentrated on engaging with the hymns on a literary 
level. Regardless of such polemics concerning ?origin? and ?authenticity?, the close-
 readings presented above seek to consider the hymns as complex, poetic incantations 
and as unique examples of the Quechua oral tradition. 
126
 Aesthetic Representations of Food as an Oppositional Tactic:  
Comentarios reales and the ?Escuela Cuzque?a? 
If the Quechua food-universe in the hymns transcribed by Father Molina serves 
as a communicatory vehicle between humans and their deities, in examples of colonial 
narrative and visual texts food serves a similar function, albeit in a less overt manner. 
In both the narrative of the Inca Garcilaso and the scenes painted by artists pertaining 
to the Escuela Cuzque?a, food serves as a tool for achieving a degree of adaptive 
resistance in the face of Spanish political, economic and cultural hegemony. In order to 
avoid censorship, these artists chose not to overtly challenge Spanish authority. Instead, 
they utilized the European genres of the historical chronicle and the Mannerist or 
Baroque-style religious canvas as strategic spaces in which they might subtly embed 
positive images of Andean society vis-?-vis their presentations of the Quechua food-
 universe. 
Inca Garcilaso?s Presentation of Food and ?Fact? in Comentarios reales
 The use and application of power frequently enter into changes in a society?s food consumption habits. 
Where this power originates; how it is applied and to what ends; and in what manner people undertake 
to deal with it, are all part of what happens when food habits change.
 -Sidney Mintz Tasting Food, Tasting Freedom
 In Garcilaso?s most well-known manuscript, Comentarios reales the author 
refutes, critiques and corrects many of the pre-Toledo chroniclers, while repeatedly 
asserting (particularly in his ?Proemia al lector?) that he is uniquely qualified to 
127
 provide an accurate description of the plethora of Incan ceremonies, rites and customs, 
?como propio hijo, podr? dezir mejor que otro que no lo sea? (Miro Quesada xx). In 
letters written to King Felipe II, Garcilaso refers to his Comentarios as a ?relaci?n? in 
which he seeks to present and describe:  ?las costumbres, ritos y ceremonias que la 
gentilidad de los Incas, se?ores que fueron del Per?, se guardaban en sus Reinos; para 
que V.M. las vea desde su origen y principio, escritas con alguna m?s certidumbre y 
propiedad de lo que hasta ahora se han escrito? (ibid.). Although Comentarios reales, 
appears similar in many ways to other historical chronicles?it provides a more or less 
chronological exposition of the history of an empire, its royal lineage, major 
institutions and customs? the text also utilizes narrative devices pertaining to the 
Quechua oral tradition. For example, in an attempt to establish his ?narrative authority?, 
the Inca continually describes his relative distance from the events he narrates while 
also detailing the manner in which he learned about them:  
. . . me pareci? que lo major traza y el camino m?s f?cil era contar lo que en mis 
ni?eces o? muchas veces a mi madre, y a sus hermanos y t?os, y a otros sus 
mayores . . . Despu?s de hab?rmelo dicho los indios . . . alcanc? y v? por mis 
ojos mucha parte de aquella idolatr?a, sus fiestas y supersticiones, que aun en 
mis tiempos, hasta los doce o trece a?os de mi edad, no se hab?a acabado del 
todo. (bk. I ch. XV)38
 Garcilaso often seeks to establish this authority by emphasizing his biography (his 
childhood living amongst Incan relatives) and his knowledge of the Quechua 
language?a skill which he considers as the key to properly interpreting and 
understanding Quechua myths, history and culture.39
 The biographies and motivations of the colonial chroniclers vary greatly, yet in 
all cases one must take care to interpret the information they provide with an ever-
 vigilant eye so as to remain cognizant of each writer?s intended audience and 
128
 ambitions. Garcilaso?s family tree included maternal branches of Incan royalty, while 
his father?s roots lay across the ocean in Extremadura. Though Garcilaso spent his 
formative years in Cuzco, he would never again visit American shores after his journey 
to Spain at the age of twenty-two. The mestizo writer did not, however, begin to 
compose the pages of Comentarios reales until nearly fifty years after his departure 
from Per?, thus he had to rely on his own memory, select passages salvaged from the 
writings of Father Blas Valera and the observations of a few other contemporaries 
while writing the manuscript.  
By the time Garcilaso sat down to write Comentarios reales, it seems likely that 
he no longer entertained any real hopes for receiving compensation for the lands 
wrested from his Incan relatives by the Spanish conquistadors. He remained intent, 
however, on clearing the good name of his father Captain Garcilaso, as well as properly 
honoring his Incan relatives and ensuring that they receive the respect they deserved in 
Europe. In his narrative then, Garcilaso takes great care to present the inhabitants of 
Tahuantinsuyu as intelligent, hardworking and benevolent people living in a society 
more sophisticated in many aspects, than that of Europe. In numerous cases, 
descriptions of the cultivation, distribution, preparation and consumption of food serve 
as Garcilaso?s communicatory vehicle for introducing the European reader to positive 
aspects of Tahuantinsuyu and unseemly traits of the Spanish invaders. In this way, the 
intricately crafted representations of food in Comentarios reales reflect the complex 
(and often devastating) social, political, economic and cultural aftershocks felt 
throughout the Andes in the years following the conquest of Tahuantinsuyu. 
129
 When chronicling Incan war practices for instance, Garcilaso relates that Incan 
soldiers often overtook their poorly equipped adversaries quite easily. In order to spare 
the lives of their wives and children from the threat of starvation, the ill-prepared and 
vanquished enemy would often quickly surrender. Always eager to present the Incas as 
benevolent colonizers ?in stark contrast to the barbarous Spaniards--, Garcilaso assures 
readers that once enemy soldiers laid down their arms, ?Los Incas . . . los regalaban y 
acariciaban y les daban de comer? (bk. VI ch. XIII). The oral histories transcribed by 
colonial chroniclers repeatedly mention the Incan custom of allowing defeated societies 
to retain many of their local gods. On the other hand, Incan laws required subjugated 
groups to replace their mother tongue with the Quechua language and to cultivate 
specific quantities and types of food crops for local consumption and for distribution 
throughout the empire. 
In the fifth book of Comentarios reales, Garcilaso explains that once a territory 
had been conquered, imperial engineers would arrive in order to begin the construction 
of irrigation canals (bk. V ch. II). Census calculators would appear soon after in order 
to proceed with the job of determining the new province?s population-- information 
needed for making decisions related to the quantity and type of agricultural 
infrastructure required in the region. This data would be used to calculate the number 
of manual laborers needed to begin the arduous process of creating arable terraces by 
slicing into the sides of mountain slopes (ibid.). While Inca rulers did require subjects 
to divide agricultural plots into three sections belonging to: Inti, the Inca king and the 
local populace, Garcilaso insists that this practice was always carried out with careful 
attention to the needs of each community: 
130
 que antes les sobrase que les faltase. Y cuando la gente del pueblo o provincia 
crec?a en n?mero, quitaban de la parte del Sol y de la parte del Inca para los 
vasallos; de manera que no tomaba el Rey para s? ni para el Sol sino las tierras 
que hab?an de quedar desiertas, sin due?o. (ibid.) 
In addition to the carefully planned and regulated system for the planting and 
harvesting of crops, the Incas also created a remarkably extensive system of highways 
whose 16,000 kilometers of stone roads snaked through the treacherous heights of their 
Andean empire and provided access to the many storehouses strategically sprinkled 
along its shoulder (see Hyslop). The weatherproofed storage sheds could indefinitely 
house surplus foodstuffs as insurance against a lean year in the region, or serve as a 
temporary repository for food in transit to another area of the empire in need of 
supplementary sustenance.40 In Guaman Poma?s Nueva coronica y buen gouierno, a 
1200 page letter written to King Felipe III in 1615, the indigenous chronicler proudly 
explains: 
c?mo sustentaua el Ynga los dep?citos deste rreyno que au?a en toda la 
prouincia . . . chuno [papa deshidratada para conservar], muraya [ch?u?u 
blanco], . . . charque [carne hecha conserva], lana en los Conde Suyos . . . 
camote y ax?, algod?n y maxno [verdura seca] y coca y rumo  [mandioca] . . . 
(1: 308)41
 According to Murra, the architecture of the storehouses helped to protect the stored 
agriculture products from variances in wind, sun, altitude and humidity and could be 
found along royal highways, ?2400 on one hillside near Cochabamba and over 1000 
above Xauxa? (122, 52-54).42 As is the case for any government, the stability of the 
Incas? reign depended on their ability to meet the daily physical needs of their subjects 
in terms of food and clothing. By creating a meticulously regulated system of 
cultivation, production and distribution of agricultural and textile products, the Incas 
succeeded in expanding and sustaining their vast empire.43
131
 In Comentarios reales, Garcilaso dedicates chapters IX- XVI of ?Book Eight? to 
the description of varieties of fruits, vegetables, grains and livestock native to Per?. 
Garcilaso carefully describes each foodstuff and details the necessary steps for 
preparing each item, as well as any medicinal value it may possess. He scoffs at the 
careless manner in which the Spanish have desecrated the original names of various 
foods, ?no quede sino la corrupci?n que a todos los nombres les dan? and chastises 
himself when unable to recall the names of certain fruits, ?por la distancia del lugar y 
ausencia de los m?os no podr? averiguar tan a?na el enga?o?  (bk. VIII ch. XII, XI). 
Garcilaso also enthusiastically praises such Andean foodstuffs as the uchu pepper and 
llama meat as superior to any in Europe and asserts that the Spanish also appreciate 
these and other high quality Andean products.   
During the early years of Spanish colonization and the imposition of the policy 
of the reducci?n, European crops were introduced into the Andes to be grown as 
tribute. Although most Andeans preferred their own diet to the new European 
foodstuffs, the pressure of tribute requirements led to the decline in the production of 
Andean crops for their own consumption (Kubler 355). The description of this 
competition between New and Old World foods continues in chapters XVII-XXX of 
?Book Nine? when Garcilaso describes the arrival of European foods to the Andes. 
While he does admit that many runa learned to enjoy the flavors of Spanish staples 
such as olives, grapes, wheat, beef, chicken and sugar cane, he also makes note of ?las 
ratas, que tambi?n pasaron con los espa?oles, que antes de ellos no las hab?a? (bk. IX, 
ch. XXII). Garcilaso also sardonically relates the ?anxiety? that plagued the Spaniards 
until they were able to cultivate their own Iberian fruits, vegetables and grains. So 
132
 important was this desire for gastronomical colonization that Garcilaso cites a royal 
decree in which Carlos V offered the gift of a royal jewel to the first Spaniard who 
could successfully harvest an appreciable crop of olives, wheat, grapes or barley (bk. 
IX ch. XXVII). 
While the Inca Garcilaso admits that the new Spanish crops initially impressed 
the indigenous Peruvians, he emphasizes that the Europeans were also amazed by the 
abundance and quality of the crops they succeeded in harvesting from the rich Peruvian 
soil. The introduction of Spanish seeds into Andean soils, however, could also wreak 
havoc on native species. Garcilaso laments that many Spanish flowers and herbs have 
proliferated to such an extent that:
 hay ahora tanta abundancia que muchas de ellas son ya muy da?osas . . . que    
han cundido tanto en algunos valles que han vencido las fuerzas y la diligencia 
humana toda cuanta se ha hecho para arrancarlas, y han prevalecido de tal  
manera que han borrado el nombre antiguo de los valles y forz?ndolos que se 
llamen de su nombre, como el Valle de la Yerbabuena, en la costa de la mar 
que sol?a llamarse Rucma, y otros semejantes. (bk. IX ch. XXIX)
 Garcilaso follows this tale of botanical and appellative assault (for both the valley?s 
native name and crop?the fruit called rucma or l?cuma?was supplanted by the 
Spanish yerbabuena) by relating the case of a mutant radish ?de tan extra?a grandeza, 
que a la sombra de sus hojas estaban atados cinco caballos . . . cosa tan monstruosa? 
(ibid.). The author corroborates his report by citing Don Mart?n de Contreras who 
claims, ?yo soy testigo de vista de la grandeza del r?bano, del valle de Cuzapa? and 
adding that in the valley of Y?cay ?com? de una lechuga que pes? siete libras y media? 
(ibid.).44
 Julio Ortega discusses these passages in his exploration of Garcilaso?s 
?discourse of abundance? and refers to them as the chronicler?s descriptions of the 
133
 ?abundance of Spanish transplants? (?Leer y describir? 402). He argues that these 
descriptions of gigantic radishes, lettuces and Spanish herbs reflect Garcilaso?s attempt 
to present ?otra prueba del providencialismo hist?rico? resulting from a fertile mixture 
of Old World seeds with New World soils (ibid.). Following this argument then, 
gigantic vegetables and rapidly spreading herbs signal a new ?abundance? which has 
resulted from a mixture of the ?new? and the ?old?; thus reinforcing Garcilaso?s 
argument that mestizaje (of both plants and humans) is a positive process. Although 
Ortega acknowledges that the chronicler?s anecdotes reveal how the hyper-fecundity of 
some Old World species may become ?monstrous? when transplanted to Per?, the 
scholar does not conjecture as to what this monstrosity might symbolize in Garcilaso?s 
narrative (ibid. 403).  
Although we can never know for sure, it seems likely that Garcilaso--keenly 
aware of the censorial powers of the Inquisition-- took advantage of these pages of 
seemingly innocuous alimentary descriptions to laud the virtues of indigenous Andean 
products and fertile soil and to condemn the monstrous invasion of foreign seeds (and 
soldiers) that decimated the native plants, animals (and humans). Instead of pertaining 
to a pro-mestizaje argument, it seems much more likely that in these pages the 
monstrous radish and insatiable yerbabuena serve as a metaphor for the greedy, 
colonizing appetites of the Spanish invaders and not as an example of the ?providential? 
fecundity of Old World species flourishing in the rich soils of the New.   
134
 Visual Representation of the Quechua Food-universe on Colonial Canvases
 In the first thirty years following the Spanish invasion of Tahuantinsuyu, 
European paintings began to arrive in the new colony and were sent to churches, 
convents and private collections (Mesa 13). By the year 1546 the Spanish painters Juan 
Guti?rrez de Loyola, Juan de Fuentes and Juan de Torrez had arrived in Cuzco and 
received stipends for various canvases within the city?s Cathedral (ibid.). In 1572 
Viceroy Toledo sent four paintings to Europe indicating that indigenous artists had 
created the works which he described as representing the Incan kings, their dynasty and 
their conquests (ibid. 14).45 Thus, by the 1570s indigenous artists were already actively 
painting in Cuzco, although it is generally acknowledged that the particular style 
known as the Escuela Cuzque?a did not arise until the first years of the seventeenth 
century (ibid. 15).
 Beginning in 1580, Italian painters of the Mannerist school began to arrive in 
Cuzco; the most well-known and influential of these was the Jesuit master Bernardo 
Bitti who arrived in Cuzco in 1583 (ibid.).46 Bitti?s arrival came in response to a letter 
written by Cuzco?s Fray Bracamonte to the head Father of la Compa??a de Jes?s in 
Rome requesting that a ?first class painter? be sent to Cuzco (Cummins 3). Fray 
Bracamonte justifies his request by arguing that ?spiritual instruction? of the ?indios? 
would be greatly facilitated if they were provided with visual representations of Church 
doctrine:  ?. . . mucho provecho que sacar?an de ver im?genes que representasen con 
majestad y hermosura lo que significaban, porque la gente de aquella naci?n va mucho 
tras estas cosas?? (qtd. in Cummins 3).
135
 The distorted proportions, abrupt spatial transitions and elongated human bodies 
which characterized the Mannerists style, however, aroused suspicion in Rome and led 
to the rise of the early Baroque movement in the late sixteenth century. This anti-
 Mannerist trend began shortly after the conclusion of the Council of Trent (1545-1563), 
which called for the use of art to instruct and cultivate piety through simplicity.47
 Baroque artists sought to create a sense of movement, energy and infinite space through 
their use of strong contrasts of light and shadow (a technique known as Chiaroscuro) 
and to amend the excesses of the Mannerists through the creation of a truer depiction of 
perspective. In their efforts to represent a realistic sense of emotional intensity, 
Baroque artists? carefully depicted minute details and textures of human figures, 
interior spaces and landscapes.
 In Per?, the transition to the Baroque only began to surface between the years 
1640-1660 through the work of the Flemish Jesuit artist Diego de la Puente and the 
influence of Spanish and Flemish paintings that begin to arrive in Per? (Mesa and 
Gisbert 112). Under the tutelage of primarily Jesuit masters beginning in the 
seventeenth century, Quechua artists produced scores of canvases depicting religious 
scenes for the newly constructed Catholic cathedrals and churches located in what are 
now the countries of Per?, Ecuador, Bolivia, Chile and Argentina. Following the 
Council of Trent, the Spanish Crown decided that it was necessary to adopt a strategy 
for curbing the influence of the Protestant Reformation in the Americas. As a result, 
numerous bibles and series of woodcuts depicting Catholic themes were ordered from 
Flemish print and workshops and then shipped to America (Ochoa et al. 170). Thus, it 
136
 should come as no surprise that the Flemish School of Amberes was particularly 
influential for the artists of the Escuela Cuzque?a (ibid.).
 Although the renowned Quechua artist Diego Quispe Tito initially imitated the 
Mannerist style of Bitti, he soon rejected its excesses and began to produce canvases 
which more closely resembled the bright colors, detailed representations of nature, 
generous use of light and careful spatial and proportional representations typical of 
seventeenth century Flemish engravings and paintings. Born in 1611 in the indigenous 
reducci?n of San Sebasti?n near Cuzco, Diego Quispe Titu apprenticed in a Mannerist 
workshop in Cuzco and continued painting until the age of seventy. Although the 
official policy of the ecclesiastical authorities proclaimed that artistic work should be 
carried out ?como acto de humildad? (Uriel Garc?a Escuela Cusque?a 166), in 1627 at 
the age of sixteen Diego Quispe Titu signed his first work ?La Inmaculada? (Mesa and 
Gisbert 18). Henceforth, the artist signed all of his canvases, although he often partially 
concealed his signature within the ribbons or foliage of his paintings (ibid.). Quispe 
Tito?s rejection of the Mannerists and his adoption of elements of the Flemish Baroque 
in creating his own unique compositions are generally credited with inspiring the less 
Europeanized canvases and murals of what is known as Pintura Popular Cuzque?a and 
which began to appear in the 1680s (ibid. 23).48
 The primary motivation behind the establishment of Cuzco?s artistic workshops 
was to aid in educating runa in Catholic doctrine. As Uriel Garc?a asserts: 
Para que la catequizaci?n fuera efectiva se emple? el arte, poni?ndolo al 
servicio de la teolog?a . . . Vino a ser desde entonces un modo de ense?anza 
inusitada, capaz de propagar objetivamente la doctrina cat?lica dicha por 
s?mbolos pl?sticos, por ?pensamientos por im?genes?. (Escuela Cusque?a 166) 
137
 With the conclusion of the Council of Trent, the Church issued a more tightly 
controlled doctrine with regards to what could be considered an appropriate image 
within a Catholic temple; interpretations of biblical scenes and the implementation of 
religious symbolism were to follow strict norms issued by the Vatican (Ochoa et al. 
168). Yet regardless of the Church?s concerted efforts to control the form, content, 
technique and style of the artists? images, glimpses of adaptive resistance appear on 
many of the canvases. 
Several well-known paintings of the Escuela Cuzque?a depict versions of 
sacred meals including:  La ?ltima cena, La comida de la Sagrada Familia, La Danza 
de Salom?, El milagro de Santo Domingo en el almuerzo and El camino al cielo. The 
scene of biblical repast most frequently represented by the Escuela Cuzque?a, however, 
is certainly La ?ltima cena. Undoubtedly the most unique of these representations is La 
?ltima cena painted by the Quechua artist Marcos Zapata in the mid-eighteenth century 
for Cuzco?s Cathedral.49 Although at first these depictions of Jesus and his disciples 
seem to abide by the classic European representations of this solemn scene, a second 
and then a third look at these canvases reveals another story.50
 In at least three depictions of the Last Supper painted by Andean artists51, the 
central platter of this sacred, biblical meal features none other than the Quechua 
delicacy of cuy.52 While almost all European representations of the Last Supper during 
the fifteenth through the seventeenth centuries feature loaves of bread and cups of wine 
interspersed around the table, very few depict any other victuals. Although a central 
platter usually occupies the center of the table, it almost always remains empty.53 In 
addition to the prominence of the cuy in the Escuela Cuzque?a depictions of the Last 
138
 Supper, the placement of a variety of other foodstuffs upon the sacred table further 
distinguishes these Quechua versions from most European versions of the scene. 
Figure 1:  La ?ltima cena, Marcos   
Zapata, mid-18th century.
 Marcos Zapata?s eighteenth century version is the most notable in this respect, 
as he scatters an assortment of fruits across the table and places two baskets of fruit on 
either side of Jesus? elbows.54 The representation of fruit at the Last Supper is absent 
from all of the above-mentioned European versions of the scene. While Old World 
fruits such as pomegranates, peaches and grapes appear in the baskets on the sacred 
table painted by Zapata, familiar delicacies pertaining to the Quechua food-universe 
such as paltas (avocadoes) and humitas (corn tamales) emerge from the part of the 
basket lying closest to Jesus? outstretched hands. Numerous granadillas55 ring the table, 
while several partially consumed pomegranates surround the platter of cuy. When 
painting the rounder, brighter ?Old World? cousin of the equally seed-filled granadilla, 
did Zapata realize the inevitable doom associated with the powerful pomegranate 
seed? the cause of Persephone?s downfall and Demeter?s sorrow? In any case, Jesus 
clutches his bread and blesses the meal while all of the disciples except Judas fervently
 clasp their hands together as they gaze imploringly at their master.56 With all of these 
exotic foodstuffs strewn across the table, each disciple?s half moon of bread takes on 
139
 the appearance of a protective barrier shielding the pious diners from the temptation of 
such mysterious fare.57
 The insertion of elements pertaining to the Quechua food-universe within the 
context of a sacred Christian feast signals the artists? decision to eliminate the central 
position of Western foodstuffs at the consecrated table.58 Yet the question remains: are 
such exchanges simply representative of the na?ve ?mistakes? of uncultured and 
?provincial? Quechua artists, or do such ?gastronomical swaps? represent a more 
purposeful commentary against the aesthetic, religious and cultural oppression of the 
Spanish colonizers?  
Although it is impossible to prove in a definitive way, it appears that by 
replacing the representation of Old World foods with prominent depictions of Andean 
victuals, Quechua artists sought to achieve a sort of adaptive resistance to the aesthetic 
stipulations enforced by the church, without completely breaking away from sanctioned 
aesthetic forms and styles. In this way, ?La escuela cuzque?a puede ser considerada 
como la iniciadora de un arte popular y a?n revolucionaria en Am?rica . . . como un 
arma de lucha dentro de las condiciones sociales de aquellos tiempos, disimulada a su 
vez, por aquellas simulaciones de catequizaci?n? (Uriel Garc?a Escuela Cusque?a 170). 
Apparently some critics feel uncomfortable with the notion that Quechua artists could 
have so consciously attempted to resist Church doctrine, thus it has been posited that 
the enormity of the cuy and its platter in Zapata?s ?Last Supper? can only be explained 
by blaming such uncharacteristic ?falta de perspectiva y colocaci?n de objetos y 
viandas en la mesa? as the artistic errors of one of his unskilled collaborators (Mesa 
and Gisbert 211). 
140
 Likewise, it has been suggested that the inclusion of ?native cultural elements? 
in religious paintings could have been part of a ?subtle political strategy to diffuse the 
Catholic faith? (Morales 100-101). Although Morales does not explain exactly what he 
means by this hypothesis, it appears as if he is suggesting that the ecclesiastic 
leadership encouraged Quechua painters to include ?native elements? in their canvases 
as a conversion strategy aimed at attracting the attention and appealing to the aesthetic 
taste of indigenous viewers (and prospective converts). Not only does this idea seem 
highly unlikely after the strict decrees regarding appropriate images for temples 
following the Council of Trent59, but this position also assumes that indigenous artists 
were simply a mechanical extension of the Church?s desires and demands, incapable of 
creating or carrying out their own aesthetic or cosmological visions.
 Particularly in the case of the Escuela Cuzque?a?s representations of the Last 
Supper, the aesthetic choice to incorporate elements of the Quechua food-universe into 
religious canvasses echoes the sentiment behind Garcilaso?s juxtaposed descriptions of 
Quechua and Iberian food-universes which contain (partially veiled) critiques of 
Spanish greed and violence. By placing the cuy at the center of a key biblical scene and 
by presenting the hyper-fertility of European cultivars as potentially harmful 
agricultural invaders, Garcilaso and the painters of the Escuela Cuzque?a cleverly 
critique arrogant Spanish assumptions that ?Old World? foods and customs are superior 
to those of the Quechua Indians. If aesthetic representations of food in Tahuantinsuyu?s 
religious rituals and hymns were primarily focused on creating a balance of praise and 
petitions directed towards Incan deities, in post-conquest Per?, artistic representations 
141
 of food have often served as subtle tools for the dissemination of positive depictions of 
Quechua culture and traditions.
142
 1
  That the Incas appreciated the spectacular aesthetic effect produced by gold and silver decorations and 
ornaments is evident in the descriptions of the gold leaved walls of Qoricancha?the ?Temple of the 
Sun?, as well as the many sacred objects fashioned from the precious metals. Garcilaso recalls that within 
Qoricancha in Cuzco, ?Hab?a un gran maizal y la semilla que llaman quinua y otras legumbres y ?rboles 
frutales, con su fruta toda de oro y plata, contrahecho al natural?- thus we see a case in which the Incas 
honored their foodstuffs by creating golden replicas (bk. III ch. XXIV).  
2
  In his book, Las cr?nicas de los Molinas, the Peruvian historian Carlos A. Romero deconstructs the 
mistaken conflation of Crist?bal de Molina ?el Cuzque?o? with Crist?bal de Molina ?el Almagrista? or ?el 
Chileno?. Both men resided in Per? during the same years, though after much initial confusion and 
debate, Romero, Barrenechea, Urbano, Duviols and other scholars have come to agree that Molina ?el 
Cuzque?o? authored Relaci?n de las f?bulas y mitos de los Incas, while Molina ?el Chileno? (almagrista)
 wrote Conquista y poblaci?n del Per? and served as the church choir director of Santiago de Chile?s 
Cathedral (Rivera Serna 590). Ra?l Porras Barrenechea, however, ruefully tempers his opinion by 
conceding, ?No ser?a raro que, en el futuro, alguien los pegara de nuevo y resultaran uno solo, o acaso 
tres? (in Romero 88). In Los cronistas del Per?, Barrenechea affirms that Molina ?el Cuzque?o? was the 
son of Diego de Ja?n and Mar?a G?mez de Avila of Andaluc?a and not a mestizo as many, following the 
assertions of Romero, had previously assumed (Porras Barrenechea 350).
 3
  A visitador was an informer of sorts, employed by the Spanish Crown to infiltrate indigenous 
communities in order to better understand their political, economic and social organization, as well as 
details regarding their religious beliefs.   
4
  Guaman Poma does not use the word ?itua in his description of the month of August. He does, 
however, describe the month as a time when people, ?sacrificauan en los ?dolos, uacas, pobres desde 
rreyno con lo que pod?an, con cuuis [conejos de Indias] y mullo [conchas] y zanco y chicha y carneros 
(1: 225). He claims that it was in September when the Incas began to ?echar las enfermedades de los 
pueblos y las pistelencias de todo el rreyno . . . y en esto rruc?an todas las casas y calles; lo rriegan con 
agua y lo linpian. Esto se haz?a en todo el rreyno y otras muchas serimonias . . .? (ibid. 1: 231). We can 
assume that this confusion of months was due to the fact that both Garcilaso and Guaman Poma 
attempted to refashion the Incan ritual calendar within the perimeters of the calendar used by the 
Spaniards. To make matters more confusing, the Christian (European) world was in the process of 
transitioning their calendar from the Roman to the Gregorian calendar during the late sixteenth century, 
just before these authors composed their works.
 5
  Indeed the Quechua verb used to designate the offering of a sacrifice to a deity is ?mikhuchiy? or ?to 
  feed?.
 6
  Father Molina?s translation of Hacedor, Sol and True?o refer to the Quechua deities Viraqocha, Inti 
and Illapa who will be discussed in detail below.
 7
  Consult Irene Silverblatt (Moon, Sun, and Witches 81-108), Peter Gose and Tom Zuidema for detailed 
if somewhat contradictory discussions of this fascinating Incan institution. In the various colonial 
chronicles aqllas are also referred to as ?mamaconas?, ?viriginal wives of the sun?, or as ?chosen virgins?. 
In other cases, mamacona is used to designate the older women living within the aqllawasi who were 
responsible for providing instruction to the younger aqllas.  
8
  It is not clear whether the provincial aqllas spent their entire lives living within an aqllawasi, or whether 
as Gose suggests, their service to the aqllawasi consisted of ?poco m?s que un rito de transici?n 
ampliado que culminaba en el matrimonio y el regreso a la vida fuera del aqlla wasi, mientras que para 
aquellas de extracci?n social superior, era una carrera? (466). It appears as if Gose is basing this 
assertion on Guaman Poma?s description of one of the various classes of aqllas called ?uinachicoc aclla 
[?escogida que hace crecer?] que entrauan de quatro a?os las muchachas, que aprend?an a trauajar, texer, 
hilar? estauan en esta casa hasta dies a?os?, because even the pampa acllaconas [?escogidas 
campesinas?] remained virgins and served the Inca for life (1: 274). It is of course extremely difficult to 
determine which women were became aqllas, where they served and for how long they served the Incan 
state through their work within the aqllawasi. Gose for example, bases his assertions regarding the 
universal aqlla service of prepubescent girls throughout tahuantinsuyu on the testimony of only one 
chronicler, Pedro Pizarro (1571:  94, 97). Cieza de Le?n on the other hand, claims that the aqllas 
?estavan en el templo hasta ser viejas?, while Cobo asserts that the aqllas ?en cada pueblo principal y 
143
 cabeza de provincia? encerr?banse en estos monasteries desde ni?as de diez a doce a?os? and gives no 
indication that they are later released to marry (Cieza 2: xxvii; Cobo 2: bk. XIII ch. XXXVII). Zuidema?s 
conception of this Incan institution takes a ?middle-of-the-road? stance in that he agrees with Gose?s 
argument that many adolescent girls will released from duty after having served for five years in 
provincial aqllawasis, but he also asserts that even these girls? (whose service as an aqlla was temporary) 
were chosen to serve based on a criteria of ?beauty and physical perfection? (Zuidema 55). Basing his 
argument on the accounts of Cobo and Guaman Poma, Zuidema claims that at the age of fourteen, girls 
who had been chosen at the age of nine to serve as aqllas were once again subjected to a selection 
process, after which the ?chosen girls? would be sent to temples in the provincial capital (ibid.). The 
most beautiful of these women would be sent on to Cuzco to serve in temples for life as ?aqllas of the 
Sun?, while the others would ?assume the title of ?acllas of the Inca?? (ibid.).
 9
  Today in the Andes, an ill person may call for a local healer to sacrifice a cuy (preferably black) so that 
its innards may be read and a proper diagnosis discovered. Garcilaso also mentions that the Incas 
preferred to sacrifice black llamas, ?este color fue entre estos indios antepuesto a los dem?s colores para 
los sacrificios, porque lo ten?an por de mayor deidad, porque dec?an que la res prieta era en todo prieta, y 
que la blanca, aunque fuese en todo su cuerpo, siempre ten?a el cocico prieto, lo cual era defecto, y por 
tanto era tenida en menos que la prieta? (bk. VI ch. XXI).
 10
  This sort of banquet is by no means unique to the Incas, as many of the indigenous peoples of ancient 
and present-day Mesoamerica carry out annual rituals of memoriam by preparing the favorite foods of 
deceased loved ones. In M?xico and Guatemala for instance, talented artisans craft frolicking skeleton 
marionettes and figurines from papier-m?ch?, clay and other materials and families place food, flowers, 
candles, photographs and letters around elaborately decorated alters in honor of the dead.
 11
  As Ricardo Valderrama and Carmen Escalante remind us, ?es una costumbre bien andina compartir la 
comida con los ausentes? (?Ser mujer? 165). In contemporary Per?, when a woman?s child is absent 
from her home she will often blow across the plate of served food in the assumed direction of the absent 
family member saying, ?saborllanpas samanllanpas chayanman? (?May this flavor, may this vital energy 
reach you?) (ibid.).
 12
  Catherine Allen describes a ritual quite similar to the Aya Marcay Quilla ritual described by Guaman 
Poma and the ?itua rites described by Garcilaso and Father Molina. In the community of Sonqo 
(department of Cuzco) she observed that a special meal of boiled beans, quinua, papas, bread, noodles 
and liquor is prepared for deceased family members on November first. A specially designated ?mihuq? 
or ?eater?, declaims a series of special prayers for the dead before beginning to consume the deceased?s 
meal. The next day is known as kachaypari (send off) and the souls are sent on their way by dancers. A 
similar meal is prepared for the send off of the dead, on the eighth day after their passing (165).
 13
  Silverblatt also relates that women were responsible for organizing and carrying out all ritual duties 
related to the cult of the creator of food, Mamraiguay in the province of Cajatambo (Moon, Sun, and 
Witches 37).
 14
  Silverblatt also describes cases of women who cook for their ancestor mallquis. In at least some 
communities it was believed that attending even one Catholic Mass was enough to forever contaminate a 
woman?s ability to prepare such offerings (ibid. 205).
 15
  Incidentally, the virtually identical first and last prayers transcribed by Father Molina are precisely the 
ones that so closely resemble the ?Prayer to the Creator? attributed to Manco Capac by Pachacuti 
Yamqui.
 16
  Here, I have followed Taylor?s lead in defining the verb kamay in a religious context as designating ?la 
comunicaci?n a diversos seres de una fuerza vital? (qtd. in Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui 138). Drawing 
on colonial sources such as the Inca Garcilaso and dictionaries compiled by Gon??lez Holgu?n and Santo 
Tom?s, Taylor defines kamaq (or camac) as ?la fuerza que anima?, while the verb stem kama- denotes 
the acts of:  ?organizar, de ordenar (poner en orden), de transmitir a otro la capacidad de realizarse? 
(Camac, camay y camasca 5-8).
 17
  In this line Nisqaykita functions much as nispa does in line five?as a means of attributing the 
previous statements (the promises of lines 7,8) to a specific speaker (here, Wiraqocha). Nisqaykita, 
however, does not convey the same authority as nispa (which essentially signals the verbatim repetition 
144
 of a past speech act). For this reason, I have chosen not to enclose lines 7,8 in quotation marks, reserving 
this punctuation solely for cases in which a phrase is marked by nispa.
 18
  Here I have translated line three?s wallparillaq following Gon??lez Holgu?n?s (1989) definition, ?el 
que haze bien algo de manos.? As noted by Duviols and Itier, the verbal root ?wallpa? has disappeared 
from all dialects of contemporary Quechua. In their reconstruction of the original sense of ?wallpa?, Itier 
and Duviols point out that most missionaries translated ?wallpa? as the verb ?crear?/create (Santa Cruz 
Pachacuti Yamqui 165). They cite Bertonio?s 1612 Aymara dictionary as defining wallpa as ?Apercebir 
lo que es menester para alguna obra, edificio, viaje, guerra etc? (ibid. 167). In this case then, perhaps the 
?skilled craftsman? refers to Wiraqocha?s successful educational campaign which transitioned the world 
out of the darkness and into a more civilized era (as explained in note 12). Duviols and Itier propose a 
similar hypothesis when considering wallpariq in the context of the Pachacuti Yamqui prayers (ibid. 
169). They also point out that after 1610, ?wallpay? and ?yachachi? are replaced by the verbs ?ruray? or 
?kamay? for the Christian concepts of ?Creation? or ?Formation?. Their hypothesis is both interesting and 
probable; Catholic priests likely reasoned that it was preferable to avoid the christianization of 
vocabulary with strong polytheistic/pagan nuances and instead inject more neutral words with the 
intended Christian significance (ibid. 171).  
19
  For an analysis of the nuances of nispa in the hymns transcribed by Father Molina see Harrison Signs, 
Songs and Memories 75-77. 
20
  For other discussions of this Quechua poetic convention see:  Harrison Signs, Songs, and Memories: 
159 and Salomon and Urioste 35.
 21
  Duviols alters Father Molina?s transcription to read as follows:  ?Pacha, chakana, runa, llana, 
mikhuy? and translates it as, ?gente, ganado, v?veres?, thus choosing not to attempt a translation of 
Father Molina?s chacam.      (Molina Fabulas y mitos 90). Father Molina?s actual transcription (as 
reprinted in Duviols and Urbano?s edition) reads, ?pachachacamrunallama micuy? and in his 
Declaraci?n desta oraci?n, Father Molina translates the line as, ?la ch?caras y las jentes y el ganado? 
(ibid.). Meneses? translation follows Father Molina?s lead and Rowe also opts for the rendering of 
chacam as chacra with his ?earth, fields, people, flocks, food.? I see no need for Rowe?s decision to 
change llama to ?flocks?, but I agree with his decision to prefer the assumption that the /c/ in Father 
Molina?s chacam should really read /r/ --particularly since Father Molina himself includes the word 
ch?caras in his Declaraci?n-- instead of opting for Duviols? complete omission of the word when he 
translates line seven of this hymn.
 22
  Here I have chosen the English ?helpers? as a gloss for Quechua?s much more complex minkha. 
Gon?alez Holgu?n defines minccani with the very straight forward ?alquilar personas.? If ayni generally 
refers to work performed for a neighbor or relative with the expectation that this work will be returned at 
some point in the future, then minkha usually refers to the repayment of one?s previously expended ayni. 
In a contemporary context, however, I have heard the word minkha used to signify wage labor. For 
example, if a mestizo landowner has never lent ayni to his runa neighbor and hires him to help with the 
harvest in exchange for a monetary reimbursement this is also considered minkha (See also, Mannheim 
The Language of the Inka 90-91 and Allen 93).  
23
  See note 14; as Duviols and Itier point out, like ?wallpay?, ?wana? has also completely disappeared 
from present-day dialects of Quechua and is even less documented in colonial sources than its 
mysterious cousin wallpay (Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui 167).
 24 Ayniy is an important Andean concept whose complex meaning resists translation. In her discussion of 
Andean cultural categories of equilibrium, Harrison defines ayni as the concept of  ?. . . reciprocity 
among equals, where labor is not contracted but (theoretically) exchanged as a service to another, who 
owes a similar service in return as well. Implicit is an understanding that the same type of work will be 
performed? (Signs, Songs and Memories 52).  
25
  Father Molina refers to Hymns 4,5, 8 and 9 as ?Otra Oraci?n.?
 26
  Juan P?rez Bocanegra also records a prayer indicating the influence exercised by the huacas and
 villcas over the success of agricultural crops, as well as the manner in which a reciprocal relationship 
between humans and deities could ensure a mutually beneficial outcome for all.  P?rez Bocanegra 
transcribes and translates the prayer as follows:  ?A huacacuna, villcacuna, ?arayoc, micuiniyoc cai 
?arallaita yachacuchipuai amatac huacllipu acachu? (?huacas, villcas, que teneis el ma?z, y las comidas, 
145
 hazed que este maiz salga bueno, y no permitais que se da?e?) (132).  Duviols and Itier point out that as 
the Spanish colonizers became increasingly effective in destroying the Inca?s huacas, mummies and 
other physical representations of their ancestral deities, runa were forced to shift their worship of the 
ancestors to a more symbolic realm, by replacing the physical grave or mummy of an ancestor with the 
more clandestine alternative of worshipping a mountain or river apu instead (Santa Cruz Pachacuti 
Yamqui 68).
 27
  Father Molina does not even attempt to translate this line and Duviols and Urbano indicate the 
ambiguity of the manuscript here; allasto might also be read as llasto and allanto as llanto. If this is the 
case than it seems fair to assume also that Tayna may actually be Qayna, a temporal adjective meaning 
?in the past, or ?long ago? and a word which would make sense in the context of this hymn which begins 
by recalling Wiraqocha?s creation of the world. While it is impossible to know just what the hymn?s 
worshiper poet wished to express in this line, if one renders the line as ?Qayna allasta llanto?
 Wiraqochaya?, [?Harvesting crops in the shadows of that long ago time?. Wiraqochaya?], the verb 
?allay? (?to harvest, especially tubers?) would make sense given that the previous line praises Wiraqocha 
as a ?Wallpay wana? (?diligent worker?).
 28
  The abrupt and very negative tone of these final lines as compared to the conciliatory, optimistic 
endings of the other hymns leads me to believe that perhaps the final lines of the hymn have been lost. 
The last two lines included in the Molina manuscript, however, refer to various Quechua categories of 
magic wielding humans or supernatural beings. ?Nak?asqa? (?pursued through the night?) is likely 
derived from the noun ??akaq?, a supernatural creature believed to attack unsuspecting runa (usually at 
night) and then drag them off to their death by sucking out the victim?s body fat (see for example, 
Weismantel Cholas and Pishtacos xxvi-xxviii and Morote Best). According to Guaman Poma and 
Gon?al?z Holgu?n, ?Umu? referred to a runa who practiced malevolent witchcraft (indeed contemporary 
Quechua speakers use the word in this manner as well) (Guaman Poma 1: 274-275, 247-248; Gon?al?z 
Holgu?n 1989: 355). Although Lira defines the word with a more positive connotation-- ?Sacerdote 
supremo en la religi?n inkayka. Teocrata. Profeta, vidente, vate. Astr?logo, augur, ar?spice, zahor?? 
(Diccionario Kkechuwa-Espa?ol 1041)?it is clear that in the context of this hymn, umu (used here in its 
adjectival form [-sqa]) denotes malevolent powers (thus its translation as ?bewitched?). The word 
?Watuq? also refers to a magic wielding runa diviner who may not always use his/her powers for evil 
(ibid. 553). As in the case of the category of ?Umu?, however, in the context of this hymn ?watuq? refers 
to the potentially dangerous powers of these Quechua seers, capable of rendering a runa ?cursed?.   
29
  Garcilaso?s chronicling of Peruvian history comprises two volumes. Comentarios Reales [1609] 
relates the history, myths and culture of the Incas, while La historia general del Per? [1617] describes 
the conquest, the subsequent civil wars and the manner in which the Spaniards sought to occupy Per? 
(culminating in the defeat of the Inca resistance led by Tupac Amaru in 1576). 
30
  I have chosen to use the word semanteme here to describe all of the connotations and nuances attached 
to any particular word. Webster?s International Dictionary (2nd ed.) defines semanteme as ? . . . an image 
or idea connected to a word, as opposed to a morpheme which is an element that relates and connects 
these images or ideas within a sentence.?
 31
  The observations Lara makes in La poes?a quechua are later included in abbreviated form in his 1976 
publication, La cultura de los Incas (350-352).
 32
  The scholars also offer their own literal translation of the Quechua verse into Spanish, along with 
occasional explanatory footnotes that often provide definitions of Quechua vocabulary as defined by 
Domingo de Santo Tom?s or Gon??lez Holgu?n.
 33
  While these introductory essays were written as a preface to the new edition of the Pachacuti Yamqui 
chronicle and accompanying Quechua hymns, the majority of the arguments regarding the so-called 
?missionary quechua? of the Pachacuti Yamqui hymns also pertain to the hymns transcribed by Father 
Molina. At times the essays also specifically refer to the Molina hymns.
 34
  Duviols translates this line as follows:  ?Oh Viraqocha, Se?or del principio, Se?or que dijiste:  <?ste 
sea var?n, ?sta sea mujer> . . .?  In this section I will place Spanish translations in quotation marks, 
italicize the Quechua and place [English translations] in brackets.
 35
  Duviols considers Father Molina?s gloss, ?El Hacedor? for Wiraqocha  ?totalmente abusiva e inexacta? 
(Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui 55).  
146
 36
  The hymns dedicated to the Creator (Hacedor) are also alternately addressed to:  Sol, Ynga, 
Wiraqocha, Teqse Wiraqocha and Qalla Wiraqocha). The creator hymns are numbers: 1,2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 
12; the huaca hymns are numbers 3, 11 (although Father Molina entitles Hymn eleven Oraci?n a todas 
las huacas the first line directs itself to pachaq ch?ulla Wiraqocha, which Father Molina glosses as 
?padres huacas y huilcas?); Hymn 9 is dedicated to the Pachamama; and Hymn 10 to ?Todos los yngas?.
 37
  The origins and significance of the Wiraqocha deity have been extensively discussed elsewhere (see:  
Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui which includes references to previous studies). For our purposes here, it is 
important to keep in mind that Wiraqocha was a pan-Andean hero; a deity who supposedly introduced 
the Incas to the arts of agriculture and weaving and who ended the disastrous first era of a sunless world 
inhabited by gigantic beings incapable of cooperating with one another and ignorant of the skills needed 
to construct cities, develop agriculture and organize an empire. In many versions of the Wiraqocha myth, 
the deity dons a white beard and hails from a region near Lake Titicaca. This singular physical 
characteristic led to an initial assumption that the bearded Spanish conquerors were an incarnation of the 
Andean deity. To this day the term Wiraqocha connotes power, dominance, wealth and whiteness, so that 
a runa will often refer to an authority figure, or wealthy neighbor as ?Wiraqocha? as a sign of deference 
and respect [see also: Gelles and Mart?nez Escobar?s 6-7, 146-147; as well as Harrison?s discussion of 
possible origins and translation of the word (Signs, Songs, and Memories 94-95)].  
38
  Further examples of how Garcilaso incorporates aspects of the Quechua Oral tradition in his 
Comentarios will be discussed in greater detail in Chapter IV.
 39
  Following the brief dedication and ?Proemio?, Garcilaso begins his Comentarios with an introduction 
to the Quechua language entitled ?Advertencias, acerca de la lengua general de los indios del Peru.? In 
this section, Garcilaso describes some of the ways in which subtle changes in pronunciation and syllabic 
accents can change the meaning of a word and how the creation of the plural in Quechua is completely 
different from European languages. As Miro Quesada points out, ?El conocimiento del lenguaje es para 
?l una clave para la precisi?n del hecho hist?rico, para la determinaci?n de las ?reas geogr?ficas, para 
descubrir los secretos del alma y la estructura social de los pueblos. La interpretaci?n real o no de una 
palabra, o la pronunciaci?n fiel o no de esa palabra, aclara o ensombrece desde una doctrina hasta un 
objeto (xxiv).
 40
  See Michael Symons (chapter 12) for a discussion of the ways in which sophisticated systems of 
storehouses allowed for the growth and success of such ancient civilizations as Ur (in Mesopotamia), 
Indus (in present day West Pakistan), Knossos (Crete) and the T?ang Dynasty in their ancient capital of 
Luoyang China (250- 255).
 41
  Later on in the same letter he laments the manner in which the Spaniards abuse the system of the 
storehouses, enumerating all of the goods and services that the invaders demand without providing 
proper reimbursement. Guaman Poma denounces ?los dichos espa?oles pasageros, aunque sean 
saserdotes que pasan por los caminos rreales y tanbos, como llegan a los dichos tanbos con c?lera 
arreuata a los yndios tanberos? y piden mitayos y mucho camarico [regalo], ac? de ma?s y papas y 
carnero y gallinas y g?ebos? y chuno [conserva de papas], quinua [semilla de altura], chiche 
[pescaditos] y chicha y frazada chuci, y olla? y pide cocinera que de todo monta la paga doze pesos de 
cada d?a y de todo ello, como quien dize que descarga la consencia? (2: 500). This list of both Andean 
and European products surrendered to the undeserving and unappreciative Spaniards closely resembles a 
similar list detailed in his chapter on the abuses of the padres (ibid. 536) and the caciques principales 
(ibid. 714); the length and care with which Guaman Poma describes the foods taken by the Spaniards 
seems to function both as a way to emphasize the extent of the exploitation inflicted on the runa, while 
simultaneously demonstrating the rich variety of Quechua dishes and products, as well as their 
knowledge of the cultivation and preparation of American foodstuffs (For an even longer and more 
detailed list-- provided as proof that there is ?pan de sobra en este rreyno?-- of Andean foods enjoyed by 
runa in addition to the ?trigo y seuada?, see ibid. 2: 840-41). Ortega considers these critiques of disorder 
and abuses amongst propagated by colonial officials as a primary image and symbol of colonial violence 
and pillaging (?Guaman Poma? 33). He argues that Guaman Poma?s description of food becomes one of 
the chronicles primary metaphors and serves as a ?poderosa version de la violencia, y de la irracionalidad 
de la pr?ctica colonial, que destruye los saberes y difunde la carencia? (ibid.).      
147
 42
  For more detailed descriptions of the system of Incan storehouses see C. Morris and Guaman Poma 1: 
308.
 43
  Ironically, the numerous, well-stocked storehouses of the Incan Empire facilitated the movement of the 
European invaders throughout Tahuantinsuyu. Murra relates, ?As late as 1547, 15 years after the 
invasion, Polo de Ondegardo was still able to feed an army of 2000 European soldiers for seven weeks 
with what they found stored in the warehouses at Xauxa (122).
 44
  While one may argue that Garcilaso?s description of the ?grandeza? of this mutant radish and lettuce 
could be interpreted as an example of his admiration of Spanish foodstuffs, its appearance immediately 
following the angry denunciation of the plagues of Iberian weeds renders this claim unlikely.
 45
  Unfortunately, all of these paintings disappeared during the 1734 fire in the Palacio del Buen Retiro.
 46
  The Italian Mannerist Angelino Medoro arrived in Lima in 1600 and worked as Luis de Ria?o?s 
master. The Lime?o De Ria?o later became one of the most important muralists of seventeenth century 
Per?. Several of his most well-known works include the murals and canvases within the church in the 
town of Andahuaylillas, in the Department of Cuzco.
 47
  See Mercedes L?pez-Baralt for a detailed discussion of the impact of the Counter Reformation and the 
Council of Trent on the use and control of religious images in colonial Per?. For information about the 
Church?s policies regarding the use of images within temples as tools of conversion see Schroeder (215-
 217). 
48
  Some of Quispe Tito?s innovative techniques adopted by seventeenth century artists in Per? and 
Bolivia include:  dissolving brighter colors in liquid varnish to create muted background tones, the use of 
intense blacks, whites and reds and the infrequent use of gray (even in shadows muted reds were 
preferred to grays) (Mesa and Gisbert).
 49
  Other representations of the scene painted by artists pertaining to the Escuela Cuzque?a can also be 
found in the Museo del Arzobispo, Convento de San Francisco and the Monasterio de Santa Teresa, 
while versions painted by Escuela Quite?a artists can be found in several Ecuadorian churches and 
convents.
 50
  The most famous European representation of the Last Supper is of course da Vinci?s 1497 masterpiece 
painted on the wall of the refectory of the Monastery of Santa Mar?a della Grazie in Milan. Important 
Renaissance painters such as Andrea del Sarto (1527), Rafael and Hans Holbien created other well-
 known versions of the biblical scene. It is likely, however, that representations of this scene by artists 
working in the Americas were based on engravings by Jer?nimo Wierix or Cornelio Galle who had in 
turn based their work on a canvass painted by de Poussin (H. Schenone 168), the seventeenth century 
French painter best known for his baroque renderings of biblical and mythological scenes.
 51
  The three paintings I have in mind are:  ?Altar de la ?ltima cena. Serie de la procesi?n del Corpus de 
Santa Ana? circa 1680, unsigned, but attributed to the circle of Diego Quispe Titu in the Museo del 
Palacio Arzobispal Arquidi?cesis de Cuzco; ?La ?ltima cena? by Marcos Zapata, mid-eighteenth century 
located in Cuzco Cathedral, ?La ?ltima cena? and an unsigned canvas based on an de Bolswert engraving 
(Mesa) in the Monasterio de Santa Teresa in Cuzco.
 52
  In his study of the various meanings and uses of the cuy throughout the Andes, Morales rather 
inexplicably asserts, ?There are four such paintings featuring the cuy as part of the Last Supper and all of 
them come from the Quito school. Two paintings are signed by Miguel de Santiago around 1670; one of 
them is kept in the Cathedral of Cuzco, Peru and one in the Museum of the Convent of San Diego, Quito, 
Ecuador? (100). He goes on to mention an unsigned version of  ?The Last Supper? featuring a cuy in the 
Convent of Santa Clara in Quito, as well as a mural version in the Cathedral of Quito painted by 
Bernardo Rodriguez y Jaramillo (ibid.).
 53
  An exception to this tendency is the series of anonymous, seventeenth century Flemish woodcuts 
housed in the Staatliche Museum in Berlin. In these pieces, a roasted lamb is placed upright on a central 
platter which serves as the focal point for the image, while Jesus? right hand touches the outer rim of the 
dish-- apparently reaching for a morsel to feed to his distraught disciples. It is unclear whether the 
Wierix or Galle engravings depicted the lamb in their versions of  ?The Last Supper.?
 54
  Zapata is widely considered to be the most important painter in eighteenth century Per? (Mesa 25). He 
was a prolific artist and left more than two hundred canvases dated from the years 1748-1764 (ibid.). 
Zapata?s paintings were requested from as far away as Santiago de Chile and Huamahuaca, Argentina. In 
148
 1755 he was hired to paint fifty-five canvases for the Cuzco Cathedral, a job which he completed by 
frequently filling in enormous spaces with forests, birds, fruit and flowers instead of strictly reproducing 
traditional religious iconography (Mesa and Gisbert 408). Zapata?s careful balance of vivid colors and 
his particular affection for tones of blue and red were widely adopted by Cuzque?an artists during the 
second half of the eighteenth century (Mesa 25). In 1773 Zapata was jailed for unknown reasons at 
which point he disappears from the historical record (Mesa and Gisbert 408-409).   
55 Passiflora quadrangularis, a slightly acidic tree fruit native to tropical South American and the 
Caribbean.
 56
  While the other two versions of the Last Supper mentioned above do not include such detailed 
representations of Andean foodstuffs beyond the presence of the cuy, they do feature numerous red 
uchus scattered across the tablecloth. Quispe Tito?s Danza de Salom? and Comida de la Sagrada Familia
 in the San Sebasti?n church also features uchu spread across the dinner tables. I have not been able to 
find any reference to this curious detail in any Latin American art history text and I am still not sure what 
this inclusion might represent.
 57
  While the golden challis placed in front of Jesus in this painting resembles those of most classic 
versions of the Last Supper, it could be argued that the blood tinted liquid within the glass jars upon the 
table contain chicha morada and not wine. Indeed, the jars do not resemble the beaker like receptacles of 
most Renaissance versions of the supper and the ceramic jugs lying at the foot of the table bear a striking 
resemblance to the chicha jugs represented in the murals of Quechua festivals in the principal cloister of 
the Beaterio de las Nazarenas in Cuzco. Although the two individual cups visible in the Zapata painting 
are V shaped, they are glass and not wooden like the Incaic q?ero cups.
 58
  Other striking examples of the integration of Andean fruits and animals in the pictorial representation 
of biblical scenes appear inside the Capilla de la Virgen de la Concepci?n in the community of 
Lahualahua near Ocongate and in Ocongate?s (department of Cuzco). In Lahualahua, the depiction of the 
saints and the passion of Christ are framed with a landscape filled with chirimoyas, granadillas, parrots 
and viscachas, while in Ocongate tropical fruits typical of the Peruvian rainforest fill the baskets painted 
on the church?s interior walls.
 59
  In the interest of propagating the decrees of the Council of Trent throughout Per?, the Segundo 
Concilio Limense was convened by the Church. This Second Council was particularly committed to 
enforcing Trent?s twenty-fifth decree entitled ?Invocaci?n, veneraci?n y reliquias de los santos, y a las 
im?genes sacras?. As a result, the Second Council ordered:  ?. . . que los sacerdotes tengan gran 
diligencia y cuidado en todo aquello que hace al ornato y autoridad de los oficios divinos que se 
celebran. . .que los obispos visiten las ym?genes y las que hallaren mal hechas e indecentes o las 
aderecen o quien del todo? (qtd. in L?pez-Baralt 83-84).
149
 Chapter III:
 Representations of ?Outside Cooks? in Contemporary Quechua 
Cultural Texts
 Cookery is the most ancient of the arts, for Adam was born hungry; and the infant, scarcely comes into 
the world, utters cries which the breast of the nurse can only still.         
        Anselme Brillat-Savarin   Physiology of Taste
 The previous chapter discussed the manner in which Incan aqllakuna-- the first 
professional cooks in the Andes?used their culinary skills and knowledge to satisfy 
the appetites of voracious deities and demanding Incan rulers. In Tahuantinsuyu, when 
aqlla cooks prepared the yawar?anco for the sacred ?itua festival, they implemented 
their culinary skill as a tool for ordering the chaos of disease, warfare and extreme 
weather of an entire empire. If the aqllakuna of pre-colonial Per? prepared so as to 
protect the citizens of an immense empire during the coming year, the cooks presented 
in the following Quechua cultural texts utilize their culinary knowledge in order to 
improve their own socio-economic status (as well as that of their family and children). 
In the contemporary Quechua texts considered in this chapter and in chapter four, 
culinary skills help women to earn money to support themselves and their families, 
gain independence from abusive spouses, deceive and enchant arrogant lovers, exact 
revenge on an enemy, or even to carry out malevolent deeds against innocent parties.
 The meals prepared by contemporary Quechua women who work in restaurants, 
markets and homes throughout the Andes give a certain pattern to daily, weekly and 
yearly existence, since in many parts of the world, annual cultural timetables are 
150
 comprised of a series of high points marked by ?? much-anticipated meals, featuring 
relevant foods. The collective exuberance helped organize the cyclical gathering, 
planting, harvesting, shifting of herds, going to sea? (Symons 163). Many 
anthropologists, sociologists and literary critics have pointed out that in its repetitive 
presence in daily life, food serves an important role in ordering the lives of individuals 
and entire cultures (McGee 18; Wood 52; Gusfield 72; Douglas 54; Sceats 126; 
Symons 160). In this way, the recurring, ritualistic aspects of the meal contributes to 
the creation of a sense of structure in our lives (McGee 18). In the close-readings 
presented in this chapter it becomes clear that the appearance of food and cooking 
contribute to the thematic and symbolic meanings, as well as the temporal and spatial 
organization of many texts. In the textual analyses presented in this chapter (and in 
chapter four), it becomes clear that important moments in a text are often signaled by a 
departure from structured, daily meals, or the alteration of the quality or quantity of a 
frequently consumed ingredient or dish. When the act of cooking or consuming food 
breaks from typical daily rhythms, an important transition or locus of meaning 
frequently appears.
 Struggling for Socio-Economic Stability and the ?Everyday Practice? of 
Cooking:
 In addition to the role which food plays in ordering and providing meaning to 
temporal cycles in both domestic (inside) and public (outside) spaces, the economic 
exchanges associated with preparing, selling and consuming a meal in an ?outside? 
space also affects larger socio-economic (and sometimes political) struggles and 
151
 structures. Utilizing the categories of ?inside? and ?outside? discussed in the 
introduction, the close-readings presented below explores representations of ?outside 
cooks? which appear in contemporary Quechua texts pertaining to the genres of:  novel, 
testimonio and photography. In each of these texts, ?outside cooks? are presented as 
determined, resourceful Quechua woman who market their culinary knowledge in order 
to increase their socio-economic independence and influence. 
The well-known food historian Jean Fran?ois Revel, identifies two types of 
cuisine:  ?popular? (developed within a particular region and perfected in the home) 
and ?erudite? (utilizes ?exotic? ingredients from far-away lands and is developed by a 
professional chef, historically this cuisine was destined for royal or aristocratic tables) 
(19). The historian praises ?popular? cuisine on many counts:  
[this cuisine] has the advantage of being linked to the soil? based on age-old 
skills, transmitted unconsciously by way of imitation and habit, of applying 
methods of cooking patiently tested and associated with certain cooking utensils 
and recipients prescribed by a long tradition. It is this cuisine that can be said to 
be unexportable. (ibid.) 
?Erudite? cuisine on the other hand, is based on ?invention renewal, experimentation? 
it also risks falling into the sort of pointless complication . . . into a dangerous form of 
the Baroque, thus impelling amateurs to return periodically to the cuisine whose roots 
lie in the products of the land? (ibid. 19-20). In this formulation, ?erudite? cuisine is 
deliberately created, while ?popular? cuisine is learned unconsciously. Although not 
mentioned by Revel, it is also clear that the elaboration of ?erudite?, ?haute?, or 
?courtly? cuisines is a realm generally dominated by men, while women transmit what 
he calls ?popular? or ?regional? cuisine to their daughters, generation after generation. 
152
 The cuisine prepared by the Quechua cooks represented in the following texts is 
more ?popular? than ?erudite?, more ?regional? than ?exotic?; the Quechua cooks 
generally learn their skills by watching a mother?s, grandmother?s, or neighbor?s 
elaboration of dishes, not by reading a cookbook, watching television cooking shows, 
or attending a culinary arts academy. The ingredients for the meals prepared by most 
Quechua cooks can be readily purchased at the nearby market, or harvested from their 
own fields, while it is unlikely that their recipes will be exported to the kitchens of 
faraway lands. Nonetheless, these so-called ?popular? cuisines nourish the majority of 
the world?s people and play a more central role in ordering the everyday lives of most 
families and communities than any ?special occasion?, ?internationalized? erudite 
cuisine. In pre-colonial, colonial and contemporary Per?, skillful Quechua cooks have 
realized that their familiarity with Andean agricultural cycles and food markets allows 
them to acquire the freshest ingredients at the best prices. Their knowledge of Quechua 
culinary traditions then helps them to transform these local goods into tasty dishes that 
can be sold (with a higher profit margin) to hungry customers in markets, street 
corners, chicher?as, or restaurants. Thus, the income earned from the marketing of this 
?popular? culinary knowledge provides many cooks ?including those who work in 
Andean markets and chicher?as, as well as those represented in Quechua texts-- with 
enough cash to attain a certain degree of economic independence. 
Although women make up the majority of ?outside cooks? in Cuzco (and the 
overwhelming majority of those working ?inside?), the kitchens of the city?s finest 
hotels (which also pay the highest wages) usually hire only male cooks who have 
studied ?erudite? ?European? or ?International? cuisines in cooking schools in Lima.1
153
 Even the smaller tourist-oriented restaurants generally hire men to run their kitchens, 
while relegating equally skilled female cooks to serve as poorly paid prep cooks. In 
Cuzco?s Mercado Central (or in any of the city?s dozens of chicher?as), however, 
Quechua women work at least six days per week preparing platefuls ?popular? cuisine; 
reasonably priced soups and segundos which fuel local workers and students, as well as 
the scores of runa who arrive from the countryside in search of work. While many of 
these women work sixty hours or more each week and agree that cooking 
professionally is hot, tiring work, most of them contend that cooking is a safe and 
profitable job which provides them with both a cash wage to pay for their family?s 
needs and enough left over food to provide an important portion of their family?s 
weekly calories.2 Thus, in their role as the providers of meals (as well as advice, 
conversation and gossip), Quechua women who work as professional cooks often 
increase their personal and economic power, allowing them to achieve a degree of 
independence and influence that remains largely unattainable for women of similar 
socio-economic and educational backgrounds who work in occupations unrelated to 
?outside? food preparation and/or distribution. 
In the texts explored below, cooks are generally depicted as agents who make 
their own choices, rather than simply accepting the imposed will of others. ?Outside? 
cooks in particular are portrayed as women who actively pursue their own goals and 
shape the trajectories of their own lives. The representations of cooks in the Quechua 
cultural texts explored below reveal this positive aspect of the occupation, while also 
presenting many of the obstacles and prejudices which cooks must often overcome. 
Although the novel, testimonio and photographs explored below do not provide 
154
 detailed representations of food and its preparation and consumption, these texts do 
focus on important social standing and roles played by cooks throughout the Andes.
 When considering the aesthetic representations of ?outside cooks? and their 
food-universe in the pages that follow, the concept of m?tis serves as a useful category 
of meaning for recognizing the multiple skills and talents displayed by these women. 
The character trait of m?tis was much admired by the Greeks and can be understood as 
combining:  
flair, wisdom, forethought, subtlety of mind, deception, resourcefulness, 
vigilance, opportunism, various skills and experience acquired over the years. It 
is applied in situations which are transient, shifting, disconcerting, and 
ambiguous, situations which do not lend themselves to precise measurement, 
exact calculation, or rigorous logic.  (Detienne and Vernant qtd. in Scott 
Domination 164)
 As we will see repeatedly in the close-readings that follow, the ?outside cook? must 
often display m?tis when dealing with employers, customers, neighbors, husbands, or 
mythical beings.3 A cook?s careful use of m?tis is just one of the ?tactics? she may 
utilize in actively defending herself and her family from an oftentimes inhospitable 
social, economic and political environment. 
The Historical Rise of the Restaurant, the Chicher?a and the ?Outside 
Cook?:
 Rather than look up to those who demand power, we must accept that, somehow, cooks--seemingly so 
meek and enchained?nevertheless run things
       Michael Symons   A History of Cooks and Cooking
 In remembering a time before cooks the great gastronomical writer Brillat-
 Savarin wistfully sighs:
155
 First parents of the human race, whose feastings are historical, what did you not 
lose for a ruddy apple, and what would you not have given for a truffled turkey 
hen? But in your Earthly Paradise you had no cooks, no fine confectioners!          
I weep for you! (Physiology of taste 414)
 In a footnote of his Journal of a Tour to the Helvides dated August 15, 1773, Brillat-
 Savarin?s contemporary James Boswell, declares that he has finally formulated an 
adequate definition for humans. He pronounces:
 My definition of Man is, ?a Cooking Animal?. The beasts have memory, 
judgment, and all the faculties and passions of our mind, in a certain degree, but 
no beast is a cook. While a trick monkey might roast chesnuts, Man alone can 
dress a good dish; and every man whatever is more or less a cook, in seasoning 
what he himself eats. (qtd. in Symons 34)
 While humans are without a doubt a ?cooking animal?, cooking has not always been 
considered a profession. While Greek comedies such as Aritophanes? Masters of the 
Frying Pan, Men of Dinnerville and Aioloscion feature cooks as central characters and 
represent scenes in which Athenians travel to the marketplace in order to hire a cook 
for a special meal, the public restaurant serving food prepared by a professional cook 
only emerges around the time of the French Revolution. Factors leading to this 
?restaurant revolution? include the sudden unemployment of scores of cooks who had 
previously worked in aristocratic households, as well as the French desire to improve 
upon the English custom of taking meals in taverns (Symons 41, 290). Brillat-Savarin 
defines the owner of these new gastronomic institutions in the following terms:  ?A 
restaurateur is anyone whose business consists in offering to the public a repast which 
is always ready, and whose dishes are served in set portions at set prices, on the order 
of those people who wish to eat them? (Physiology of Taste 309). He also observes that 
with the rise of the restaurant, culinary art is stimulated by cooks who realize ?a highly 
156
 worthy recipe for rago?t can make the fortune of its inventor, cupidity, that power of 
powers, fires all the imaginations and puts every cook to work? (ibid.).
 The rise of restaurants and professional cooks in the Andes parallels the 
emergence of large concentrations of transient populations in colonial mining and 
commercial centers such as Potos?, Huancavelica and Cuzco (Cieza de Le?n 1: ch. I). 
The Quechua and Spanish men working in these cities were unlikely to have the time 
or the knowledge to prepare their own meals and as Cieza de Le?n disapprovingly 
remarks, many of the indigenous men working in Potos? spent their daily wages 
indulging their cravings with any number of dishes offered by the Quechua cooks in the 
plaza (1: ch. CX). Although the emerging market economy in colonial Latin America 
encouraged the exploitation of Native American labor (particularly in the mining 
industry), it also created economic opportunities for indigenous women who worked as 
independent sellers, market women, cooks, owners of dry goods stores, or even long-
 distance traders (Socolow 41). These skillful entrepreneurs left records indicating their 
knowledge of Spanish commercial law, their ownership of property and adeptness in 
managing to pass these properties onto their chosen heirs, thus taking advantage of 
European laws of inheritance and Spanish tolerance of pre-conquest social structures 
(ibid.). 
Throughout colonial Latin America, indigenous women often specialized in the 
sale of locally produced alcoholic beverages:  pulque in central and southern M?xico, 
aguardiente in Brasil and chicha in the Andes (Socolow 116; Llosa 115).4 In 
contemporary Per? women still dominate the business of selling chicha. As mentioned 
in chapter one, some women sell their brew from buckets situated in the aisles of local 
157
 market, although the local chicher?a remains the most important space for the 
preparation, sale and consumption of chicha throughout Andean cities and towns.5
 Ironically, the economic and social freedoms that result from a woman?s work in either 
a colonial or contemporary chicher?a, market food stall, or a restaurant remain 
unattainable for higher class women whose social position precludes them from 
working in a public (and to a great extent, even her own) kitchen (Socolow 114). In a 
similar argument, Silva Dias demonstrates how the marginal position of poor women 
and slaves working as cooks, bakers, street vendors and shop owners in nineteenth 
century Brasil actually allowed them to penetrate complex webs of street trading, 
bribes and small scale speculation which helped them to achieve solvency in their food 
businesses.
 Although the alcoholic beverage called chicha can be made from fermented 
maize, quinua, ca?ihua, ch?u?o, peanuts, algarrobo or molle bush seeds (and sometimes 
mixed with berries to create the slightly sweet frutillada), the Incas preferred maize 
chicha which they considered a sacred beverage and when specially brewed, worthy of 
serving as a sacrifice for their gods. Cobo?s description of this Andean liquor is worth 
quoting at length, as it aptly sums up the colonizers? contradictory attitude towards the 
brew; while they denounced it as unchristian and filthy, they also oversaw the 
production their own ?clean? batches for special occasions.
 Debajo de este nombre de chicha se comprehenden todas las bebidas que usaban los 
naturales deste Nuevo Mundo en lugar de vino, y con que muy frecuentemente se 
embriagan; al cual vicio son tan inclinados, que ni han aprovechado haberse convertido 
a nuestra Santa Fe . . . ni el trato y comunicaci?n con los espa?oles, ni los castigos que 
hacen en ellos sus curas y las justicias, para que se aparten d?l . . . H?cese la chicha de 
muchas cosas, acomod?ndose cada naci?n a aquellas semillas y frutas que m?s en 
abundancia produce su tierra, para hacer chicha dellas. Unas chichas se hacen de ocas, 
yucas y otras ra?ces; otras, de qu?nua y del fruto del molle? pero la chicha de todas y 
que generalmente se bebe en esta tierra, la cual, como vino precioso, tiene el primer 
158
 lugar entre todas las dem?s bebidas de los indios, es la que se hace de ma?z ? (Cobo 1: 
bk. IV, ch. IV)
 With the arrival of the Spaniards who called the Andean alcohol by the name of an 
island brew from either the Caribbean or the Canaries, the Quechua word aqa was 
widely replaced by the Antillean word chicha (Horkheimer 82). 
The chichera elaborates her brew following one of two methods:  Wi?apo 
chicha is made from fermented grains that have been soaked and then allowed to 
germinate for several days, while moqo chicha is produced from grains that have been 
chewed (usually by either young girls who have not yet tried coca, or by old women, 
depending on the region and the chichera) and then expectorated, allowing for the 
saliva to expedite the fermentation process (personal communication, Rumalda 
Quispe).6 Many Quechua connoisseurs of the alcoholic beverage attest to moqo aqa?s 
superior flavor and intensity, while many urban mestizos claim prefer the more 
?hygienic? wi?apo chicha. Colonial chroniclers also expressed their disapproval with 
regards to the production of moqo aqa, although they suggest their approval of the 
variety made from germinated corn. Guaman Poma offers advice for colonial 
authorities asserting:
 Que los yndios no an de ueuer chicha mascada con la boca que ellos les llama 
moco [ma?z mascado para chicha] . . . por ser perca cosa sucia, cino que ueuan 
una chicha de ma?s nacida que ellos les llaman sura asua [chicha de ma?z 
germinado] para que los cristianos la ueua y aproeua. Y las ollas y tinajas y 
coladera y c?ntaros sean linpios?. (2: 827)
 Cobo notes the prevalence of moqo chicha throughout the Andes, as well as the 
existence of the ?cleaner? wi?apo version:
 la m?s ordinaria que beben los indios del Per? es la que se hace de ma?z 
mascado; para lo cual se ven no solo en sus pueblos, sino tambi?n en muchos de 
espa?oles donde hay concurso de indios, como en Potos?, Oruro y otros, hechos 
159
 corrillos en las plazas de indias viejas y muchachos sentados mascando ma?z, 
que no poco asco causa a los espa?oles s?lo verlo? los espa?oles tambi?n 
suelen hacer chicha de ma?z por regalo, pero h?cenla con m?s limpieza y 
curiosidad que los indios?? (Cobo 1: bk. IV ch. IV)
 Cobo?s description of chicha production in colonial Potos? bares a striking resemblance 
to an early twentieth century description of this city?s central plaza where the beverage 
was both produced and sold in small shacks:  
a red flag at the entrance signifies hay chicha while a white flag says it is all 
gone? Chicha is an alcoholic drink of peanuts or corn, masticated by the oldest 
(because they can do nothing else), hence usually toothless, women, then 
expectorated into an olla (pot), allowed to ferment, drawn off and is then ready 
for use?. ?they say? chicha is also made by presses in an entirely sanitary 
way? (Hoeppner Woods 47)7
  While chicha may have seemed unpalatable to this North American diarist, it served as 
an important symbol for Andean indigenismo in the first decades of the twentieth 
century and it continues to be enjoyed throughout the Andes at family, community and 
national celebrations, or simply as an afternoon treat.8
 In his Memorias, the famous Cuzco indigenista leader Lu?s Valc?rcel praises 
the food served in local chicher?as:
 se preparaban diversos platillos, en los que predominaba la costumbre ind?gena, 
papas con aj? molido, presas de carne, menudencias de carnero o habas con 
mote. En la preparaci?n de las comidas se utilizaban variedades de aj?, inclusive 
los muy picantes como el rocoto . . . la comida se serv?a en tres o cuatro 
platillos, teniendo como base la papa, olluco. Los platos de lujo era el conejo 
asado, el chactado, al beber chicha se hac?a una especie de desaf?o. (30-31)  
As mentioned by Hoeppner Woods, the red flag (?aqa llantu?) poking out from 
roadside shacks, market stalls and the corner store signals to thirsty customers that a 
fresh batch of chicha is ready and waiting for them inside. In her discussion of the 
indigenista movement, Weismantel points out that in its role as ?. . . an outpost of rural 
160
 and Indian cultural in the city . . . the chicher?a was a place where residents of the urban 
Andes could seek spiritual and cultural replenishment? (Cholas and Pishtacos  32).9 As 
a business woman in an urban space who frequently serves clients visiting from rural 
villages, the chichera can easily create a large social network of acquaintances and also 
amass a good deal of news and information pertaining to relationships and events 
occurring in both the city and the countryside. 
This wealth of knowledge also allows the chichera to occupy a position of local 
influence, as we will see below in the analysis Jos? Mar?a Arguedas? novel Los r?os 
profundos. As revealed in the Quechua language testimonio Autobiograf?a, the 
economic independence which a woman working in a chicher?a can potentially gain, 
allows her more freedom to make choices regarding her own living conditions since 
she no longer remains solely dependent on the support of male partners or family 
members. Similarly, the images created by the Quechua photographer Mart?n Chambi 
visually presents chicheras as a strong, confident and self-assured business women who 
are comfortable in their surroundings and with their own identity. 
In the close-readings that follow, the various representations of cooks10 --in the 
novel Los r?os profundos, the testimonio Autobiograf?a and the photographs of Mart?n 
Chambi-- portray Quechua women who use their culinary knowledge as a ?tactic? for 
improving their socio-economic status (and that of their children) and for resisting 
efforts by hegemonic societal sectors to silence their opinions, desires and cultural 
values. engaging in entrepreneurial activities in a public space.  These cooks bake, boil, 
baste and brew in a public space removed from a ?domestic sphere?. Those who 
consume the meals and beverages prepared by these women are not family members, 
161
 but paying customers and thus, the women represented in the following texts should be 
considered ?outside cooks?. 
Throughout this chapter I will repeatedly revisit the theme of food preparation 
and marketing as an empowering, everyday ritual. In the pages that follow, the acts of 
preparing, serving and selling food to others will not be considered not as a servile 
duties, but instead, as an occupation which actually allows the female cook to increase 
her economic, social and political independence and well-being. As Elizabeth Jelin 
reminds us, we must not discount the power of the ?silent rebellion? which is often 
loaded with symbolic meaning and which unfolds without the declaration of an explicit 
?discourse?, even though it is oftentimes, ?. . . more eloquent than any public 
declaration or manifesto could every be, impoverished as these always are by 
translation into a language and code of thinking that are foreign? (178).11 This chapter 
argues for the need to consider women?s work as ?outside cooks? as an important 
activity which provides them with varying degrees of economic power and which also 
functions as an undeclared (and often unperceived) resistance against a patriarchal 
society?s attempts to exclude their voices, skills, creativity and desires. 
The Representation of Rebellious Chicheras in Los r?os profundos:
 The consideration of an Arguedian novel within the context of this multi-genre 
study seems particularly appropriate given the Peruvian author?s own commitment to 
interdisciplinary projects. As Sandoval and Sandoval assert, ?It is arbitrary therefore to 
study Arguedas? literary work as independent or disconnected from his work as 
ethnographer, folklorist, compiler, translator and interpreter of legends, myths, songs 
162
 and especially from his deep preoccupation with the study of autochthonous creativity 
and culture? (xxxiii). Indeed Los r?os profundos addresses many of the cultural, 
political social, economic and historical issues presented by Arguedas in his 
ethnographies, compilations and translated texts. Within the novel the author condemns 
the feudalistic latifundio system of the Peruvian Andes, the unjust treatment of 
Quechua families forced to serve large landowners, as well as the excesses and 
hypocrisy of the ecclesiastical and civil authorities that reinforce (either passively or 
explicitly) the abusive rule of the hacendados12. During the period in which Arguedas 
was writing Los r?os profundos (prior to its 1958 publication), the military dictatorship 
of General Manuel Odr?a (1948-56) ruled Per? by simultaneously repressing the left 
and courting the favor of the landed oligarchy (Sandoval and Sandoval xxix). This 
epoch was also characterized by the escalating tensions between peasants and 
hacendados in the Andes, while the social and economic gap between the rapidly 
modernizing coast and the feudal highland society continued to widen (ibid.).  
In this historical context of heightened political, economic, social and cultural 
tensions, chapters seven ?El mot?n? and eleven ?Los colonos? stand out from the rest of 
the novel in their presentation of an inversion of the hierarchical society in which 
wealthy, non-indigenous (either mestizo or white and often coastal) men controlled all 
aspects of a community?s existence. Thus the rebellion of the chicheras in chapter 
seven and the colonos in the final chapter become instances of a pachacuti; the 
Quechua messianic notion of the ?reversal of time and space? which foretells of a return 
to the time when runa ruled the Andes, free from the oppression of European 
patriarchal society.13 Like the paintings of the Escuela cuzque?a and the segments of 
163
 Garcilaso?s narrative discussed above, these chapters of Los r?os profundos pertain to a 
long tradition of counter-discursive Quechua cultural practices and texts dating back to 
the Taqui-Oncoy movement and perhaps before. 14 These texts and practices act as 
important vehicles for the preservation of cultural identity, although their subversive 
messages may be concealed in a feigned acceptance of patriarchal, hegemonic 
discourses (as in the case of the seemingly pious artists of the Escuela Cuzque?a).
 Chapter seven of Los r?os profundos is particularly important because it demonstrates 
the potential power of rural, Quechua men and particularly women to actively demand 
a change from the oppressive and unjust status quo. Within the literary genre of a 
primarily Spanish language novel, Arguedas creates the characterizations of strong, 
independent and organized female protagonists through depictions of Quechua verbal 
defiance and popular protest.
 If the initial six chapters of this novel focus on the introspective mental 
wanderings of the first person, adolescent narrator, chapter seven disrupts these 
personal reflections when action erupts upon a collective, ?real-world? stage on the 
streets of Abancay. In this chapter, ?the famous chichera? Do?a Felipa leads a large 
group of her angry colleagues in a march to storm the warehouse where the local 
supply of salt is stored. Frustrated with the continual disappearance of the community?s 
salt cache, the chicheras become irate when they learn that the salt is being taken by 
Abancay?s wealthy hacienda owners to feed to their cows. As they march towards the 
warehouse the angry women cry out in Quechua:
 ?M?nan! ?Kunankamallan suark?aku!      [No! Only until this very moment will they rob!]
 ?Kunanmi suakuna wa?unk?aku!              [This very moment the thieves will die!]  (99-100)
164
 Arguedas? decision to frame this popular uprising around a struggle for the control of 
the town?s salt supply is not an arbitrary choice. Colonial chroniclers report that during 
religious fasts, marriage ceremonies, baptisms and certain cleansing rituals, Quechua 
religious leaders forbid the consumption of salt (Molina F?bulas y mitos 82, 100). For 
example, Father Molina reports that beginning in the year 1571, word spread among 
the runa population that huacas had once again begun to wander across the Andes 
seeking to destroy the Spanish invaders and their ?God?. Quechua religious leaders 
warned runa that in order to escape the wrath of the huacas they must reject the 
Catholic faith and prove their loyalty to the huacas:  
. . . ayunasen algunos d?as, no comiendo sal ni aj?, ni durmiendo hombre con 
mujer ni comiendo ma?z de colores, ni comiendo cosas de Castilla, ni usando 
dellas en comer ni en vestir, ni de entrar en las iglesias . . . y que desta manera 
volver?an en amor a las huacas. . . (ibid. 100)
 Since the foods that were prohibited during fasts (primarily coca, chicha, salt, colored 
maize and uchu pepper) were generally among the most esteemed and difficult to 
obtain foods, salt?s inclusion in this list of religiously regulated substances signals its 
importance within the Quechua food-universe. 
In pre-colonial times, carefully regulated systems of reciprocal exchange 
assured that certain members of an ayllu would work in salt flats extracting the vital 
mineral and then transport it to regions in which the staple condiment was scarce 
(Murra La organizaci?n econ?mica 90-91). Like coca leaves and uchu peppers, salt 
deposits were often located at a distance of several days journey from a community?s 
home base. Nevertheless, all of these goods were considered essential staples and thus 
reliable access to the products was constantly maintained through reciprocal 
agreements (ibid. 203, 205; Spalding 97). Following the conquest and the breakdown 
165
 of many of these reciprocal, ?vertical? economies, colonial corregidores capitalized on 
the importance of salt in Quechua cooking practices and its scarcity in many 
communities by requiring runa subordinates to pay onerous tribute taxes in salt which 
could then be sold at a profit to other Indians (Spalding 117). The corrupt management 
of the community salt cache in Abancay recalls the greedy salt trafficking of colonial 
corregidores and suggests that if not for the town?s chicheras and their demands for 
justice, many of the same abusive practices would continue to occur in the rural towns 
of contemporary, highland Per?. In this chapter of Los r?os profundos, the struggle for 
the control of a communal food supply (in this case salt) reflects the larger political, 
economic and cultural clashes between wealthy, white landowners, lower middleclass 
mestizos workers and impoverished Indian farm workers and indentured servants. 
Since runa consider the sharing of food with neighbors, relatives and strangers to be an 
important part of both everyday and ritual practices, hoarding food?especially that 
which was intended to be shared by the community?is considered a particularly 
deplorable transgression. 
Sparked by the failure of local authorities to fairly distribute this staple 
foodstuff, the revolt of the chicheras becomes both a turning point in the novel, as well 
as one of the text?s most memorable scenes. Until this chapter, none of the novel?s 
characters openly question the abuses committed by Abancay?s unjust landowners, 
clergy, or city officials (Cornejo Polar Los universos narrativos 134). Thus, when the 
infuriated chicheras revolt against the corrupt city officials, the event modifies both the 
novel?s rhythm and its thematic focus: ?la triste paz de Abancay recibe una desarga 
el?ctica? (ibid. 133-34). Organized by female chicheras?a group whom the town 
166
 leaders had been previously considered as economically, politically and socially 
insignificant-- this uprising explicitly addresses the hacendados? excesses. Indeed, until 
the moment of the chicheras? uprising, ?nuestra atenci?n ha estado dirigida hacia los 
problemas ?ntimos de individuos y no a grupos o fuerzas sociales . . . [ahora] es la lucha 
del pueblo contra la injusticia el gobierno, o los que gobiernan? (Castro-Klar?n 151). 
Yet from this point on, the novel deals with social instead of individual problems. The 
larger, public conflict between the chicheras/colonos and the town?s white, moneyed 
officials serves as a stage upon which Ernesto?s private identity conflict (does he 
?belong? with the former group, or the latter?) begins to unfold more explicitly (see for 
example, endnote 15).  
In all of the texts explored in this dissertation, culinary representations create 
loci for meaning and communication. In chapter one, the excerpts from interviews with 
market women and the descriptions of their workplace reveal how the spatial layout 
and organization of market stalls, the types of foods sold and prepared by each vendor 
and the manner in which these women market their products all contribute to the 
construction of hierarchies of power within the market and the development of 
economic relationships and interchanges, while also inflecting each food with a variety 
of meanings, nuances and social roles. On the other hand, chapter two demonstrated 
how carefully constructed culinary representations?either lyrical or in prose-- can 
serve as vehicles for the communication of desires and remonstrances to both human 
and divine audiences. Although Arguedas does not include many descriptions of food 
preparation or consumption in this novel, he does present a fictional example of what 
Barthes refers to as ?food transformed into situation? (21-22). In the case of the 
167
 chichera revolt in chapter seven of Los r?os profundos, the improper management of 
salt leads the chicheras to perform a ?social function? in order to regain access to the 
community?s supply of this vital foodstuff. In this novel, Arguedas uses detailed 
character constructions, evocative dialogues and the intimacy of a first person narrative 
voice to demonstrate how food?and in particular, the women who cook it?plays 
important social functions in the Andes, while also reminding readers that guaranteeing 
equitable access to foodstuffs in Per? continues to be an ongoing and as yet unresolved 
challenge.  
In chapter seven of this novel, the first triumph secured by the chicheras is the 
verbal defeat of Father Linares. As if to emphasize his calmness and purity in the face 
of the passionate anger which surrounds him, the town?s religious leader wears white 
robes which, the narrator notes, provide stark contrast to the bright, multi-colored 
garments of the infuriated Quechua women (Arguedas Los R?os Profundos 100). At 
first Ernesto relates that it was impossible for us15 to hear the Father?s voice, then 
finally the crowd hears the words that he directs ?en Quechua? to the chicheras? leader 
(ibid.). Father Linares fervently pleads (?rogaba?) with Do?a Felipe not to offend God 
and assures her that the authorities are not guilty of robbery (ibid.). The lead chichera 
responds by challenging Father Linares to answer the question that all of the chicheras 
would surely like to ask:  
?Y qui?n ha vendido la sal para las vacas de las haciendas? 
  ?Las vacas son antes que la gente, Padrecito Linares? (ibid.) 
Everyone in the town plaza hears both her question and the Padre?s weak and inevitable 
response:  ?-?No me retes hija! ?Obedece a Dios!? (ibid.). 
168
 To this demand Do?a Felipa responds both physically and verbally; inclining 
her body towards the Padre she loudly (?a voces?) and astutely answers him by turning 
his own religious rhetoric against him: ?-Dios castiga a los ladrones, Padrecito Linares?
 (ibid.). Following this satiric retort, the crowd is unable to hear the Padre?s response 
(?El padre dijo algo??). In the rules of verbal combat, a muffled reply at such a crucial 
moment clearly means defeat, while Do?a Felipa?s resounding shout (??y la mujer 
lanz? un grito??) proves her victory:  ?-?Maldita no, padrecito! ?Maldici?n a los 
ladrones!? (ibid.). In this passage, Do?a Felipa?s repeated use of the Spanish 
diminutive [-ito] when addressing Father Linares serves as a subtle insult. In the 
context of this heated exchange, the tenderness suggested by the familiar diminutive 
becomes ironic and condescending. By calling Linares ?Padrecito?, Do?a Felipa 
reminds him that he is forsaking the poor in favor of the rich and should be ashamed of 
himself. The use of the diminutive in this context can be interpreted in one of two 
ways:  the Father?s behavior makes him undeserving of the affection suggested by the 
use of this diminutive suffix, or alternately, that his actions have diminished the respect 
that his title would normally grant him, demoting him to a mere ?Padrecito?).   
Although the narrator signals that the exchange between Padre Linares and 
Do?a Felipa takes place in Quechua (?O?mos entonces las palabras del Padre. Habl? en 
quechua?), Do?a Felipa switches to Spanish in a shouted command that both closes her 
conversation with the Padre and signals her return to the group?s intended goal 
(capturing the storehouse where the heisted salt is being held). Her decision to 
transition to Spanish serves as a bold rejection of the Padre?s patronizing plea, as if to 
show him that not only can she speak his language as he speaks hers, but that she wants 
169
 him to clearly understand her decision:  ?-?Yast?! ?Avanzo, avanzo!? (ibid.). The other 
chicheras follow their leader?s code-switch and repeat after her, ??Avanzo, avanzo!? 
(ibid. 101). Cornejo Polar points out:  ?trascendiendo su motivaci?n concreta, el mot?n 
se convierte en s?mbolo de la ruptura de una de las m?s sutiles formas de dominaci?n, 
la que se ampara en la religiosidad del pueblo (Los universos narrativos 136). Indeed, 
the first uprising presented in this novel occurs when the chicheras challenge the leader 
of the town?s religious institution; a verbal rebellion which is immediately followed by 
their physical confrontation with the representatives of a despotic State.
 The shots fired by the town?s gendarmes can stop neither the women?s advance, 
nor their shouts of ??Avanzo, avanzo!? (Arguedas Los r?os profundos 101). The 
narrator/protagonist Ernesto joins this march towards the salt warehouse amid shouts 
and gunshots. The gendarmes? fire soon ceases, however, and the women successfully 
reach the deposit and begin shout orders to each other in Quechua. Upon encountering 
even more bags of salt than they had imagined, the women yell out in an 
ungrammatical Spanish directed to an absent Padre Linares:  ??Ahist? sal! ?Ahist? sal! 
?Este s? ladr?n! ?Este s? maldecido!? (ibid. 102). Do?a Felipa who so ably defeated 
Padre Linares in the pair?s verbal dual, quickly establishes order amongst the group of 
women. Until this scene at the salt warehouse the lead chichera has only been described 
in terms of the primary weapon she deployed-- her voice. Now the reader is told that 
she establishes order through her gaze over the women who dutifully distribute the salt 
amongst each other for transport to the homes of those in need. Once it becomes clear 
that Do?a Felipa commands through both aural and visual signals, the previous 
description of the leader?s voice is enhanced by an account of her features. Her 
170
 physical traits and the play of light and shadow that both obscures and accentuates 
them add to the mystery and authority of the woman:  
Del rostro ancho de la chichera, de su frente peque?a, de sus ojos apenas 
visibles, brotaba una fuerza reguladora que envolv?a, que deten?a y ahuyentaba 
el temor. Su sombrero reluciente le daba sombra hasta los p?rpados. Un 
contraste hab?a entre la frente que permanec?a en la sombra y su mand?bula 
redonda, su boca cerrada y los ojos negros de viruela que se exhib?an al sol . 
(ibid. 103) 
Although her eyes are ?barely visible?, her forehead remains hidden by a shadow and 
her mouth remains shut, Do?a Felipa?s still exudes a ?fearful? and ?regulatory force? 
that silently orders her followers to obey. The narrator reinforces the superior quality of 
her leadership noting that while ?la violencia del ?xito? caused the other women to 
forget the colonos trapped into service at the hacienda of Patibamba, Do?a Felipa made 
sure that they too would receive an ample supply of salt (ibid.104).
 Words once again become both weapons and shields as a group of defiant 
chicheras makes its way through town towards the Patibamba hacienda. From their 
balconies, Abancay?s white and mestizo residents insult the chicheras, equating their 
challenge of hegemonic excesses and their economic power with sexual promiscuity:  
?-?Ladronas! ?Descomulgadas! . . . -?Prostitutas, cholas asquerosas!? (ibid.). In 
response, the chicheras choose to intone a Quechua carnival tune which serves as both 
a shield and a victory song capable of drowning out all of the insults and providing ?un 
ritmo especial, casi de ataque, a los que march?bamos a Patibamba? (ibid. 105). In 
extolling the hidden beauty and richness of the Pati tree in response to the verbal 
abuses hurled at them by the townspeople, it is as if the chicheras are smugly scolding 
the town?s leaders for having underestimated their previously ignored (hidden) power
171
 (?Patibamballay/patisachachay/ sonk?oruruykik?a/k?orimantas 
kask?a/sonk?ruruykik?a/k?ollk?emantas kask?a . . . (ibid.). ?Oh, my little Pati tree!/from 
my dear Patibamba/the core of your fruit/it?s made of gold/the core of your fruit/it?s 
made of silver . . .). Yet even while the singing continues, the ?resplandor se apagaba? 
as Ernesto observes thick clouds of dust that begin to cover the red flowers lining the 
road, thus foreshadowing a somber end to this temporary triumph (ibid.).
 The chicheras seem surprised that their arrival in Patibamba is not greeted with 
a joyful welcome. The silence and closed doors of the servants? shacks seems to anger 
the chicheras and one of them exclaims in Quechua with a voice both ?varonil? and 
?llena de amenaza?:  ??Pim manchachinku, merdas?? (Who makes all you shits 
afraid?) (ibid. 106). Once the scared and silent women finally emerge from their 
homes, the voice of this chichera becomes ?tierna y dulce? as she quickly organizes the 
distribution of the plundered goods and emphasizes the women?s right to accept what is 
being offered:  ??Sal del pueblo, para ti, madrecita! . . . ?Salid a recibir, madrecitas!?
 grit? entonces en quechua . . .? (ibid.).  
On their way to Patibamba, the chicheras? signal their triumph through song and 
indeed, their use of songs, speeches and insults establishes their verbal dominance over 
Abancay?s gendarmes, ecclesiastics and the State?s military regiment. If the Quechua 
servants of the Patibamba hacienda suffer in silence, the chicheras represent a segment 
of the city?s population that refuses to remain quiet in the face of oppression. Ernesto?s 
schoolmate Romero expresses a sentiment shared by Padre Linares and many of the 
townspeople when he asserts, ?las chicheras se defienden o se vengan con la boca? 
(ibid. 219). One of the most important creative vehicles for speech deployed by the 
172
 Quechua men and women of Abancay is the composition of improvised lyrics to 
accompany well-known huayno songs. Certeau?s conception of the role of language as 
a ?semiotic tactic? helps us to understand the power of the chichera?s improvised 
insults and song texts in this chapter:   
Whereas grammar watches over the ?propriety? of terms, rhetorical alterations 
(metaphorical drifts, elliptical condensations, metonymic miniaturizations, etc.) 
point to the use of language by speakers in particular situations of ritual or 
actual linguistic combat. (39) 
In constructing the dialogues, insults and songs of the chicheras in this chapter, 
Arguedas demonstrates how Quechua speakers often use linguistic ingenuity as both a 
defensive and offensive ?tactic? when confronted by the aggressions of hegemonic 
societal sectors. The chicheras in Los r?os profundos execute these ?rhetorical 
alterations? through their use of:  semantic couplets, scatological imagery and insults, 
allusion to well-known huayno lyrics, sarcastic use of terms of endearment and the 
posing of provocative, rhetorical questions.  
The chicheras are the only townspeople who dare to compose insulting verses in 
the very presence of the huayrurus.16 Shortly after their uprising, one of the women 
asks a harpist to play a festive jaylli song which she then accompanies with celebratory 
verses of her own creation (presented by Arguedas in both Quechua and a Spanish 
translation).17  The song begins by insulting the strength of an unnamed huayruru 
?manchak? wayruru? [?frightened huayruru?], whose incompetence is affirmed first 
through repeated attacks on his competence, ?mana atinchu/mana atinchu? [?he isn?t 
capable/he isn?t capable?], then through skeptical, ironic questions and exclamations 
signaling doubt, ?maytak?atinchu/Imanallautas atinman? [?In what way is he 
capable??/ ?Of what would he be capable?? ], ??way! atinman? [ ?ha! As if he would be 
173
 capable? ] (Arguedas Los r?os profundos 187).18 This prelude of disparaging insults 
aimed at the soldier is followed by a clean, concise affirmation of the powers of his 
adversary, Do?a Felipa (ibid.). 
Do?a Felipa makinwan with Do?a Felipa?s hand
 Do?a Felipa kallpanwan with Do?a Felipa?s strength
 This semantic couplet creates a stark contrast to the opening lines of the jaylli which 
present a circus of verbal forms manipulating the verb ?atiy? (?to be able; capable of?).
 As the bold chichera intones this jaylli, customers nervously eye a soldier who 
begins to stand up and move towards the center of the room. Their fears of reprisal are 
dispelled, however, when it turns out that the off duty official only wants to dance. The 
participation of the soldier in the festivities seems to embolden the singer even more. 
As if she could not feel content simply denying the strength of the huayruru in the 
initial verses, the final lines of the chichera?s improvised song shift to a direct attack on 
the unnamed soldier?s filthy, vapid nature. ?Huayruruy/huayrury? [?My soldier, my 
soldier?] she sarcastically coos (using the subtle possessive suffix [-y]) and then 
abruptly demands, ?imallamantas kaswanki? [?and just what are you made of??]. The 
performer dares to answer her question in a most insulting fashion (albeit using 
carefully constructed semantic couplets) declaring, ??Way! titillamantas kask?anki,/ 
?Way!, karkallamantas kask?anki? [?Ha! You are only made of lead / Ha! You are only 
made of cow pies] (ibid. 189). The scene further emphasizes the power of words in the 
struggle between the chicheras and the oppressive ruling groups within Abancay.
 Rama discusses at length the importance of huayno music in terms of both the 
form and the content of Arguedas? fiction:
174
 . . .  el tema profundo de un cuento o una novela pueda transitar, paralelamente 
al desarrollo de la narraci?n, por la seria de ?huaynos? que se intercalan, los 
cuales lo reinterpretan l?ricamente al tiempo que lo trasladan a otro plano, de 
naturaleza simb?lica, que es el que autoriza la comunicaci?n con un universo de 
diferentes valores. (215)19
 In Los r?os profundos, songs often appear in emotionally charged situations, in 
presenting each huayno or jaylli?s original Quechua lyrics along with the Spanish 
translation, Arguedas creatively resolves the complex task of expressing Quechua 
language dialogue within the context of a Spanish language novel. As evident in the 
above-cited song, the chichera expresses her anger and contempt for the civil guards 
without having to exchange any words with her enemy.
 In both interviews and critical essays Arguedas often emphasized the richness 
of the Quechua oral tradition asserting, ? es una de las literaturas m?s bellas y 
estremecedoras de todos los tiempos, testimonio de su visi?n del hombre y de la tierra y 
del proceso de dominaci?n y de resistencia, frecuentemente triunfante a esta 
dominaci?n, a que estuvieron sometidos desde la invasi?n hisp?nica? (qtd. in Larco 
27).20 Arguedas? use of song as an important vehicle for the expression of creative 
dissent should not surprise us then, for the author was a great champion of the Quechua 
oral tradition and a dedicated compiler and translator of Quechua language songs. In 
his prologue to the collection El canto Kechwa Arguedas asserts: 
No encontr? ninguna poes?a que expresara mejor mis sentimientos que la poes?a 
de las canciones kechwas. Los que hablamos este idioma sabemos que el 
kechwa supera el castellano en la expressi?n de algunos sentimientos que son 
los m?s caracter?siticos del coraz?n ind?gena:  la ternura, el cari?o, el amor a la 
naturaleza. (El canto Kechwa 10)
 As we have seen above, Quechua songs also serve as powerful tools for attacking 
adversaries and contesting political, economic and cultural repression.
175
 Yet what is the relationship between these women?s profession as chicha 
brewers and their organization of this act of civil disobedience? Of course their skills as 
preparers of fermented corn beer do not directly prepare them for the organization of a 
successful protest against corrupt town leaders. Their jobs as chicheras do, however, 
provide them with the necessary economic, social and organizational strength to carry 
out such a protest. Additionally, working as the owners and employees of chicher?as 
means that these women constantly circulate within an important space for socializing 
and exchanging news, ideas and gossip. Perhaps more importantly, the chicheras? 
economic independence gives them the necessary power, confidence and social clout to 
organize the uprising described in this chapter. Thus the chichera?s occupation provides 
her with the necessary confidence, social ties and knowledge of local politics to 
organize this sort of protest. 
While Do?a Felipa and the other chicheras are certainly the most notorious and 
vocal cooks presented in Los r?os profundos, they are not the only important cooking 
characters represented within the text. In the final two chapters of the novel, the 
importance of the boarding school cook and her kitchen also in Ernesto?s life becomes 
evident and in the penultimate chapter, Ernesto announces what the reader has already 
assumed, ?la cocinera era mi amiga, de m? y de Palacitos? (Arguedas Los r?os 
profundos 198). The kindhearted cook offers her kitchen as a safe space in which weak 
and lonely characters such as Ernesto, Palacitos and the mentally ill Opa can find 
refuge and solace. 
Ernesto?s tendency to find comfort within the kitchen and amongst cooks 
becomes clear in the opening pages of the novel. When the Viejo decides to insult the 
176
 adolescent and his father by offering them accommodations within the Quechua 
servants? kitchen Ernesto asserts, ?Yo no me sent?a mal en esa habitaci?n. Era muy 
parecida a la cocina en la que me obligaron a vivir en mi infancia; el cuarto oscuro 
donde recib? los cuidados, la m?sica, los cantos y el dulc?sima hablar de las sirvientas 
indias . . .? (10). This incident is key in establishing Ernesto?s ambiguous position in 
the dialectical misti vs. runa Andean universe created within the novel. While his father 
feels insulted, Ernesto?s personal history allows him to feel at home in the dingy 
kitchen. Ernesto describes the humble kitchen within the Viejo?s estate in great detail:
 Era una cocina para indios el cuarto que nos dieron. Manchas de holl?n sub?an 
al techo desde la esquina donde hab?a un a tullpa ind?gena, un fog?n de piedras. 
Poyos de adobe rodeaban la habitaci?n. Un catre de cadera tallada, con una 
especie de techo, de tela roja, perturbaba la humildad de la cocina. (ibid.) 
This dark but familiar interior constructed of wood, stone and adobe reminds Ernesto of 
his childhood quarters and also resembles the boarding school with its ?paredes negras? 
and ?foco opaco, cubierto de manchas que las moscas dejaban? (ibid.198). 
Nonetheless, he feels secure in these kitchens and amongst the women who work there.  
In his History of Cooks and Cooking Symons asserts, ?. . . while most novelists 
keep cooks in the background, they do tend to deal more than other creative artists with 
personal feelings, intimate relationships and everyday experiences. In their one-to-one 
form, novels are adapted to the private . . . to the extent that they actually do represent 
women?s lives, they do not entirely ignore cooks (27-28). Given his own much 
publicized biography, it should not surprise us that Arguedas gives cooks important 
roles in this novel both as competent political figures in the public space and also as 
nurturing individuals within the private realm. The author?s own discussion of his early 
years helps us to understand why he feels a special connection with Quechua cooks. In 
177
 a 1970 interview with Ariel Dorfman, the author places special importance on the 
moment when, as a small boy, his stepmother sent him to eat and sleep with the 
Quechua servants in the kitchen. Arguedas asserts, ?Nunca le podr? agradecer 
suficientemente a mi madrastra tal ?castigo?, pues fue en esa cocina donde conoc? a los 
indios, donde empec? a amarlos? (Larco 25). Thus, the experiences of the young 
Arguedas are echoed by Ernesto?s feelings of solace within the kitchens and amongst 
the cooks he encounters throughout the novel.
 While the boarding school cook offers Ernesto refuge within her kitchen during 
his months in Abancay, she also accompanies him in one of the most emotionally 
infused scenes of the novel?the death of the Opa. When the entire world seems either 
to abuse or to cast away the Opa, the cook always allows the woman to rest in her 
kitchen. When it becomes clear that the Opa?s plague-induced death looms near, the 
kind cook prays ?Our Father? in Quechua over the body of the pallid woman and asks 
the Christian god to deliver the Opa from further suffering. Ernesto and the cook 
somberly contemplate the body of the dead woman in silence before the adolescent 
rushes off to announce the contagious death to Padre Linares. Before being taken away 
by the Padre, Ernesto pleads with the cook to follow the Quechua custom of washing 
his clothes if he dies, instead of burning them; the cook receives this morbid request in 
silence (Arguedas Los r?os profundos 222). 
A few days later?and despite Padre Linares? own initial silence with regards to 
the health of the cook-- Ernesto assumes and guesses the worst:  ??Muri?! ?le dije; 
porque su respuesta, tan r?pida, me pareci? que lo delataba? (ibid. 234). Ernesto?s 
strong connection to the cook is further emphasized by his ability to presume the horrid 
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 details of her lonely death. Padre Linares admits that she did die in isolation in the 
hospital and without asking Ernesto accurately provides the conclusion to the tragic 
story:  ?--Rapada; sin cabellera la enterraron? (ibid.). When the Padre asks how he 
came to know these details, the adolescent simple replies, ?Por presentimiento, Padre?, 
for at this point there is little more that he can say (ibid.). 
As demonstrated by the examples above, Arguedas presents a richly nuanced, 
multi-lingual representation of Quechua cooks and chicheras in Los r?os profundos. 
Through his careful manipulation of narrative point-of-view, detailed construction of 
character and complex and use of doubly inflected, bilingual dialogue and song, 
Arguedas introduces the reader to various political, economic, cultural and personal 
conflicts at a number of levels. Within the novel, meaning is constructed outside ?with 
references to the political, economic and social contexts in which the novel unfolds and 
which inspire the active resistance of Abancay?s chicheras--, while more intimate, 
inside meanings associated with Ernesto?s personal relationship to cooks and their 
kingdoms of the kitchen, play an equally important role in the development of the 
narrative. 
Representations of Chicheras and Chicher?as in the photographs of Mart?n 
Chambi: 
   While Arguedas? Los r?os profundos is undoubtedly the most aesthetically 
nuanced narrative representation of the political, economic, creative and affective 
power of Quechua cooks and chicheras, the photographs of Mart?n Chambi are 
certainly the most complex and beautiful visual depictions of Quechua cooks and their 
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 food-universe. Chambi?s images often depict chicheras, chicher?as and the everyday 
consumption of food and drink in the city and surrounding regions of early to mid-
 twentieth century Cuzco. The meanings, contradictions and symbolism created and 
captured within these photographs will be the subject of the following pages.
 In her collection of essays entitled On Photography, Susan Sontag presents her 
title subject as:  a powerful and potentially dangerous art; a tool for capturing ?real? life 
and ?real? people in a particular historical moment and space; and an aesthetic form that 
concomitantly encourages the photographer?s participation in and alienation from the 
surrounding world (Sontag 4). Like written texts, photographs are artistic creations 
carefully crafted and manipulated by the eye of an artist, although as viewers we tend 
to approach photographed images ?not as statements about the world so much as pieces 
of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire? (ibid.). Nevertheless, we 
must remember ?the camera?s rendering of reality must always hide more than it 
discloses? and that as in the case of interpreting a written text, a photograph also 
necessarily contains multiple meanings (ibid. 23). The interpreter of a photographic 
text should therefore listen to the advice offered by the image itself:  ?There is the 
surface. Now think?or rather feel, intuit?what is beyond it? (ibid.). One should also 
realize, ?photographs, which cannot themselves explain anything, are inexhaustible 
invitations to deduction, speculation, and fantasy? (ibid.). This invitation tempts many 
of us, especially if we consider photographs as ?a way of imprisoning reality? or as a 
trace, ?something directly stenciled off the real, like a footprint . . . ? (ibid. 163, 154). 
Of course a photograph?s ability to ?imprison reality? depends on the skill of the 
180
 photographer?s eye, her ability to capture a certain ?quality of presence?, or even her 
creation of surprising juxtapositions or contrasts.   
In the context of the early twentieth century indigenista movement in Cuzco, 
the Peruvian photographer Mart?n Chambi Jim?nez sought to implement his art as a 
tool for ?imprisoning? the ?reality? of his Quechua subjects. Born in 1891 in the 
highland village of Cuaza in the department of Puno, Chambi first saw a camera as a 
young boy in the English owned Santo Domingo Mining Company near his home 
(Camp 223). Immediately enchanted with the instrument, he became determined to 
learn the art of photography and at the age of sixteen he arrived in the city of Arequipa 
with the intent of convincing the renowned commercial photographer Max T. Vargas to 
accept him as an apprentice (Huayhuaca 19). After their first meeting the master 
photographer agreed to assume guardianship of the adolescent and to teach him his art 
(ibid.). For the next decade Chambi worked in Estudio Vargas in the so-called ?Ciudad 
Blanca?; first as an apprentice and later as an associate, the young photographer took 
portraits of Arequipa?s middle and upper class residents (L?pez Mond?jar 10-20). In 
1918 Chambi moved to Sicuani for two years before establishing himself in Cuzco, 
where he worked as a successful artist and businessman, taking photographs for 
wealthy Cuzque?an clients, postcard producers, Argentine newspapers and himself for 
the next thirty years (ibid.). After the devastating 1950 earthquake in Cuzco, however, 
Chambi published very few images21, although his work was exhibited in an 
international photography convention in M?xico D.F. in 1964, in the Museum of 
Modern Art in New York City in 1979 and in various other international expositions in 
Zurich, Par?s, London and Buenos Aires (ibid.).
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 Beginning with its mid-nineteenth century rise in the nascent form of the 
daguerreotype, photography has always been fascinated by the idea of capturing images 
that depict the luxury of social elites and misery of the impoverished? (Sontag 55). As 
an extension of the voyeuristic tendencies of the middle-class fl?neur, the photographer 
sought to gaze upon the reality of his subject ?with curiosity, with detachment, with 
professionalism, the ubiquitous photographer operates as if that activity transcends 
class interests, as if its perspective is universal? (ibid.). One renowned photographer 
who explicitly announced his intentions of transcending class interests and prejudices 
through the practice of his art was the early twentieth century German photographer 
August Sander. The photographic style of this great artist resembles many aspects of 
Chambi?s most well-known and admired images (the similarities between Sander?s 
work and that of Chambi is mentioned by several critics including L?pez Mondejar 11; 
Huayhuaca 64-65; and Weismantel Cholas and Pishtacos 30). Sontag deftly describes 
Sander?s unique ?look? as: ?not unkind; it is permissive, unjudging? [he] was not 
looking for secrets; he was observing the typical? (59). While this ?unjudging? look is 
certainly characteristic of many Chambi photographs (?El juicio oral?, ?Campesinos 
bebiendo chicha en ch?oqo? [both reprinted in Huayhuaca])22, it is in the unusually 
broad sweep of social classes represented in Sander?s photographs that his work most 
clearly reminds us of Chambi?s images. The sense that Sander adjusted his style to the 
social rank of the person he was photographing-- professionals and the rich tend to be 
photographed indoors, without props, while laborers and derelicts are usually 
photographed in a more ?natural? setting (often outdoors) (Sontag 60-61)?also recalls 
a similar tendency in Chambi?s compositions.23 Despite their tendencies to adjust 
182
 photographic ?style? to particular subject, both artists became experts in training their 
gazes to resist and even to actively subvert stereotypical class, racial and gender (see 
for example Chambi?s ?Torera?) categories prevalent in the societies in which they 
lived and worked.  
As mentioned above, Chambi is best known for the comprehensiveness of his 
photographic history of Cuzco?s social classes and tensions between the years 1920-
 1950. As mentioned above (see note vi), Cuzco became an important intellectual and 
economic center during these years which corresponded with local demands for 
decentralization and regional autonomy and president Augusto Legu?a?s projects of 
economic modernization known as ?Patria Nueva? (Poole ?Figueroa Aznar? 53). In the 
mid-1920s violent peasant uprisings swept through Cuzco?s pastoral provinces, while 
in the city, indigenista leaders Jos? Uriel Garc?a and Lu?s Valc?rcel espoused their 
contrasting opinions regarding the correct ?path? for the contemporary ?indio.? In his 
Tempestad en los Andes  (1927), Valc?rcel argues for a return to the values of a pre-
 conquest Inca society, while in El nuevo indio (1930) Uriel Garc?a maintains that the 
colonial era actually encouraged racial improvement, so that instead of focusing on a 
revival of ?Incaic? traditions (as suggested by Valc?rcel), the indigenistas should 
promote the emergence of a vibrant ?mestizo? culture. Chambi preferred Valc?rcel?s 
version of indigenismo and believed that photography should be conceived as a 
medium for providing a historical documentation of the rapidly disappearing ?authentic 
Andean Indian? (ibid. 62). This modus operendi as well as Chambi?s description of his 
photographs as a ?collection? of ethnic ?types? correspond with Valc?rcel?s positivistic 
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 methodologies calling for the scientific and ethnological study of the Inca past (Poole 
?Fotograf?a? 63). 
While Chambi created carefully composed photographs in his Cuzco studio or 
in the opulent homes of his wealthy clients, some of his most memorable images depict 
subjects in the surroundings of their everyday lives:  
en las haciendas de los se?ores de horca y cuchilla con sus siervos y sus 
concubinas, en las procesiones coloniales de muchedumbres contritas y ebrias y 
en esas tiznadas chicher?as que otro cuzque?o ilustre de esos a?os, Uriel Garc?a, 
llam? ?las cavernas de la nacionalidad?. (Vargas Llosa, in L?pez Mondej?r 5)
 If we consider Chambi?s representations of chicheras and chicher?as in Cuzco during 
the early twentieth century as historical documents, we appreciate the photographs? 
indications that at least some Quechua entrepreneurs attained a level of relative 
economic independence. Focusing on the photographs as artistic assemblages, one 
notes the manner in which Chambi seeks to represent chicheras as strong, independent 
and economically successful Quechua women who seem proud of their occupation and 
culture. 
In a 1927 photograph entitled ?Se?oritas en la chicher?a? (reprinted in L?pez 
Mond?jar), Chambi depicts a chicher?a patronized by unexpected clients. The 
photograph features four well-dressed young women perched upon the rustic chairs of a 
Cuzco chicher?a. The ladies? elegant hats and bright white stockings contrast absurdly 
with the dingy floor and walls of the humble establishment.24 The women?s body 
language only exacerbates our sense that they do not belong in the chicher?a. The two 
women clutching chicha glasses hold the large receptacles (one glass remains 
completely full and only a sip has been taken from the other) away from their dresses, 
184
 while the three pairs of legs most visible to the camera are carefully positioned so that 
only the tips of the ladies? shoes should touch the dirty floor.  
The table sitting in the center of the frame is scattered with what appear to be 
crumbs and the two sardine cans lying on the table open their mouths wide for the 
camera, while one of the ladies pierces her fork into the can-- her own mouth remains 
firmly closed. Only one of the would-be merrymakers (she holds a small guitar in her 
lap) grins a bit at the 
camera. The young boy 
at her side is dressed 
jauntily in a striped 
sailor top and matching 
knickers, a beanie in his 
hand. He looks 
Figure 2:  Se?oritas en la chicher?a?, 1927
 confusedly at the camera, though it remains unclear whether he feels apprehensive 
about the photographic instrument or the locale? The apparent discomfort in the 
women?s body language, as well as their own physical contrast with that of their 
setting, can only be explained by an accidental arrival at the chicher?a, or by their 
resolute decision to frequent the establishment. A consideration of the political and 
social context in which the photograph was ?taken? (or as Ansel Adams would prefer us 
to say, ?made?) helps to explain the ladies? presence in the chicher?a. In order to better 
understand this photograph we should recall that in the Peruvian highlands of the 
185
 1920s, ??when a party of damas from Arequipa elected to visit a Cuzco chicher?a, 
they were engaged in more than a bold escapade outside their usual class milieu . . . 
these young women announced their allegiance to the indigenismo movement sweeping 
the Andes . . .? (Weismantel Cholas and Pishtacos 31).
 If the previous photo presents a study of women located out of their element, 
the 1931 photograph entitled ?Mestiza tomando chicha? (reprinted in L?pez Mondej?r; 
Su?rez) depicts a woman who is decidedly 
comfortable with her seat, her surroundings and 
her beverage. Unlike the women in the above-
 described photograph, this woman holds her 
chicha glass close to her body; almost resting 
the tumbler upon her enormous skirt and 
woven money pouch. The tailored, imported 
finery of the ladies? clothing in ?Se?oritas en la 
chicher?a? contrasts sharply with the flowing 
abundance of the mestiza?s lliqlla-shawl and 
                                                                                              Figure 3:  ?Mestiza tomando chicha?, 1931
 skirts. These garments are made of cloth spun from textured animal fibers, as opposed 
to the smooth glossiness of the se?oritas? dresses. 
The corners of the mestiza?s mouth are ever so slightly turned upward as she 
stares into the camera. As in the narrative description of Do?a Felipa discussed above, 
the eyes of this mestiza also remain almost imperceptible-- only a slice of the whites of 
her eyes peeks out from behind the creases. Indeed, the eyes of the ?mestiza? and of the 
186
 ?se?oritas? contrast decidedly. The latter?s open wide as they look straight into the 
camera; eyes and bodies (perched precariously upon stone or adobe benches) remain 
alert, as if ready to jump up at a moment?s notice and flee. The mestiza does not appear 
ready to move at all; the roundness of her skirt (with its horizontal stripe at the base) 
matches the form, shading and width of the stripe crossing the wooden barrel at her 
side and of the round woven basket propped up behind her. This is a woman who 
enjoys a break during the day, but who seems comfortable and content both with 
herself and her surroundings. The titles of both of these photographs also take care to 
explain the sort of subjects depicted in the images. While the ?mestiza? is defined by 
her action, ?tomando chicha?, the se?oritas are introduced by the incongruity of their 
location, ?en la chicheria?-- whether or not they will actually drink the chicha in their 
hands is not addressed in the title and is indeed uncertain.                                                         
In a photograph taken in the same year as ?Se?oritas en la chicher?a?, a row of 
six runa crouch in front of their adobe and thatch house, sharing chicha from two tin 
cups served by a woman who shows only her back to the camera. Of the three women 
who make their faces visible to the camera, two are laughing together and sharing a 
tumbler of chicha, while an older woman holds onto the toddler (who looks ready to 
flee). We can also perceive the faces of two men with serious countenances and stiff, 
upright postures?shoulders remain pushed back and eyes look directly into the 
camera. The women have assumed a more hunched down posture and seem much more 
interested in their own conversation than in looking at the camera. The woman 
distributing the chicha from a large earthenware jar sits in front of the row of 
campesinos in her role as the distributor of chicha to her friends and/or family. It 
187
 appears that Chambi has photographed this group in front of their own house (or maybe 
the neighbor?s) and even the camera-conscious men seem much more relaxed than any 
of the ?se?oritas.? 
This image also illustrates the communal aspect of the chicha break, as the runa 
imbibe the brew from shared cups, they chat with each other while waiting their turn 
for a sip. Like the depiction of the ?mestiza? whose own body and clothing seem to 
reflect and transition into the forms and textures of the photograph?s background, the 
?campesinos? sit upon the ground and against the house, a physical indication of their 
comfortable relationship to their surroundings. In fact, in Chambi?s depictions of runa 
mealtimes or chicha breaks, he unfailingly reveals the communal, relaxed atmosphere 
of the repasts. In these photographs, men and women sit on the ground, smiling and 
chatting as they share their food.25
 As discussed in the introduction, food can often be equated with language since 
both pertain to systems of communication in which their ordered appearance and 
protocol of usages carry certain nuances in certain situations (Barthes 21-22). In the 
representation of a runa meal in this photograph, Chambi includes various aspects of 
?food as a system of communication? as understood within the Quechua culture. For 
instance, a runa viewing this photograph would likely infer that the woman serving 
chicha was the owner of the house and that the those who are receiving her beverage 
have probably just finished working on one of her family?s agricultural plots. In 
exchange for their efforts (and according to Quechua cultural codes), the 
neighbors/relatives have stopped by her house to enjoy a bit of conversation and 
refreshing chicha. In this silent representation of a runa meal food communicates a 
188
 wealth of information regarding the relationships, activities and interests of the subjects 
depicted.     
Taken in the year 1930, Chambi?s ?Vendedora de Chicha en Quiquijana? 
(reprinted in Huayhuaca) portrays a runa alcohol vendor as a successful and 
independent businesswoman. Although the chichera?s facial expression is certainly less 
content and confident than that of the woman in ?Mestiza tomando chicha?, the 
composition of the shot and its ability to focus the eyes of the viewer lead us to feel 
respect for this chichera. This chichera stands erectly alongside her wares?an 
earthenware chicha jug and jars, with her montera propped up against her jug. The 
double layers of her lliqlla-- held closed with a 
large silver tupu clasp-- and her finely detailed 
woven vest and blouse cuffs reveal her success 
as a businesswoman. As in the case of the 
?Mestiza tomando chicha? the patterns of this 
chichera?s clothing correspond to the lines and 
coloring of her surroundings. In this 
photograph, the intricate patterns of the young 
woman?s lliqlla draw our eyes down to the 
similar play of dark/light contrasts of the  
                                                           Figure 4:  ?Vendedora de Chicha en Quiquijana?, 1930
 woven ropes tied around her chicha jug. The river, bridge and houses that fill the 
background of the photograph remain out of focus, thus forcing the viewer?s eye to 
concentrate on the chichera who is perfectly centered within the frame. She stands as a 
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 confident and successful young woman who feels secure in her milieu. Although the 
chichera has clearly stopped to pose for the camera, the shot contains none of the 
falseness and discomfort revealed in the photograph of ?se?oritas? in the chicher?a. 
If the posed, studio photographs taken by Chambi for his urban, bourgeois 
clients often revealed a sense of rigid, insincere posturing (see for example, the well-
 known and almost sinister 1930 photograph ?La boda de Gadea?), his visual 
representations of runa (either posed or spontaneous) reveal proud, successful subjects 
who feel comfortable and confident in their surroundings. As Huayhuaca asserts, 
Chambi?s portraits of runa  ?. . .  retratados individualmente en esas circunstancias, era 
conferirles una dignidad y una relevancia ins?litas, era ir contra la corriente ideol?gica 
que tend?a a disminuirlos o escotomizarlos? (50). While Chambi?s visual 
representations of chicheras and farmers depict dignified and self-assured subjects--
 both in their everyday lives and on special occasions?Arguedas? representation of 
chicheras focuses on their verbal and organizational cunning and in their unwavering 
dedication to their leader and their goal-- even in the face of verbal and physical 
assaults. Through both the form and the content of their compositions, these two artists 
suggest that their Quechua subjects possess intimate knowledge (political, 
entrepreneurial and sociological) of their communities, neighbors and workplaces. 
Representations of Cooking and the Path Towards Economic 
Independence in a Quechua Testimonio:
 So far this chapter has presented examples of the positive representations of 
economic, political and personal power attained by Quechua cooks within the artistic 
190
 genres of the novel and photography. The Quechua language testimonio Autobiograf?a, 
narrated by Asunta Quispe Huam?n and Gregorio Condori Mamani, also provides a 
unique representation of a Quechua woman?s struggle to attain socioeconomic 
independence through the ?outside? marketing of her culinary skills. The genre of the 
testimonial narrative or testimonio is a relatively recent addition to the Quechua oral 
tradition. The testimonio is generally understood as ?a form of collective 
autobiographical witnessing that gives voice to oppressed peoples? (Gelles 3). It is a 
multi-authored text in which a ?speaker? replaces a traditional ?author? as the principal 
creator who narrates his or her story to a ?listener? who transcribes, edits and publishes 
the narrative (ibid.). The ?listener? is of course literate, while the ?speaker? is most often 
illiterate and impoverished, thus leading to all of the complications and contradictions 
of ?high and low culture, dominant and emergent social formations, dominant and 
subaltern languages? (Beverley De/Colonizing the Subject 99). Additionally, Beverley 
describes the genre as including written narratives whose extension approximates that 
of a novel or novelle and which is narrated in the first person by a ?speaker? who either 
witnessed or lived the recounted events (ibid.  92).
 The complexities involved in creating, reading and interpreting testimonios
 stem from their polyvocalic, collaborative nature; their ambiguous status as primarily 
oral narrations subsequently transferred to the written page; as well as the fact that their 
?editor?/ ?listener? (who usually belongs to the hegemonic, educated elite and is 
alternately referred to as:  ?collaborator?, ?transcriber? or ?co-author?) nearly always 
relates the lives of groups or individuals held subordinate to a hegemonic ruling group 
(due to the ?speaker?s? gender, ethnicity, race, or class). Debates regarding these issues 
191
 abound in critical articles and texts, yet for the purposes of the following discussion of 
Autobiograf?a, only a brief mention of these theoretical dialogues will be necessary26.
 When considering Autobiograf?a --as is the case with any testimonio-- the 
interpreter must take into account the extensive processes of interviewing, transcribing 
and editing involved in the creation of the text. As Marcone reminds us,  ?la repetici?n 
fiel de un discurso ajeno es una ilusi?n o, mejor dicho, una convenci?n . . . en la 
medida en que toda enunciaci?n es un evento que ocurre en un tiempo y en un espacio, 
un acto verbal es ?nico en t?rminos hist?ricos y no puede volver a ocurrir nuevamente? 
(83; see also Davies 16). In addition to this problem of achieving a precise reiteration 
of a verbal enunciation, this goal is doubly fraught by the complications involved in the 
mediation and transfer of the spoken-word performance to the inherently silent written 
text. Like many testimonios, Autobiograf?a relates the myths, traditions and life stories 
of ?speakers? who belong to a primarily oral culture and whose creative traditions are 
disseminated not through written texts, but through oral performance. Thus, ?La 
principal dificultad para el estudio de estas literaturas, se cifra en su insoslayable 
vinculaci?n con una serie de pr?cticas no escripturales:  pr?cticas ling??sticas, 
religiosas o rituales, arte verbal? (Lienhard 99). 
This testimonio (in addition to the other examples of Quechua oral narratives 
discussed in chapter four) can be considered both as a part of the Quechua oral tradition 
and as an example of what Lienhard terms ?literatura escrita alternativa? (hereafter, 
?alternative written literature?). For the purposes of this study, texts pertaining to the 
Quechua oral tradition will be understood as those based not on fixed texts reproduced 
in written form, but those that persist and are shared by means of the memory of a 
192
 collective group or of a specialist in a certain oral tradition (ibid. 274). Songs, stories, 
myths and poems pertaining to the Quechua oral tradition can be considered as:  
?Latente en la memoria de sus portadores, el texto verbal?que es s?lo un aspecto de 
un texto m?ltiple:  verbal, musical, gestual?se actualiza oralmente, en general 
p?blicamente, y es memorizado en tal oportunidad por una nueva ?generaci?n? de 
depositarios y de la tradici?n? (ibid. 274-275). As mentioned above, these oral texts are 
constantly enriched and altered according to the context and audience for which they 
are performed.27
 Many of the stories, myths, beliefs and songs narrated by Asunta and Gregorio 
in Autobiograf?a also refer or pertain to a wider repertoire of texts in the Quechua oral 
tradition. Furthermore, the entire testimonio taken as a whole can be understood as an 
example of ?alternative written literature?, which Lienhard defines as a postmodern 
category of Latin American literature (and arguably North American as well, as 
evidenced by the work of such authors as Sherman Alexie, Leslie Marmon Silko and 
Louise Eldrich) characterized by:  ?textos que se relacionan, de alg?n modo, con los 
universos orales de los primeros habitantes del continente, de sus descendientes 
directos (?los indios?) o indirectos (los ?mestizos?) (32). These texts include 
Mesoamerican codices, colonial epistolary literature (chronicles, letters, memories), as 
well as contemporary written and oral narratives (poetry, stories, novels). Lienhard 
posits that all ?alternative written literature? is characterized by, to a greater or lesser 
extent, a ?double determination?; the first part of this double identity corresponds to the 
?depository of oral memory? (the ?owner(s) of ?often collective-- knowledge?), while 
the second identity refers to the ?owner of writing? (corresponding to the ?official? 
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 author of the completed text, who controls its organization, contents and even tone) 
(ibid. 127). This ?double determination? is particularly evident in testimonios when the 
?owner of knowledge? (referred to above by Gelles as the ?speaker?) is explicitly 
identified. 
While Lienhard cites examples of Arguedas? novels and contemporary Quechua 
written poetry as his primary examples of ?alternative written literature?, clearly 
testimonios such as Autobiograf?a also contain this identifying characteristic of ?double 
determination?. As evidenced in the close-readings that follow, Autobiograf?a
 exemplifies the complex, postmodern quality of a ?heterogeneous? text whose unique 
configuration reveals ?la presencia semi?tica del conflicto ?tnico-social: yuxtaposici?n 
o interpenetraci?n de lenguajes, formas po?ticas y concepciones cosmol?gicas de 
ascendencia indo-mestiza o europea? (ibid. 16). For all of these reasons then, 
Autobiograf?a can be understood as ?alternative written literature? that also pertains to 
the Quechua oral tradition.
 A close-reading of the second section of Autobiograf?a offers a unique 
opportunity for understanding the role played by food and cooking in the life of a 
Quechua woman. Asunta?s culinary skills provide her with the necessary tools for 
ordering the individual turmoil that plagues her during many points in her life. While it 
doesn?t deliver her from poverty, Asunta?s ability to attract regular clients to her 
prepared food stalls serves her well, providing both emotional and economic 
independence throughout her life. Asunta?s ability to cook is the first and most 
marketable skill that she can depend on throughout her life. Cooking provides Asunta 
with money that allows for her economic survival and with a sense of pride that 
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 supports her emotionally. Asunta?s culinary career begins with her employment to an 
evil schoolteacher after first arriving in Cuzco, then in the home of a kind family in San 
Blas, next during a stint at a cook house in Santa Ana, later at the construction sites and 
mining camp alongside an abusive first husband, and finally in Cuzco once again?first 
as a separated woman and later while living with Gregorio. Asunta never mentions how 
she learned to cook, but like many of the women who sell meals in Cuzco?s central 
market, it is likely that she learned by observing her mother and sisters while they 
worked in both the priests? and family?s kitchen.
 After having followed her first husband Eusebio to an inhospitable construction 
site near Arequipa, Asunta manages to sustain herself as a professional cook, even 
though Eusebio remains both economically and emotionally unsupportive. Asunta 
explains her first weeks at the camp:  
wachakusqay qhepaman qhali kashaspa?an, wayk?uyta qallarini pisqa 
peonman pensionta qospa: almuerzota cenaytawan. Chay? mana?a ?awpaq 
hina?achu kani. Centavokuna ganakusqaywan ?a gastoypa karan?a hinaspan 
mana?a paypa bolsillonta?achu qhawallayaq kani. Khaynan allin de lo mejor 
kasharayku . . . (103) 
Once I felt well again after giving birth, I began cooking daily meals for five 
workers:  lunch and dinner. Now things weren?t like before. With the centavos I 
was making, now I had enough for my expenses, so now I no longer had to 
always keep an eye on his pockets. So everything was good, we were doing 
very well . . . (my translation)28
 In this passage, Asunta eloquently expresses her sense of relief by subtly contrasting 
the couple?s current economic situation with her memory of their previous struggles. 
Impossible to adequately translate into the English, the repeated use of the enclitic 
suffix ??a in Asunta?s narration (here she uses it seven times in just four lines) 
concomitantly suggests her sense of exhaustion and her thankfulness for a respite from 
195
 financial pressures. In the above translation, I have rendered the suffix (and at times, 
independent particle) ??a? as ?now?. The repeated appearance of this same suffix in 
such a concentrated space, however, suggests a meaning of the more emotionally 
infused, ?finally?. The grammatical structure of the English language, however, does 
not allow for the creation of either the subtly --the suffix ??a? must be rendered as the 
stand-alone adverb ?now??or the measured cadence of the Quechua original. Whereas 
??a? appears seven times in the Quechua version, the English approximation ?now? is 
used only twice in the translated passage since in many cases, there is simply no place 
in English syntax to locate what in Quechua functions as a subtle, adverbial marker. 
Once Eusebio?s drunkenness leads to his dismissal at the construction site, the 
couple heads towards Juliaca without a clear notion of where life will lead them next. 
The importance of her role as a cook is once again reflected in the fact that the only 
possessions she chooses to carry on the journey are her baby and her cooking pots: 
?waway q?epiyusqa, mankaykuna montoyusqa karani? (105) (?carrying my baby and 
with my cooking pots all in a pile.?).29 A few days later when her husband announces 
his intentions to travel to a mining camp in search of work, Asunta uses her pots as 
capital in order to buy food for the trip. Decades later, Asunta still recalls the exact 
quantities of goods she was able to purchase with this money: 
Noqapas tawantin mankaykunamanta, kinsata vendepuni chhayna 
usasqakunata Juliaca plazapi; chaywantaqmi rantirayku arrozta huk media 
arrobata, gallon aceite comerta, hoq gallon kerosenetawan, chay llipinmi 
q?epiyku karan viajeykupaq? (ibid.) 
I also sold three of my four used pots there at the Juliaca market and with that 
we bought half an arroba [about twelve pounds] of rice, a gallon of cooking oil 
and a gallon of kerosene; all of this we carried on our journey. 
196
 After the couple moves to some nearby mines in search of work, Eusebio begins to 
complain about his wife?s cooking. Once again, Asunta?s memory provides her with a 
precision recollection of her former husband?s violent outbursts:  
. . . carajeawaq mikhuna wayk?usqatataq wikch?uyukoq, uyayman 
hich?aywanankama:  --Alqo warmi, carajo! Alqoykipaq hina wayk?unki. Toma, 
carajo! Rakray!?Khaynatan uyayman hich?awaq. (105) 
. . . criticizing me for the food I cooked, he?d throw it out, or even hurl it in my 
face:  -- Dammit Bitch! You cook as if I were your dog. Take this, dammit! 
Wolf it down!--.  And with that he would hurl it at my face.
 At this point in her life, however, Asunta has cooked professionally for many clients 
and does not doubt her culinary skills. Instead, she immediately attributes her 
husband?s abuse and criticisms to his sufferings in the mines:  ?Seguro llank?ananmi 
sasa kanman karan phi?asqalla kananpaq . . .? (106). (?Surely his job must have been 
really difficult for him to act so angry . . .?). 
When Eusebio?s abuse becomes too much to bear, Asunta realizes her error in 
remaining with him for so long and she decides to leave him: 
?Imataq vidari kanman, mana kay qhareq ladonmanta t?aqakapunaypaqri, 
maki, chakiyqa kantaq, simiy rimanapaq, ?awiy qhawanapaq? Acaso such?uchu 
kani? Kay makikunapas cocinata ruwantaq!??nispa. (107) 
Saying??What sort of life is this, if I am unable to separate myself from this 
man?s side, if I have hands, feet, my mouth to speak with, my eyes to see with? 
What am I, a cripple? These hands also make meals!?. 
Gelles and Mart?nez Escobar unnecessarily remove the eloquent semantic couplet 
(underlined above) in their translation of this passage. Also, their translation of 
Asunta?s final exclamation, ?These hands here make all the meals? suggests her role as 
the sole cook within the couple?s household, as if to say that her hands make all of ?the 
family?s? meals (125). This allusion is absent in the Quechua version and it seems 
197
 important to retain Asunta?s declaration that her hands do (ruwantaq) the work of 
preparing meals. Thus, in this passage Asunta reminds herself of her worth as an 
?outside cook?, in addition to preparing meals at home (?inside?) for Eusebio, she also 
works as a professional cook outside the home. This is an important distinction since it 
is in this section of her narrative that Asunta consciously recognizes the value of her 
cooking knowledge. Her experience as an ?outside cook? can provide her with enough 
income to survive as an independent woman and allow her to escape from the abusive 
Eusebio. In declaring that in addition to possessing the attributes of any healthy woman 
(hands, feet and a mouth that work properly) she also has two experienced, cooking
 hands, thus this moment in her narrative foreshadows the decision that she is on the 
verge of making.             
Asunta?s faith in her cooking skills gives her the courage to escape from an 
abusive first husband and upon arrival in Cuzco she quickly finds a job in a picanter?a 
in the neighborhood of Wanchaq.30 The kitchen in this picanter?a becomes a life saver 
in more ways than when since in addition to sustaining Asunta economically, her 
workplace provides the necessary warmth to save the life of her daughter Catalina. The 
infant girl is born prematurely, only a few months after Asunta escapes from Eusebio. 
Born in the kitchen soon after Asunta finishes preparing a batch of chicha, the tiny 
baby manages to survive and grow alongside the warm fire of the picanter?a stove. 
Catalina is the only one of her seven children who reaches adulthood and Asunta 
remembers this birth as a particularly traumatic event. Perhaps not surprisingly?given 
the context in which the child was born-- Asunta describes the event with culinary 
198
 metaphors when recalling the shocking fragility of her newborn infant and her 
miraculous survival: 
Llamiyusqa seda monton chhullmiroq hinaman rikch?akoqraq. Umachanpas 
papaya poqosqamanta aswan ?apuchalla?a . . . wa?uypa platon kashaspa, 
wa?uyta desafian. (108) 
And in this way she could still fall apart-- like a pile of silk, a hand passed over 
could still destroy her. Also, her little head, like an overly ripened papaya, so 
very soft . . . again she was served upon death?s plate and again she escaped.
 The tenderness with which Asunta relates this maternal memory is only partially 
reflected in the English translation. Asunta uses precise grammatical inflections and 
striking imagery and metaphors to express both her affection for her vulnerable infant 
and her pride that like her mother, the child has survived against all odds.
 The narrator?s choice of verb which evoke rich imagery (llamiyuy, ?to pass 
one?s hand over something?; poqoy, ?to ripen, or mature?), as well as her precise use of 
affixes to inflect both verbs and nouns with detailed nuances make this passage one of 
the most poignant moments of the testimonio. In the first line:  ?Llamiyusqa seda 
monton chhullmiroq hinaman rikch?akoqraq?, Asunta uses the continuative suffix ?raq? 
or ?roq? (translated as the adverb ?still?) on two occasions. The repeated use of the 
suffix suggests that although the hazards of birth have been overcome and the child has 
been delivered into the world with life, danger?s shadow still lurks upon the horizon. In 
the next line, Asunta describes one of the risks she has in mind when she compares her 
newborn?s ?little head? to that of an ?overly ripened papaya?, and laments that it is ?so 
very soft?, (?apuchalla?a). Asunta loads the word ?apuchalla?a with a string of three 
affixes which help her to express the tenderness she feels for her infant. Once again, 
English grammar simply does not allow the translator to convey the nature of these 
199
 maternal feelings with the same intensity and eloquence expressed in the original 
passage. Specifically, the adjectival construction ?apu-cha-lla- ?a includes the 
diminutive (and affectionate infix) ?cha- (the equivalent of the Spanish ?ito/-ita); the 
affectionate infix ?lla-  and the adverbial suffix ? ?a (which in this case means ?very? 
since it is preceded by ?lla- ). When considered all together, these affixes infuse the 
word with a concentrated yet subtle sentiment that is difficult to express in non-
 agglutinating languages. 
Food and cooking also play significant roles in other major events in Asunta?s 
life, such as her early separation from her mother (she leaves home after accidentally 
tipping over a canister of the priest?s milk and subsequently incurring her mother?s 
wrath, 94-95), as well as her courtship with Gregorio. Asunta first meets Gregorio 
while working as a cook in a Cuzco picanter?a, ?aqhata ruwaspa extrakunata 
wayk?uspa? (110) (?making chicha and cooking snack dishes?). Gregorio?s courtship 
strategy is clearly food-centered. According to Asunta, he begins by treating her to 
chicha at her own workplace, progresses to bringing her and little Catalina pork rinds 
and pastries (although Asunta wryly notes, ?Pero tiyaq ripusqayku p?unchaymanta 
pachan mana pastel ni chicharron kanchu?/ ?But since the day we began to live 
together, there are no more pastries or pork rinds?) and culminates in an invitation to 
join him for an outing to the Corpus Christi celebration in the nearby district of San 
Sebasti?n (ibid.).31 Although the proposed visit to San Sebasti?n never occurs, the pair 
does end up in another of Cuzco?s picanter?as where Asunta clearly remembers:  
. . . iskay otaq kinsa platotachu sina mikhuyku. Chay platokunataqmi mana allin 
wayk?usqa karan, mana puntonpichu aderezasqa pero chicharronkunaqa allin 
kasqa, chaymi may chikan turiyaspa ninin:  --?Qan enga?awaranki, mana allin 
wayk?usqa iskay platota mikhuyachiwaspa?. (109, 110) 
200
 . . . we ate two or three dishes. Those dishes weren?t cooked well, not properly 
seasoned, but the pork rinds were good, that?s why I often pester him jokingly:  
--?You tricked me, making me eat two dishes that weren?t cooked well?.
 Like any professional, Asunta compares her own skills to those of her competitors and 
as her reflections and comments reveal, the buying, selling, preparation and 
consumption of food and drink play important economic and social roles in the lives of 
Quechua men and women. 
The manner in which Asunta describes her various cooking ventures reveals 
these entrepreneurial undertakings as a definite source of pride. She relates in great 
detail the initial invitation she received from other chupi qhatu women to sell prepared 
meals at the Cascaparo market in Cuzco.32 Asunta recalls the initial dearth of customers 
and then relates her afternoon success on that first day of business when so many 
people asked for seconds that she ran out of food (112). She recounts that soon after 
beginning work as a chupi qhatu, the success of her business began to surpass that of 
her friends, so that after securing a formal agreement to cook regularly for several 
clients, she moved to a less envious corner of the market. 
Quechua women who work as market vendors and cooks enjoy a degree of 
independence that other readily available jobs such as domestic service (often 
impossible to secure for women with children) certainly lack. For instance, cooking in 
the market gives women freedom in making many decisions regarding their business:  
They can decide with whom they are going to do business and also how they 
are going to fix their prices. At the same time, the arrival at the market of other 
vendors, gives them the opportunity to exchange experiences and communicate 
with people of other communities, although it has been noted that there is 
competition among them to gain a certain steady clientele and to occupy the 
best places for the sale of their products. (Yeager 196) 
201
 Asunta narrates her accomplishments as a professional cook with a sense of satisfaction 
noting: ?Pero negocio ruwasqay p?unchaymanta kunankama mana 
imaymanapaq?achu Gregorio wasallan. ?a noqapas imayna centavokunallatapas 
sut?uchimuni?a wiksaykupaq? (?But since the day I?ve been working in this business 
until today, no longer does Gregorio?s back alone have to support us?) (113). Yet the 
economic success achieved by Asunta in her cooking business does not last for long 
and in the paragraphs following her triumphant recollections, she describes the abusive 
and unjust treatment of market vendors and cooks when faced with the wrath of 
municipal police.33
 As in Gregorio?s narrative, Asunta clearly believes that the economic situation 
of Peruvian society in the 1970s (the ?present? during which the couple relates the story 
of their lives to Valderrama and Escalante) has become much bleaker than in decades 
past. Thus she laments that with regards to her previously flourishing food business, 
?Kunanqa mana?an negocio resultan?achu, lliw recadokunan cielokunapiraq mana 
ganancia kan?achu? (?Now it just doesn?t turn a profit, the prices of all ingredients are 
sky high, there are no earnings?) (115-116). Although near the end of her life Asunta 
insists that if she felt stronger she would start a business selling used clothes at the 
Baratillo flea market, her profession as a cook clearly filled her with pride throughout
 much of her life. Indeed, she even apprentices her daughter Catalina to a former 
employer in a Cuzco chicher?a, thus teaching the young girl that with a certain amount 
of skill and luck, a Quechua woman can support herself through her cooking. Although 
the testimonio narrated by Asunta is filled with depressing memories of abuse, hunger, 
poverty and forced servitude, the manner in which she represents the role of cooking in 
202
 her life does not conjure up memories of servitude and confinement, but recalls instead, 
a sense of economic independence and pride in having achieved a degree of self-
 sufficiency for herself and her daughter. 
Asunta?s verbal eloquence in relating her life story to Valderrama and Escalante 
(and indirectly to thousands of readers in the transcribed form of the written 
testimonio) provides an example of the ways in which culinary knowledge can provide 
Quechua women with a ?tactic? for carrying out acts of resistance in their daily lives. 
Faith in her cooking skills fuels this resistance and helps Asunta to escape from an 
abusive husband, to insist on providing for herself after remarriage, to confront a cruel 
municipal agent with her characteristic pluck and to convince an aloof local priest to 
hand over the marriage certificate she needs in order to apply for a market cook?s 
license. In the testimonio narrated by Asunta and in the representations of chicheras in 
Los r?os profundos and in the Chambi photographs, cooking serves as a tool for 
achieving economic power. This financial stability helps these ?outside cooks? to attain 
domestic stability and independence, personal self-respect and in the case of Arguedas? 
novel, political and social authority.
203
 1
  The information contained in this paragraph was obtained by more than twenty separate interviews with 
both female and male cooks working in Cuzco?s luxury and tourist-oriented restaurants, small working-
 class restaurants and chicher?as, as well as sidewalk and market food stalls and weekend ?food fairs? held 
in the working class neighborhoods of San Sebasti?n and San Jer?nimo located on the outskirts of the 
city. The interviews were carried out between the months of June and November, 2005 and were not 
audio taped at the request of many of the interviewees. 
2
  Although self-employed cooks who sell food from sidewalk, food fair, or market stalls generally report 
a slightly higher net profit than those women working in another?s kitchen (the former earning an 
average of 25 soles per day as compared to the latter?s average of 18-20 soles per day), they also risk 
losing money on a bad business day and do not receive ?free? leftovers at the end of the workday. Nearly 
95% of the female cooks interviewed affirmed that their current job gave them more satisfaction (many 
mentioned the advantages of being able to chat with fellow cooks while working), more economic 
stability and less occupational-related health problems and stress than previous jobs (such as:  clothing 
vendors in city flea markets, laundresses, ambulatory vendors and domestic servants).      
3
  Certeau?s explanation of the multifaceted talents and tactics deployed by culture echo many of the 
characteristics of m?tis and describe qualities which Quechua cooks must acquire and perfect in order to 
protect their creative and independent space carved out of the surrounding hegemonic landscape.
 4
  It seems clear that women have been the sole elaborators of chicha in the Andes (and sellers during 
colonial and contemporary times) since the pre-colombian era. Guaman Poma makes this clear in his 
repeated denunciation of the time-consuming task carried out only by women:  ?Los dichos yndios de 
este rreyno con la chicha que sacan las dichas pobres yndias . . . Con esto le mete en tanto trauajo a las 
pobres yndias? (2: 840).    
5
  While most chicher?as offer courtesy snacks called picantes (usually small portions of vegetable dishes 
made from ch?u?o, tarwi, quinua, or papa and served with spicy the uchukuta sauce) and several daily 
?extras? (often the choices include an organ meat broth with papas and rice, stuffed rocoto pepper, the 
thick, spicy capchis stew, or papa helada stuffed with cheese), most patrons are primarily interested in 
ordering a caporal (half liter glass) of freshly brewed chicha.
 6
  The alcoholic content of most batches of chicha varies between 2-12 percent, with the average batch 
containing between 3-5 percent alcohol. Generally, the stronger the alcohol content the more esteemed 
the chicha and since fermentation slows at high altitude with low humidity, most highland chicheras try 
to allow their chicha to ferment for at least two weeks (Vokral 202).
 7
  Santiago Ant?nez de Mayolo suggests that in addition to the ritual and social significance of chicha, the 
consumption of this fermented corn beverage also helps to avoid the spread of water born illnesses (since 
boiling and fermenting the liquid destroys parasites and bacteria) and also provides vital calories and 
nutrients (40). For more detailed descriptions of the complex process required for the production of 
chicha, see Hugh Cutler and Mart?n C?rdenas and Elena Llosa. See John Super for a discussion and 
bibliographic references to colonial travelers who praise chicha in their journals as a nutrient rich, 
healthy beverage which contributes to the ?healthy, strong, and robust? appearance of Quechua Indians 
throughout the Andes (76-77). See Morris for a discussion of the economic, political and religious 
significance of chicha consumption in the pre-colonial Andes (?Maize Beer? 21-35). 
8 Indigenismo refers to the pan-Latin American intellectual movement of the early twentieth century. 
This movement espoused the goal of defending indigenous populations and agitating for political and 
cultural reforms (at both the regional and national levels) that were based on ?indigenous cultural forms? 
as conceived by mestizos and urban intellectuals (Poole ?Figueroa Aznar? 52). The height of this 
movement in Cuzco took place between 1910-1930, thus encompassing some of Chambi?s most active 
years as a visual artist. See also de la Cadena for a detailed discussion of Cuzco?s particular brand of 
Indigenismo.
 9
  In Autobiograf?a the title narrator presents a clear example of the importance of the chichera for rural 
travelers. Gregorio relates that after leaving jail and arriving in the unfamiliar town of Urcos he 
immediately went to the local chicher?a and offered to treat the chichera to a drink. The primary motive 
for showing such generosity was his need to obtain information regarding possible travel companions for 
the dangerous journey to Cuzco. He knew that more than anyone else in town, the chichera would likely 
be able to introduce him to probable travel cohorts (Valderrama and Escalante Autobiograf?a 61). Later 
204
 in his narrative, Gregorio relates the tale of the lord of Huanca?s original appearance. Gregorio claims 
that when the man Pedro Arias first arrived in Cuzco in hopes of finding a runa who could lead him to 
the lord?s town of Huanca-Huanca, he headed straight for the nearest chicher?a where he did indeed meet 
a suitable guide (ibid. 69-70).   
10
  In this chapter, cook will be understood as referring to both the preparer of food and the preparer of 
chicha (the chichera).
 11
  In Los r?os profundos, however, the chicheras? reaction to the oppressive practices of their town?s 
racist, patriarchal leaders is of course anything but a ?silent rebellion?.
 12
  For a discussion of these problems in the context of nineteenth and twentieth Peruvian history see 
Sandoval and Sandoval (xxv-xxxi).
 13
  Critics have noted that the rebellions presented in these two chapters could actually stand alone as 
fully developed episodes, arguing that they retain their integrity even as autonomous narratives in terms 
of their descriptions of complex characters, events and climaxes (see: Yurkievich in Larco 249; Castro-
 Klar?n 149-51; Rama 261).
 14
  Taqui Onqoy was a sixteenth century indigenous movement which provided a serious challenge to 
colonial authority. Its leaders admonished Quechua men and women not to attend Catholic mass, eat 
Spanish foods, speak the Spanish language, or wear European garments (Millones 87).
 15
  The narrative point-of-view in this chapter alternates between the first person singular and plural, 
whereas the first person singular dominates the previous six chapters. As Cornejo Polar points out, this 
ambiguity of voice signals Ernesto?s uncertainty as to whether he belongs within or (and?) outside the 
group of rebellious chicheras (Los universos narrativos 138). Often when Ernesto feels out of place 
within a particular social situation he finds comfort in his musings about nature. In the celebratory 
atmosphere of the chicher?as following Do?a Felipa?s successful uprising, the adolescent recalls:  ?Yo 
qued? fuera del c?rculo, mir?ndolos, como quien contempla pasar la creciente de esos r?os andinos de 
r?gien imprevisible; tan secos, tan pedregosos . . .? (Arguedas Los r?os profundos 111).
 16
  In a footnote Arguedas explains that this is the nickname given to Peruvian Civil Guards because of 
the color of their uniforms (Los r?os profundos 153). The huayruru is a tiny, red and black seed often 
used in despacho offerings prepared for Andean gods or for jewelry; carrying or wearing a huayruru seed 
is said to bring a person good luck and protection.  
17
  The improvised songs performed by Quechua singers in this chapter exemplify many of the 
characteristics presented by Ong in his studies of song performance in predominantly oral cultures. 
According to this theorist?s precepts, the chichera?s capacity for improvising lyrics pertaining to local 
events (Felipa?s flight and the soldiers? inability to catch her) is achieved through a ?remembrance of 
songs sung? and through the interaction between the singer?s and the audience?s memories of Quechua 
songs performed in the past (Ong ?Oral Remembering? 18). The chichera?s adeptness for creating 
pertinent, humorous lyrics (many of which conform to the Quechua poetic device of parallel structure) 
can therefore be explained by Ong?s account of the composition processes mastered by performers in 
oral cultures. He asserts that the performer of an oral tradition relies on her knowledge of certain themes 
and formulas pertaining to the oral tradition of her culture, as well as her own skills:  ? ?rhapsodizing?, 
stitching together formulas and themes in various orders triggered by the specific occasion in which the 
remember is remembering? (ibid. 21).    
18 The English translations of the Quechua text in this section are my own.
 19
  Rama presents this assertion (as well as the others cited below) as an example of his notion of 
?transculturaci?n narrativa??contemporary Latin-American narratives (written by authors such as 
Arguedas, Roa Bastos, Rulfo and Guimar?es Rosa) whose most original and innovative characteristics 
are drawn from the poetic and ideological tradition belonging to the marginalized, ?vanquished? 
populations of the continent (primarily rural, poor, and indigenous). In La voz y su huella Lienhard 
expresses a similar sentiment when he asserts:  ?La escritura indo-mestiza moderna, aparentemente 
cercana?al menos cuando elige un idioma europea para expresarse?a la de los textos latinoamericanos 
europeizados, sigue en realidad exhibiendo caracter?sticas h?bridas . . . subraya de diversas maneras su 
ascendencia oral? (52-53).
205
 20
  In Los r?os profundos, huayno songs are presented as a genre of the Quechua oral tradition effective as 
a tool for resisting domination. In the following pages examples of Quechua stories and myths that 
contest such domination will also be presented. 
21
  Huayhuaca postulates that the decline in Chambi?s artistic production beginning in the 1950?s could 
also be related to the ever increasing influx of commercial photographers intent on imitating his style, 
thus flooding the market with ?pseudo Chambi? images (48).
 22
  Vargas Llosa expresses a similar sentiment in his introductory remarks to L?pez Mondej?r?s collection 
of Chamb photographs:  ?. . . el mundo de Mart?n Chambi es siempre bello, un mundo donde aun las 
formas extremas de desamparo, la discriminaci?n y el vasallaje han sido humanizadas y dignificadas por 
la limpieza de la visi?n y la elegancia del tratamiento? (in L?pez Mond?jar 6). 
23
  As Huayhuaca notes, when creating portraits of Cuzco?s bourgeois, Chambi usually opted for carefully 
composed, ?artificial?, studio photographs, while he reserved more spontaneous or ?natural? shots for 
photographs of the ?mundo campesino y rural, de los grupos populares? (37).
 24
  In her discussion of this photograph Weismantel points out, ?The objects around them only heighten 
the sense of awkwardness:  a ceramic jug and a chicken seem perfectly at home on the dirt floor, but the 
women?s silk hats, which they have placed beside them, perch incongruously on the adobe bench 
(Cholas and Pishtacos 30).
 25
  See for example:  ?Campesinos en un vivac del camino? (undated), ?Descanso de Faena agr?cola? 
(Sicuani, 1919), ?Merienda en Ocongate y nevado de Ausangate? (Cusco, 1931), ?Campesinos bebiendo 
chicha en Cho?oq?o? (Cusco 1928), ?Campesinos en la fiesta de Santiago? (Cusco 1929). The first four 
photographs mentioned are reprinted in Huayhuaca, while the last photograph is reprinted in S?arez. 
26
  See LeJeune, Beverely, Barnet, Sommer, Y?dice and Gelles for a panoramic view of these theoretical 
discussions. Paul Gelles in particular, provides a detailed account of the process entailed in creating the 
original bilingual text which he translates along with Gabriela Mart?nez Escobar as Andean Lives:  
Gregorio Condori Mamani & Asunta Quispe Huam?n. The English language title avoids the original?s 
erasure of Asunta?s participation (in some editions of the Spanish/Quechua text the title is given as 
Autobiograf?a ) and also the confusion of presenting the text as an autobiography.
 27
  It should be noted that the term ?oral tradition? is also problematic. This term tends to evoke negative 
stereotypes that regard the genre as a repetitive, antiquated curiosity-- a relic pertaining to exotic, 
primitive peoples who never attained more sophisticated forms of communication such as written, or 
audiovisual texts.
 28
  Although I have consulted the English language translation of Autobiograf?a published by Gelles and 
Mart?nez Escobar, the translations that follow are based on the original Quechua language transcription. 
Important differences between my English versions and those offered by these two translators surface in 
key narrative moments and these divergences will be discussed in further detail in the following pages. 
29
  When Gregorio?s first wife Rosa Puma (who, like Asunta, worked as a professional cook) first goes to 
live with him, he recalls that she also arrived at this house carrying only her bed and her pots and pans?
 assumedly her only possessions (62). Indeed, a Quechua woman?s pots and pans (particularly if she lives 
in a rural community) are usually among her most costly and prized manufactured possessions. 
30
  For a discussion of the importance of chicher?as (and picanter?as) as potential places of employment 
(and a welcome alternative to the job of a live-in domestic servant) for Quechua women arriving from 
the countryside, see de la Cadena 1995.
 31
  Gregorio meets all three of his wives while they are working as cooks in Cuzco markets and in 
Asunta?s case, a picanter?a. In recalling his reasons for courting his first wife, Gregorio remembers his 
bachelor days, ??a wayk?upuwaqniy warmi ganasniyoq?a? (?now I felt like having a woman to cook for 
me?). When he meets Rosa Puma at the Cascaparo Market his pragmatism soon convinces him to court 
her:  ?Allintataq wayk?uyta yachaq, allintataq atendiwaq y mana qhariyoqtaq pay kasharan?? (She 
knew how to cook well and she served me well and she didn?t have a husband?) (Valderrama and 
Escalante Autobiograf?a 62). This reasoning sounds strikingly similar to the memories of his brief 
courtship with Asunta years later. After the death of his second wife Josefa, Gregorio once again lives 
alone-- once again he must cook for himself (ibid. 73). Yet four months later he meets Asunta at the 
?Ch?uspi C?rcel? chicher?a and decides to ?seek out her friendship? (Asunta refers to the ?Ch?uspi C?rcel? 
as a picanter?a?perhaps because of her job as a cook-- and indeed the terms are fairly interchangeable. 
206
 The name picanter?a emphasizes the locale?s supply of ?picantes? or spicy snacks, while chicher?a of 
course indicates a specialty in serving fermented corn, or quinua brews). Gregorio recalls his motivations 
for courting Asunta in the same straightforward manner in which he remembers his reasons for wooing 
his first wife:  ?. . . noqapas mana warmiyoqtaq kasharani paqtaq allinta serveq? (since I was without a 
wife and since she served generous portions?) (ibid. 73).   
32
  Chupi is a thick soup of papas, ch?u?o, vegetables or shrimp, while ?qhatuy? is the Quechua verb for 
?to sell? and ?qhatu? is often synonymous with ?market?. Although chupi qhatus do often sell chupi, they 
may sell any economically priced soup or broth and/or main course (usually a bit of rice and boiled 
papas, tarwi, or steamed moraya, served alongside a small piece of chicken or beef). See also Gelles and 
Mart?nez Escobar?s explanation of the term (162-163).
 33
  Asunta, like many of the women working within Cuzco?s Central and Wanchaq markets, lacked 
official papers and sanitary certificates for much of her career. Such papers can only be obtained if one 
possesses official identification (such as a birth certificate or a marriage license) and convert the cook 
into a ?licensed? vendor subject to paying municipal taxes and other fees. Asunta?s ?informal? status 
made her vulnerable to the random patrols of municipal agents seeking to locate undocumented cooks 
and vendors; encounters which often result in fines and the confiscation of goods, leading to the financial 
ruin for many of these women?s economically precarious businesses (Paulina Quispe personal 
communication; 113-114).
207
 Chapter IV:
 Powerful Forces in the Kitchen:  Representations of Supernatural 
Cooks in the Quechua Oral Tradition
 So far as I can remember, the Greeks had no great use for books. It is a fact, indeed, that most 
of the great teachers of mankind have been not writers but speakers. Think of Pythagoras, 
Christ, Socrates, the Buddha, and so on. . . In one of the dialogues of Plato, he speaks about 
books in a rather disparaging way:  ?What is a book? A book seems, like a picture, to be a 
living being; and yet if we ask it something, it does not answer. Then we see that it is dead? .                        
                                                                                     Jorge Luis Borges   This Craft of Verse
 Oral Tradition, a Complex and Dynamic Genre:
   The compilation, edition and publication of oral traditions dates back to the 
projects of renaissance missionaries, although today the practice is carried out with 
relatively fewer prejudices, errors and omissions. ?Informants? are no longer limited to 
village chiefs or ethnic lords; instead individuals or groups agree to share their stories 
with ?editors? who do not always pertain to or work for the society?s hegemonic class 
(Lienhard 91). Moreover, contemporary publications of audiotaped and transcribed 
texts frequently correspond to the explicit desire of the ?informants? to make their 
peoples? lives and oral traditions known to a wider audience (ibid.). Yet as Dedenbach-
 Salazar and Lienhard remind us: 
Before the European conquest, the autochthonous societies of the continent to 
the west of Europe carried out their basic semiotic practices within a 
communicative framework which?but only for the sake of contrast with those 
systems which privilege (even fetishise) writing?I shall call ?oral.? . . . 
Amerindian ?orality? always was?and still is?a complex semiotic system 
relying not merely on verbal (?oral?) communication, but also on the most 
diverse media, including plastic, graphic, choreographic, gestural, musical, and 
rhythmical. (171)  
208
 Transcribed versions of these traditions thus lack certain important elements of the oral 
performance which cannot possibly be transferred to the written page. Regardless of 
this limitation, print versions of texts pertaining to the Quechua oral tradition allow for 
the wider dissemination of this culture?s worldview, creativity and aesthetic style to an 
extent that would be impossible in its original, oral form.
 Quechua is and has always been an oral language. Speakers of the language 
share jokes, stories, songs, histories and myths orally; funerary, marriage and religious 
rites are recited from memory and from a very young age children begin to learn 
numerous oral narratives from neighbors and relatives. With the arrival of the 
Spaniards and their graphic-centric culture, the Quechua inhabitants of the Andes 
struggled to keep their own oral traditions from being exiled into the distant recesses of 
a foggy memory. Beginning in the sixteenth century Spanish became the language of 
power in the Andes. Since then, most wars have been declared, penal codes, charters 
and constitutions drafted, novels, poems, textbooks and histories written, plays 
performed and movies scripted in the language of the European invaders. At the same 
time, however, Quechua voices speaking (and sometimes writing) in their own 
language have been recorded in anthologies of songs, poems, myths and plays, while 
bilingual fiction writers such as Arguedas have experimented with new ways in which 
to represent uniquely Quechua themes and dialogues. As we have seen in the close-
 readings presented above, for centuries runa artists have created multilingual, multi-
 genre representations of Quechua artistic expressions, geography, religion, history, 
economy and political structure.
209
 In nearly all of the texts analyzed above?the Incaic hymns, Garcilaso?s 
historical chronicle, Arguedas? novel and Asunta?s testimonio?both the form and 
content of the Quechua oral tradition play important roles in presenting the arguments 
and critiques of the texts, while also influencing such formal aspects as:  sentence 
structure, word choice, presentation of narrators and characters, as well as the creation 
of images and metaphors. For instance, both the form and the content of the sacred 
hymns transcribed by Father Molina and discussed in chapter two are derived from this 
oral tradition. Performed during the Incan ?itua festival, these Quechua hymns likely 
pertained to the category of religious songs known as haylli, while their content was 
largely dedicated to the praise of important deities whose feats are conserved within the 
collective memory of the oral tradition. The formal influence of this oral tradition is 
also evident in the pages of the historical chronicle discussed in chapter two?
 Comentarios Reales. The Inca Garcilaso carefully abides by the oral tradition?s 
convention requiring that proper credit be given to the source(s) of a narrative. In 
introducing his written version of Incan history, Garcilaso identifies his maternal uncle 
as a key source (bk. I ch. XV). The author?s respect for the richness of the Quechua 
oral tradition and language is made evident in his admission to readers that his own 
written rendition of Inca history remains quite inferior to the oral version:  
. . . no la he escrito con la majestad de palabras que el Inca habl? ni con toda la 
significaci?n de las de aquel lenguaje tienen, que, por ser tan significativo, 
pudiera haberse entendido mucho m?s de lo que se ha hecho. (bk. I ch. XVII) 
Nevertheless, the influence of the Quechua oral tradition is unmistakably apparent in 
Garcilaso?s written version of the Inca ?origin myth?. For example, when Garcilaso 
relates the first version of the ?Origin of the Incas? and the rise of Manco C?pac, the 
210
 brief account is contained within six compound sentences. Of these six sentences, 
however, four begin with the phrase ?Dicen (pues, que, de) . . .??the Spanish 
equivalent of the Quechua narrative device ?nispa? (indicating a direct quote and 
loosely glossed as, ?saying?) (bk. I ch. XVIII).1 In chapter three, the use of Quechua 
language songs and verbal defiance in Los r?os profundos demonstrates how elements 
of the oral tradition can be effectively integrated into a primarily Spanish language 
novel, while the complex genre of the testimonio serves as a stage for the presentation 
of Quechua songs, myths, metaphors and stories by the narrators Asunta Quispe 
Huam?n and Gregorio Condori Mamani. 
          When reading a printed Quechua text one must make the important distinction as 
to whether or not the work is a transcription of an oral narrative, or if the text was 
originally composed in written form (the texts described in part II of this chapter are all 
transcriptions of originally oral narratives). As Martin Lienhard reminds us, any writer 
who proposes to transport a product of an oral system to a literary text, is necessarily 
extracting it from its original context and thus (at least to some extent) ?strips it of its 
materiality? (133). A story, poem or song originally performed as an oral text and only 
later transferred to the written page cannot be read in the same manner as a novel or 
poem originally conceived as a print text. For instance, many Quechua stories and 
songs are performed in a conversational context thus:  
            . . . a text is not delivered ready-made to the recipient but is dynamically and 
dialogically constructed in the real time of the storytelling event, as the narrator 
responds to diverse types of input:  questions from the audience, interruptions, 
requests for explanations, laughter, supportive vocalizations, and facial 
expressions. (Ryan 41)
211
 Of course one must also remember that the transcription of an individual or collective 
performance of a song, story, myth, or poem does not represent the only known version 
of this particular text, since oral performances ?reflejan la personalidad y las 
convicciones sociales y culturales de sus narradores, pero tambi?n el contexto hist?rico 
en el que fueron relatados? (Taylor 21). Thus a certain story or song may be related in 
dozens of different versions?each altered to fit the unique social, economic, political, 
historical or cultural context of the particular region in which it is being retold.2
 The following pages explore the ways in which an oral tradition provides a 
unique vehicle for the presentation, diffusion and preservation of a cultural group?s 
desires, values, fears, moral lessons and critiques of oppressive power holders. With 
regards to this last possibility, Arguedas often emphasizes the effectiveness the 
Quechua oral tradition as an expression of creative dissent:  
es una de las literaturas m?s bellas y estremecedoras de todos los tiempos, 
testimonio de su visi?n del hombre y de la tierra y del proceso de dominaci?n y 
de resistencia, frecuentemente triunfante a esta dominaci?n, a que estuvieron 
sometidos desde la invasi?n hisp?nica. (qtd. in Larco 27)
 Similarly, close-readings of an oral tradition?s rumors, gossip, folktales, songs, 
gestures, jokes and theater of the ?powerless?, often reveal a ?critique of power while 
hiding behind anonymity or behind innocuous understandings of their conduct? (Scott 
Domination  xiii). Oral texts such as tales, song and riddles often contain complex 
double-meanings, thus ?ambiguous, polysemic elements of folk culture mark off a 
relatively autonomous realm of discursive freedom . . . [which] are accessible to one 
audience and opaque to another audience which the actors to exclude? (ibid. 157, 158).3
 This shield of anonymity which oral cultures offer their artists is the result of the 
impermanence of its spoken performances. Each oral ?enactment? remains unique in 
212
 terms of the time, place and audience for which it is performed; thus characteristic of 
spatio-temporal impermanence suggests that the oral narrative can be considered as a 
form of Certeau?s ?tactic?. Stories, myths and songs may undergo constant adjustment, 
revision and abbreviation, so that each oral performance ?can be nuanced, disguised, 
evasive, and shaded in accordance with the degree of surveillance from authorities to 
which it is exposed . . .? (ibid. 161). The multiplicity of its authors also provides a 
culture?s oral tradition with protective cover, allowing it ?to carry fugitive meanings in 
comparative safety? (ibid. 162).
 Jos? Mar?a Arguedas, a tireless defender of the Quechua oral tradition, 
describes the language of Quechua narrative as ?imminently oral? and insists that ?a 
silent reading of a Quechua text is almost impossible? (Canciones y cuentos 67). He 
explains this assertion by stating that if the stories are read aloud, the text itself will 
obligate the reader to inflect her voice, revealing the extremely expressive nature of 
these inflections in Quechua (?as in other strictly oral languages?) (ibid.).4 Thus, this 
dedicated translator also acknowledges the difficulties inherent in transferring oral texts 
to the written page and warns readers about all of the dynamic nuances that they will 
miss if they merely read the stories and songs instead of orally experiencing them.
 Arguedas continues his discussion of the Quechua oral tradition by praising its rich 
bank of original phrases, imagery and sensory descriptions and for its ability to create a 
world in which animals and humans can easily enter and exit psychic trances; where 
?everything moves in a community which we could call musical in nature? (ibid. 67-
 68). Unfortunately, Arguedas laments, all of this richness and intensity of expression is 
difficult to translate into Spanish; a language that lacks the grammatical flexibility and 
213
 wealth of precise vocabulary and inexhaustible adjectives available to the Quechua 
storyteller. Even when approximated by the astute translator, glossed versions of the 
clever onomatopoeias that practiced story spinners can invent in an instant never prove 
as entertaining or expressive as when pronounced aloud by skilled Quechua narrators.
 Following the lead of scholars such as Arnold and de Dios Yapita, Harrison and 
Mannheim, the subsequent pages explore the ethnopoetics of various Quechua oral 
texts in which Andean foods and beverages play an important symbolic, metaphoric, or 
descriptive function. In analyzing Andean oral texts Mannheim suggests a combination 
of ?line-by- line analysis? -- looking at formal verbal techniques and rhetorical 
organization (Hymes 1981)-- and also considering what he calls ?etnograf?a de la 
actuaci?n?, that is, focusing on the context in which the oral text is ?performed?, as well 
as the ways in which the ?audience? participates in the creation of the text (Mannheim 
?Hacia una mitograf?a? 53-54). He reminds students of Andean oral tradition that 
Quechua stories often surface during daily life when the narrator seeks to offer advice 
or a tacit ?moral discourse? relating to the context of the conversation  (ibid. 62).  In 
my analyses of Asunta?s discourse in the previous chapter I use this technique of ?line-
 by-line analysis? and in the following pages I will also concentrate on how meaning is 
created through the ?performance? of an oral text. Additionally, in the interpretations of 
the oral narratives presented below, I also focus attention on subtleties such as reported 
speech and other types of citation:  pauses, onomatopoeia, archaic words and phrases 
which ?can radically alter surface meanings? (Tedlock The Spoken Word 54 in 
Mannheim & van Vleet 332).
214
 Arnold and de Dios Yapita?s anthology pays special attention to Aymara 
?stories of origin? related to the papa and other Andean tubers, as well as emic
 categories used to classify the tubers.5 In addition to providing analyses of the semantic 
and symbolic meanings related to representations of papas in Quechua song and poetry, 
Harrison (1989) also discusses and critiques the eurocentricity of Western scholars in 
their attempts to categorize papas (see also: chapter one, 62). The following pages 
benefit from Arnold and de Dios Yapita?s detailed explanation of their field research 
methodologies (particularly their emphasis on repeated interviews with storytellers in 
order to encourage them to interpret their own tales) and from Harrison?s careful 
attention to the multiple meanings associated with Quechua suffixes, syntax and word 
choices in her literary analyses of Quechua songs and poems. Likewise, her emphasis 
on the importance of considering the context in which an interviewer elicits or hears a 
particular oral text contributed to the construction of the literary analyses that follow.  
Representations of the Cook in Quechua Oral Narratives:
           While the cook is a specialist in the preparation of food, this is certainly not all 
that she prepares. The plate of food that the cook sets in front of her client or her family 
contains both caloric and symbolic energy and this chapter will focus on the ways in 
which the latter contributes to the creation of meaning within a number of Quechua oral 
narratives. The analyses of the contemporary oral narratives presented below, focus not 
only on the particular kinds of language, imagery, tone and symbols associated with a 
food-universe, but also consider the context in which such moments arise. If by now we 
have accepted the concept of food as language and cooking and eating as 
215
 communication (Barthes, L?vi-Strauss), then the suggestion that the cook might be 
understood as a storyteller, should not be met with too much resistance. For after all, it 
is the cook who possesses the ingredients and knows how to most expertly wield them, 
while the diner/audience, hungrily awaits her meal. Thus, the creative energies 
involved in the preparation and ingestion of food are analogous to those employed in 
the elaboration and consumption of Quechua oral narratives. In controlling the heat of 
her boiling pot, the spiciness of her sauce and the potency of her chicha, does the cook 
not, in effect, use her creativity and knowledge to control the very substance that her 
hungry client is eagerly waiting to consume? As she prepares a meal or beverage its 
elements are hers to stir, spice and shape. Only she controls the effect which this meal 
will produce on the body of the expectant diner who will quite literally incorporate the 
cook?s creation into his body? In the Quechua oral narratives presented below, the 
undeniable power enjoyed by ?inside cooks? becomes evident in many surprising ways.  
          In the novel, testimonio and photographs discussed in chapter three, aesthetic 
representations of female cooks depict runa women who achieve varying degrees of 
independence in an indirect fashion-- through the exchange of their culinary skills for 
cash. For example, in the testimonio Autobiograf?a, the transcription of Asunta?s 
(edited) narration reveals the ways in which her occupation as an ?outside cook? 
provides Asunta with an element of control in her oftentimes economically and 
emotionally unstable life. In the oral narrative performances explored in this chapter, 
however, the representations of Quechua cooks reveal women working ?inside? 
domestic spaces and who use their access to the meals of their acquaintances as a 
?tactic? for attaining varying degrees of control over the unsuspecting diner?s body, 
216
 mind, or soul. These conniving cooks are usually supernatural beings whose use of 
food to achieve malevolent ends serves as a warning for the Quechua audience who 
listens to the performance of these oral narratives. 
          In the oral narratives explored below, supernatural cooks use their control over 
runa meals in order to punish them for breaking certain cooking or eating taboos (such 
as:  failure to offer a libation to the pachamama prior to eating, pursuing an intimate 
relationship with someone who has stolen food from the family fields, rejecting a plate 
of food prepared by a family member, urinating while cooking, or serving a family 
member rotten food). In these Quechua narratives, scenes that present a character 
breaking such food-related taboos often foreshadow impending doom for the imprudent 
violator or unsuspecting diner. As discussed above, the Quechua hymns transcribed by 
Father Molina reveal the Inca belief that supernatural forces and gods such as 
Wiraqocha, Inti, Pachamama and the Huacas controlled the relative successes and 
failures of imperial food crops. Likewise, the frequent association with food and the 
supernatural in contemporary Quechua oral narratives reflects the relative continuity of 
such beliefs among runa farmers and storytellers living in the Andes today. In the tales 
discussed below, malevolent supernatural beings often attempt to disrupt the lives of 
runa men and women by manipulating their food sources, while the ?moral lesson? 
provided by the stories often emphasizes the vital importance of securing a reliable and 
safe food supply for one?s family.
217
 Representations of Supernatural Cooks in the Contemporary Quechua Willakuy
 In the Andes (and throughout most of the world and history) women cook and 
serve the vast majority of meals consumed at home, in the market, on street corners and 
in restaurants. Their important role as the primary preparer of a society?s foodstuffs 
allows women to ?exercise power through food? so that throughout history, 
??cooking, like sex, has been considered a mode through which women can express 
their feelings? (Sceats 127). The previous chapters attest to the complexity and subtle 
nuances with which Quechua texts depict the act of cooking and how--through their 
occupation of various social, political and economic spheres-- cooks are represented as 
occupying a space which hovers between ?freedom and unfreedom, resistance and 
acquiescence? (Weismantel Cholas and Pishtacos 145).6
 Different women, authors and diners may alternately (or even simultaneously) 
consider the cook as a figure who wields power, or as a servant burdened by her labor 
in the service of filling stomachs. The complexity of the question requires that we keep 
both of these points of view in mind, while not overlooking the fact that the 
consumption of a cook?s meal remains an act of absolute trust. When consuming a 
meal we can never be entirely certain just what substances we are ingesting and we 
trust that the cook will nourish and not poison our body. Thus, cooking may provide a 
space in which a woman can exercise a certain amount of power. She may express 
positive or negative feelings through her cooking and regardless of whether or not the 
diner consciously accepts this fact the preparer of meals is rendered powerful through 
the eater?s trust. This point becomes particularly important when exploring the 
representation of ?magical? cooks in the Quechua oral tradition. In these narratives, 
218
 women adulterate the food of others as a strategy for attaining a desired (and often 
malevolent) effect. 
In his Harvard lecture on the theme of ?Orality? Borges observed, ?I suppose a 
nation evolves the words it needs . . . language is not . . . the invention of academicians 
or philologists. Rather, it has evolved through time, by peasants, by fisherman, by 
hunters, by riders? (81). With this idea in mind, it should not surprise us that among its 
long list of specific verbs which signify ?to eat? [for example:  ch?onqay ?to eat juicy 
foods?, k?utuy ?to eat hard foods?, llaqway ?to eat crushed uchu pepper?, khachuy ?to eat 
hard fruits and ch?awkchay ?to eat loudly?], the Quechua language also includes the 
verb mihupakuy ?to eat outside one?s own house? (Rosa Quispe, Hernan Quillahuam?n, 
Wency Condori Callapi?a, Alejandra Mango, Paulina Quispe, Personal 
Communication; Cusihuam?n 2001). The fact that the Quechua lexicon includes a 
specific verb for expressing this action signals the importance of the concept in runa 
culture. In the oral narratives that follow, it will become that mihupakuy must be 
undertaken with a care and that a relationship of trust should always be established 
before eating food outside of the family home.
 In the following pages, the word willakuy will be used when discussing 
contemporary narratives which pertain to the Quechua oral tradition. Depending on the 
context, the verb willay (as it is currently used throughout the Southern Peruvian 
highlands) can be glossed as ?to tell? ?to warn? ?to advise? or ?to inform?, while its noun 
form willakuy is generally used to describe an oral narration. A willakuy may be 
identified by the narrator and/or audience as either fact or fiction and may last for less 
than two minutes or extend as long as an hour or more. In the community of 
219
 Ch?akalqocha where I carried out most of my fieldwork, the word willakuy was only 
used to describe those narratives which were performed by the community?s yuyaqkuna
 (either yuyaq mama or yuyaq tayta). Holgu?n?s Quechua dictionary registers the verb 
?yuyay? as meaning, ?Acordarse, pensar y tener cuydado de algo, o tener cargo del? and 
also, ?yuyacuni? ?Estar pensando e imaginando algo?, ?yuya, yuyani, o yuyarayani? 
?Traer algo en la memoria.? Contemporary usage of yuyay and its variations do not 
greatly differ from these early seventeenth century definitions and today, yuyaysapa
 has come to mean ?extremely intelligent?, while the verb ?yuyay? can be glossed as ?to 
remember, to retain in one?s memory?. All of these semantic inflections are contained 
in the categories of yuyaq mama and yuyaq tayta in Ch?akalqocha, so that in this 
community, locals consider that a willakuy can only be told by elders whose 
intelligence and acute memories are uniquely endowed with the necessary skills for 
properly relating the narratives. Although not all of the texts discussed below were told 
by yuyaqkuna from Ch?akalqocha, I will use the category of willakuy to describe the 
following Quechua oral narratives in order to avoid the nuances associated with 
classifiers such as ?tale? or ?story? which do not necessarily pertain to these Quechua 
texts. 
Layqas, Saqras and Condenados in the Kitchen
 At the dawn of the Renaissance some of the developments associated with the 
Reformation (the rise of science, the emerging modern world) began to create deep 
anxieties amongst the orthodox populations, coalescing into the ?witch craze? that 
possessed Europe from about 1450 to 1700. During this period, thousands of people 
220
 (mostly innocent women) were executed on the basis of ?proofs? (the infamous ?water 
test? or search for marks on the body left by Satan), or torture-induced ?confessions? of 
having engaged in diabolical witchcraft (sorcery practiced through an allegiance to 
Satan) (Michelet 180-185). Additionally, women who were locally acknowledged as 
skilled healers were often accused of being ?witches? or ?empiricists?, since they relied 
on their senses rather than on faith or doctrine and because their methods called for a 
process of trial and error and on observations of cause and effect (Symons 201).
  The fanatical energy fueling this hysteria greatly increased with the issue of the 
papal bull Summis Desiderantes decreed by Pope Innocent VIII in 1484. Published in 
1486 by the Dominican inquisitors Jacob Sprenger and Heinrich Kramer, the book 
Malleus Maleficarum (?The Hammer of Witches?) included the Pope?s bull as a preface 
and served as the ?guiding light? for a century of Inquisitional tribunals (ibid. 171). 
Malleus described the dangerous evils practiced by countless women and vividly 
outlined the satanic and sexual abominations carried out by witches (ibid. 171-175). 
The book represented a systematization of the Church?s doctrine in terms of defining 
what could be understood as witchcraft and heresy (Silverblatt ?El arma de la 
hechicer?a?122). The tome was translated into many languages and was published in 
several editions in both Catholic and Protestant countries, outselling all other books 
except the Bible.
 The European conquistadors, ecclesiastics and government administrators 
who arrived in the Americas in the sixteenth century carried with them many of these 
reactionary, misogynist beliefs. Consequently, during the colonial era it was not 
uncommon for women?especially older women and widows?to be accused of 
221
 practicing witchcraft (Socolow 24). It was also commonly believed that witches 
preferred to use food as their medium for harming unsuspecting victims with their 
evil spells (ibid. 158). In pre-colonial and colonial Per?, indigenous women who were 
poor, widows, or spinsters were considered morally weak and particularly susceptible 
to falling under the influence of the devil-- a belief which was also commonly held in 
medieval Europe (Silverblatt Moon, Sun, and Witches 167; ibid. ?El arma de la 
hechicer?a? 127; Michelet 119-139).7 Even after many runa men had converted to 
Catholicism and moved into colonial reducciones, Quechua women often continued 
to organize and participate in the worship of Andean deities and ancestral cults, albeit 
this meant that they had to move to the inhospitable, high altitude puna.8
 Studies of witchcraft in colonial Latin America reveal the intimate connection 
between witchcraft and cooking:
 Typically, women made men ?eat? their witchcraft, using their power over the 
domain of food preparation for subversive ends, a practice that was common in 
pre-Hispanic times as well as in sixteenth and seventeenth-century Castile. 
From the number of cases in which food was the medium for witchcraft, it 
appears that ingestion was thought to be one of the most effective ways of 
passing on the polluting substances of witchcraft . . . in eating, the pollution was 
introduced directly and effectively into the body. (Behar 180)
 The belief that food could be used to harm rather than to nurture gave women a very 
specific and real power that could serve as an important defense against abusive male 
dominance?and as a way for women to penetrate men?s bodies (ibid. 200). Of course 
this apprehension of the powers wielded by cooks is not limited to the context of the 
colonial Americas. Ancient Romans were also suspicious of cooks, a prejudice made 
clear by a question posed to a group of his pupils by the famous educator, Seneca:  
?Are you astounded at the innumerable diseases?  Count the cooks!? (ibid. 98). Plato 
222
 also shared a low opinion of cooks, although his loathing stems less from a fear of their 
magical concoctions and more from a belief that their tantalizing dishes lead humans to 
seek hedonistic, superficial pleasures that interfere with the consideration of more 
important philosophical questions. In The Republic, Socrates declares that like ornate 
music, ?elaborate food produces disease? and that in an ideal state, citizens would feast 
on wine, wheaten loaves and barley-cakes and consequently ?lead a peaceful and 
healthy life, and probably die at a ripe old age, bequeathing a similar way of life to 
their children? (ibid. 36).9
 In describing Quechua ?witches? in the Andes, the Spanish chronicler Polo de 
Ondegardo comments, ?About these witches? there are a great number of them, and 
differences between them. Some are adept in making potions of herbs and roots in 
order to kill those they give these confections to. Those who perform this kind of 
witchcraft are almost always women? (qtd. in Silverblatt Moon, Sun, and Witches 172). 
Guam?n Poma also describes numerous ways in which hechiseros use Andean 
foodstuffs as key ingredients for the elaboration of evil portions.10 Most of the 
?maldiciones? that Guaman Poma explains involve the use of uncooked maize:  
C?mo se echan maldiciones a unos y a otros, haziendo serimonias . . . le toman 
quarto masorcas de mays o papas de las chacaras [sementeras], toman las hojas 
y lo atan en palos? Todo ello entierra en su chacara [sementera] de su 
enemigo. Otros hichezeros toman mazorcas de mays que llaman cuti zara y 
sebo y los cauellos y espinas, los cauellos del enemigo. Procura hurt?rselas o 
paga a otra persona a que se las tome del mismo enemigo. Todo ello entierra en 
su chacara [sementera] de su enemigo o en su casa o en parte adonde acienta, 
haziendo mil serimonias para que muera y padesca trauajo y pobreza con toda 
su casa y familia?. (1: 247-48)11
223
 Although the Quechua chronicler asserts that most hicheseros were duly punished by 
the ?becitador general de la sancta yglecia?, he does not reveal very much information 
regarding the age or gender of the ?witches? (ibid. 2: 638). 
This fear that women may take advantage of their access to food as a tool for 
dispensing magical confections (both to strangers and unruly family members) is not 
limited to the texts of colonial chroniclers and extirpators of idolatry. The numerous 
versions of willakuy such as ?Ukuku kimsa wawayuqmanta?, ?Isicha Puytu?, ?Saqra 
paya?, ?Layqa wayk?uq?, ?Yana Kuru? and many others, point to the presence of this 
preoccupation in the Quechua oral tradition as well. These narratives involve 
supernatural characters such as layqas, saqras, condenados, or ?ak?aqs who use their 
access to food in order to create chaos in the lives of human runa. As Lara points out, 
the inspiration for Many Quechua willakuy narrate the adventures and exploits of these 
supernatural figures; in the narratives presented below, the condenado appears as a 
leimotiv, while the saqra and the layqa also appear frequently.12 In these willakuy,
 ?inside cooks? who prepare food for domestic consumption and not for commercial sale 
are the perpetrators of evil culinary deeds. This distinction makes their actions seem 
even more fearful and sinister, since the poisonous meals are served by trusted cooks 
within a familiar domestic space. 
In the narratives discussed below, ?saqra? is used as an adjective to describe 
an evil character whose actions ostensibly serve the devil (as in the story ?Saqra 
paya?), while supay is used as a proper noun describing the Christian devil. This 
distinction appears as early as 1608 in Gon?alez Holgu?n?s dictionary entries for 
?acra --?Cosa tosca, vil o baladi, o mal hecha, o basta o suzia?-- and ?acraruna --
224
 ?Hombre vil suzio bronco-feo?--, as opposed to his definitions for ?upay --?el 
demonio? and ??upayruna?: ?Hombre endiabloado, o malo como vn  demonio?--
 (Diccionario Kkechuwa-Espa?ol 75, 88). In contemporary usage, however, saqra and 
supay are often used interchangeably as in S?kkhra-- ?demonio, sat?n, cachaf?s, el 
mal genio?-- (Lira ibid. 868-869; see also Cusihuam?n 1976: 133).
 The word layqa on the other hand, is translated below as ?witch?, a gloss 
which reflects the contemporary usage of the word as ?hechicer?a, profesi?n y 
conjunto de operaciones del hechicero o brujo? (Lira Diccionario Kkechuwa-Espa?ol
 553; Cusihuam?n 1976: 77). Umu can sometimes be used interchangeably with layqa
 and in a contemporary context, both words usually carry a malevolent connotation. 
While Gon?alez Holgu?n, Santo Tom?s and Guaman Poma define vmu as  
?hechizero?, Lira instills the word with a positive connotation, describing it as a title 
for a clairvoyant --?Um?lliy:  Profetizar, vaticinar, augurar, predecir. ?Ll?pa ?ma 
umulliskk?ykin hunt??kun ?mu. Todo cuento predijiste, o gran sacerdote, se ha 
cumplido? (Gon?al?z Holgu?n 1989: 355; Santo Tomas 147; Guaman Poma 2: 638; 
Lira Diccionario Kkechuwa-Espa?ol 1041).13 Gon?al?z Holgu?n even describes a 
separate category of ?hechizero? (?hampiyok?) who casts spells on one?s food and 
who specializes in ?Hampiyok mikuy? (?Hechizos en comida?) (1989: 543). During 
the extirpation of idolatries in colonial Per?, however, ecclesiastical authorities made 
no distinction between malevolent and benevolent witchcraft and runa were not only 
punished for their malicious use of magic (as layqaq or umuq), but also for working 
as healers (hampiq or p?aqoq) and diviners (watuq) (see for example S?nchez 1-23; 
Silverblatt Moon, Sun, and Witches 159-210).
225
 Although it does not seem to appear in the Quechua oral tradition until after 
the arrival of the Spanish, the condenado is another supernatural figure that plays an 
important role in many willakuy. Arguedas describes condenados as the souls 
(?almas?) of people who have died in a tragic manner (assassination, suicide or an 
accident, commonly labeled ?la mala muerte?):
 almas pecadoras que juzgadas por Dios, han sido sentenciadas a vivir en las 
Cordilleras. Son esp?ritus que salen a la hora del crep?sculo o en ciertas horas 
de la noche y andan por los alrededores de la cordillera infundiendo susto a 
los caminantes. (Arguedas ?Folklore del Valle de Mantaro? 131, 169)14
 These troubled souls often frighten nocturnal travelers and isolated shepherds to death. 
Furthermore, the condenado should not be confused with ?the devil? or with a ?dead 
human? ?es un ser sub-humano que sufre y destruye como medio de encontrar su 
redenci?n . . .? (ibid. ?Cuentos religioso-m?gicos? 197-98). In the Quechua oral 
tradition, condenados frequently appear in the form of animals?dogs, cats, lizards, 
toads, snakes or even birds (particularly owls)?and while they often do not realize that 
they have died, they may also reveal the reason for their condemnation when they
 appear before the living.15 Although many condenados take the form of animals when 
they return to haunt the earth, those that return in human form usually feel no hunger 
(Rosa Quispe, personal communication). 
In interviews that I conducted during the months of August-November, 2005 in 
the community of Ch?akalqocha (Chincheros province), I repeatedly spoke with the 
yuyaq tayta Grimaldo Quillahuam?n Cusihuam?n who affirmed that although the 
physical form of a condenado is often indistinguishable from that of a human, their 
unusual food preferences reveal their true identity:
226
 Condenadoqa runakuna hinas purinku hinaspas kiskatas mihunku, kiskata 
punkukunapi wi?ayunku. Chayta mihunku chiqaq, seg?n destinumansi purinku. 
Pisillatas mihunanku, chay destinunkuch? riki. Roq?ata mihurunku a veces chay 
kiskallata.  (transcription, Wency Condori Callapi?a and Alison Krogel)
 Condemned souls appear human-like as they walk, however, they eat spines,---
 spines that grow over doorways. That is what they eat for certain, according to 
the destiny that they walk towards. It is said that they to eat only a little, I 
suppose this is their destiny of course. The r?oqata cactus they always eat, or 
sometimes just those spines.  (my translation)
 As seen in the story ?Qholla wawata condenadotaq? discussed below, condenados 
may also exhibit cannibalistic tendencies when encountering defenseless runa on 
lonely mountain paths.
 The ?ak?aq or pishtaco is often described by rural Quechua Indians as a 
stranger (oftentimes ?pale? or ?foreign?) who walks around the hills and mountains 
surrounding rural villages waiting for an encounter with a lone runa traveler whom he 
can attack, lull to sleep and then suck out the runa?s wira (life-sustaining fat).16
 Quillahuam?n describes ?ak?aqs in the following manner:
 Ar? chay ?ak?aq qharipis kan warmipis kan, chiqaq ?ak?aqqa kan. Tutapi purinku?
 maymanch?. Muhuyninman chinkayunku. Ah?, purinku, tawa kinsa horata purinku, chay 
horasta runakunata maskhanku-- chakrapipis, otaq maypi runakuna kanku. Qhawakachayuspa 
purinku-- ?ak?aq paqpa larukunapi paqayukunku. Chay paqpaq k?uchuchamantas qhawayunku 
samayukunku. 
Chaytaq mana allinta risakunan karan, maypis pu?uyta saqesunkikuman. Kaypi wa?uwaq, 
chay k?uchuchapi panpapi pu?upuwaq risakunaqtin riki. Chaypaqsi apakunku pantiyunmantas 
allin allpata, apakunku tulluta, apamunku nispa. ?ut?uchata kutanku polvorata ch?isipi 
chaywansi phukuyusunkiku-- anchaykunapi k?anchan chaska chaska. (transcription, Wency 
Condori Callapi?a and Alison Krogel)
 Yes, there are female ?ak?aq just as there are male ?ak?aq, it is true that the ?ak?aq exist. They 
walk by night?where might they go? Over yonder (signals with hand) near the limits of the 
community?s fields they are lost. Yes, they walk, at four, three (in the morning) they walk, at 
that hour they search for humans?in the fields, or wherever humans are found. Always 
looking around they walk?underneath the edges of the maguey cactus the ?ak?aq hide 
themselves. They say that from that edge of that maguey they watch and they rest themselves.  
227
 And when there are evil spells, in whatever place they [the ?ak?aq] leave you asleep. 
There you would die, in that little corner on the ground, you would remain forever asleep, 
because of the spells of course. They say that this is way why they bring fine dirt from the 
cemetery, they bring bones, it is said that this is what they bring. They finely grind [cemetery] 
dust and soon after dark, it is said that they blow this [dust] towards you-- in those places bright 
stars shine. (my translation)
 In the stories that follow, all of these frightful, supernatural beings attempt to wreak 
havoc on the lives of unsuspecting runa and in many cases, their monstrous appetites 
and poisoned victuals serve as their weapon of choice.  
?Ukuku kimsa wawayuqmanta? 
Condendados (condemned souls), saqras (demons/devils) and layqas
 (witches) often use food to seduce, trap, or kill their victims, while the unusual eating 
habits of a character often foreshadow impending doom. In the story ?Ukuku kimsa 
wawayuqmanta ? (?La osa que tuvo tres hijos?) a crafty young cook uses her 
knowledge of magic and cooking in order to escape from the clutches of the town?s 
mestizo leader (?llaqta mistiqta?) (ibid. 50).17 The leader?s desire to control the 
young cook leads to his undoing, as she uses her culinary skills to destroy both him 
and his town. The magic-wielding woman in this story specializes in instigating the 
dismissal of a town?s best cooks so that she can be hired to replace them. In the 
story?s opening scene we learn that the town leader has recently hired the wily girl as 
his new ?inside cook?. Not long after her arrival in town, the young cook also 
becomes the man?s lover, although he soon learns that the young seductress lives an 
evil double life. One evening the jealous mayor decides to spy on his lover and 
discovers that not only does she lick the blood of the snake hidden in her ceramic 
228
 cooking pot, but she also flies off to commune with the devil (?Supay?) during the 
night.18
 When the devil angrily expels the mayor from his hideaway, the man lands in a 
deep and distant crevice where he remains trapped for several days. Although it seems 
that the man should have learned his lesson about the dangers of mysterious women 
cooks after his first experience, he is tricked a second time by another woman who 
offers to prepare him food. This time, the ukhumari (?bear?, a frequent character in 
Quechua tales) who both rescues and holds the mayor captive dedicates most all of her 
time to finding and preparing food for her human lover. The struggles of the ill-fated 
mayor seem to send a clear message-- beware of falling prisoner to the cunning 
seductions of charming female cooks. 
?Isicha Puytu?
 In the tragic willakuy known as ?Isicha Puytu? a mother is forced to use her 
supernatural powers against her own daughter, while the narrative?s clear moral lesson 
warns listeners of the dangers associated with forsaking one?s family and violating 
food-related etiquette. In this willakuy, food represents the warm, wholesome quality of 
the family home. Unwilling to believe that her beloved daughter has succumbed to the 
material temptations offered in the home of a curaca-seducer19, Isicha Puytu?s mother 
tries to lure her daughter home by sending her carefully prepared meals. The grief-
 stricken mother does not hesitate when in need of a strategy to convince her wandering 
daughter to return home-- surely a basketful of homemade goodies will remind Isicha 
Puytu of her old way of life? When the girl?s brothers are sent to fetch her, she hurls a 
229
 painfully stinging insult at her distressed brothers and father when she declares, 
?Imatataq kaytari apamuwanki. ?Kay mikhuqchukarqani ?uqari!? and throws the 
proffered food in their faces? (?What is this that you have brought me? As is I were the 
sort to eat this class of food!?) (Lira Cuentos 74, my translation). When not even the 
carefully crafted meals of Isicha?s mom are powerful enough to lure the young girl 
away from the clutches of the wealthy local landowner, the listener begins to suspect 
the girl?s ultimate doom.  
When Isicha?s brothers report back to their parents with the tale of the girl?s 
rejection, they simply cannot believe what they hear:  ?Chiqaqtachus wawanchis 
chhayna kashan? (?No, it?s not possible that our child could do something like this?) 
(ibid. 75).20 After some time has passed Isicha?s mother decides to send the girl?s father 
to inquire after her, once again sending a package of goodies for her daughter. Yet the 
spoiled mistress receives her father in the same disrespectful fashion. Twice she insults 
her father verbally calling him a ?machu alqu? and just as before, she rejects the food 
sent by her mother:  ?Kay rikch?aq mikhuna mikhuqchu karqani, yaw machu alqu?
 nispas mana chaskikuyta munanchu--. ?Lluqsiy kaymanta machu! ?Ama ?uqata 
riqsipakuwaychu! ? nispa taytantaqa qarkuranpun? (?Saying, I don?t eat this sort of 
food, old dog?, she didn?t want to accept the gift?Get out of here old man! Don?t 
wait for me to recognize you!  -- saying this she threw her father out?) (ibid.).21
 When the girl?s father returns home and sadly reports the manner in which his 
daughter has treated him, Isicha?s mother still refuses to accept such news. The girl?s 
mother decides to make one last desperate trip to the curaca?s home. On this occasion, 
the narrator carefully describes how the mother prepares her daughter?s meal (which 
230
 was previously referred to only as Isicha?s ?quqawcha?--bundle of snacks). Determined 
to bring her daughter home, Isicha?s mother directs her nervous energy to the kitchen:  
?Quqawtas ruwamusqa k?ispi?uta, sara mut?ita, ch?u?u phasita. ?Kaykuna misk?ikuqmi
 wawayqa karqan. Kaykunamantach? wa?ukushan wawayqa?, nispas? (?She set about 
making the snacks:  quinua and ca?ihua cookies, boiled corn, steamed ch?u?o. Saying, 
?These were my child?s favorite treats. My child must be dying to eat these things? ?) 
(ibid. 76). 
Both words and food serve as symbols for shared memories or experiences. 
Like the reader who encounters a never-before-experienced-word that remains 
meaningless, so too does food lose its meaning when consumed without any notion of 
the accompanying nuances, connotations and cultural significance(s). We can 
understand and interpret the world around us precisely because the majority of the 
words, signs and foods we encounter appear familiar to us; they are already loaded 
with so many levels of implied meaning that they can be used to allude to something 
more distant, less tangible. In listening to the description of the foods prepared for 
Isicha by her mother (see above cited passage), a Quechua audience would realize the 
significance of these foods?an observation which is impossible to translate for a 
reader who is unfamiliar with foods such as:  k?ispi?uta, sara mut?ita, ch?u?u phasita. 
A runa listener would understand that grinding the quinua and ca?ihua flour to make 
k?ispi?uta cookies is a time consuming task and that the sugar used to sweeten them is 
usually only purchased for special occasions. Similarly, the amount of ingredients and 
time needed to properly prepare ch?u?u phasita means that the food is not frequently 
enjoyed in runa households. These implied, culture-specific meanings are lost in the 
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 translation, although the maternal strategy of preparing a child?s favorite foods in order 
to create an affective lasso is certainly a fairly universal idea. 
When arriving at the house of the curaca, Isicha greets her mother with insults. 
Even when the cruel girl refuses her mother?s embrace, the determined woman still 
offers her daughter the bundle of goodies she has prepared. Unlike those offered by her 
brothers and father, this time Isicha accepts the package (?Chaytas chaskirqun Isicha 
Puytuqa?), filling both the audience and the mother with a sense of hope; perhaps the 
girl will finally come to realize her callousness? (ibid.). Yet the next line eliminates any 
chance that Isicha might change her ways, as she insults her mother?s food with even 
more malicious energy than ever before:  ??Ama sapankaykichis, khayna?iraq millay 
mikuyta apamuwaspaykichis riqsipakuwaychischu. Riqsirqaykichischu ?asna warmi!?
 nispa nin. Umanmantas mamanta hich?aykun chay apasqanwan? (?Saying, ?You all 
keep bringing me this disgusting food, you all wait for me to recognize you. I never 
knew any of you, putrid woman!?. Then she dumped what had been brought for her on 
her mother?s head?) (ibid. 76-77).22
 This exchange resembles previous the encounters between Isicha and her family 
members; this time, however, instead of simply declaring that she is not the type to 
consume such foods, she explicitly refers to her mother?s carefully prepared bundle as 
?millay mikuyta? (?disgusting food?). Isicha?s rejection of such runa staples such as 
ch?u?o, ca?ihua and mote (boiled corn) is emblematic of her rejection of their entire 
way of life, a connection not lost on the girl?s now infuriated mother. The older woman 
first incredulously and then angrily demands, ?Manachu yuyanki. Mamaykitaq 
kashani? ?Chiqachu taytaykitapis hich?ayamurqanki mikhunawan. Turaykitapis 
232
 kaqllatataq ruwamusqanki. Haku ripusun!? (?You really don?t remember that I am your 
mother? And is it really true that you dumped food on your father, and that you did the 
very same thing to your brother? Come on, we?re going!?)(ibid. 77). The mother?s 
emotions transition from disbelief to fury as she verbalizes the nature and depth of her 
daughter?s rejection. With this new and painful realization, Isicha?s mother begins to 
cry as she cleans up the food that her daughter has refused to accept. The woman then 
tells Isicha that she will no longer consider her as a daughter and that from this day 
forward, she can never reclaim her parents? as her own. 
When Isicha responds to this declaration with the ultimate insult:  ?Pitaq 
nisunkiman qantari ?Mamaymi? ? (?And who could ever call you ?my mother???), her 
mother for once responds without hesitation:  ? ?Kayllawan wi?ay kawsayniykita 
tarinki?? nispas ?u?unta ch?awarparikusqa mamanqa panpaman? (?Saying, ?With 
this alone you will find your everlasting life?-- and she began once again, to milk her 
breast towards the ground?) (ibid. 78). The original Quechua version of this important 
phrase is laden with grammatical subtleties and a cultural context lacking in the English 
translation. The mother?s verbal declaration and physical gesturing combine to form a 
meaning that an audience/reader familiar with the Quechua culture will understand as 
nothing less than Isicha?s certain doom.
 The Quechua narrator describes the nature of the mother?s gesturing by using 
the precisely inflected verb ch?awarparikusqa. ?Ch?away? is the infinitive form of the 
verb ?to milk?, to which the narrator has added the infixes:  ?pa- (indicating the 
repetition of an action with the intent of correcting something that has already 
occurred), -ri- (marking the initiation of the action indicated by the verb) and ?ku- (the 
233
 reflexive marker) (Ar?oz and Salas 110, 148, 58).  Taken together, these infixes inflect 
the normally transitive verb ?ch?away? with a very particular meaning whose 
concomitant brevity and power are impossible to express with English grammatical 
forms. Within the context of this story, the implied intention associated with the 
repetition of a particular action (signaled by the infix ?pa-) is clear to the listener/reader 
of the Quechua original; unable to nourish and protect her estranged adult daughter, 
Isicha?s mother gestures that she is milking herself. The mother thus repeats a past 
action which once sustained her young child, but that is now undertaken in vain. The 
uselessness of her gesture is threefold:  she is obviously unable to draw sustenance 
from her breasts, she directs the imagined stream of milk towards the ground and her 
daughter refuses to accept any proffered nourishment. As the statement ?With this 
alone you will find your everlasting life? prefaces this gesture, the words become a 
curse cast upon the girl by her wounded mother. Understood in this manner, these 
words and gestures come to signify both the mother?s realization that she has nurtured 
her daughter in vain and her simultaneous warning to Isicha that she will have to pay 
for forgetting the importance of her kin (without whom she would never have survived 
infancy) by forever relinquishing the chance to encounter ?everlasting life?. In rejecting 
the gift of her mother?s food Isicha essentially guarantees her own doom.
  Sure enough, that same night the ungrateful girl dies in her sleep; as a 
condenado she realizes the cause of her unhappy fate and explains the reason to her 
compadre, ?Turayman mikhuy wikch?uyukusqaypas, pisi hucharaqmi. Taytayman, 
mamayman mikhunawan wikch?uykusqaymi hucha. Hatun hucha chay?? (?Having 
rejected the food offered to me by my brother, this is a small offense. But the offense of 
234
 having rejected the food offered by my father, my mother-- this is a grave offense?) 
(Lira Cuentos 80, my translation). Realizing the gravity of her offense, however, is not 
enough to save her from the fate that her mother cast upon her. Wandering the earth 
along with the curaca she is pursued by vicious dogs, a sure sign of her status as a 
condenada.
 A Pair of Unsettling Willakuy:  ?Yana Kuru? and ?Qholla wawata condenadotaq? 
On a warm, November afternoon Grimaldo Quillahuam?n Cusihuam?n, a yuyaq 
tayta, monolingual Quechua speaker, farmer and retired traveling merchant from the 
community of Ch?akalqocha, narrated a story called ?Yana Kuru? (?Black Worm?). 
After having spent several hours planting papas in some of Mr. Quillahuam?n?s nearby 
fields, group of about ten male and female relatives and neighbors sat on blankets in 
one of the fields while enjoying a batch of his wife?s locally renowned frutillada
 (strawberry infused chicha). Grimaldo Quillahuam?n?s brother expressed his hope that 
the frutillada would cure his stomach pain and in response to this, a neighbor man 
joked that this pain would likely continue as long as his wife continued to serve him 
?unhealthy? (?mana allinta?) foods. Grimaldo responded to this allusion to domestic 
witchcraft by reminding the group about the story of a local layqa whose identity was 
finally revealed after she attempted to trick others into eating dangerous foods. 
In ?Yana Kuru?, the layqa-witch?s intended victim is her own husband whom 
she attempts to feed ch?u?o phuspi (steamed ch?u?o) which has become infested with 
black worms.23 In the Chincheros region and in many rural Quechua communities 
throughout the Southern Andes, black is considered a dangerous color and is often 
235
 associated with witchcraft and death. An adolescent who chooses to wear all black 
clothing outside of mourning will likely be accused of wishing for his own mother?s 
death (personal communication, Alejandra Mango). Likewise, layqas who plan to carry 
out malevolent spells often use black string to tie around the photograph of an intended 
victim, or to bind together agricultural products which they bury at night in the corner 
of an enemy?s field?an action which is believed to cause the crop to wither and die 
before harvest (ibid.; Hern?n Quillahuam?n Quispe).  
In this story, the narrator?s friend is not pleased when he recognizes his wife 
unexpectedly approaching him during a business journey and he refuses to accept the 
meal that she offers him. The woman?s surprise arrival comes just as the business 
partners are deciding whether or not to attempt a potentially risky nocturnal crossing of 
the mountain crevices that lie ahead. The wife?s appearance precisely at the moment 
when the men arrive at a particularly dangerous portion of their journey seems to 
foreshadow the problems that will ensue. The narrator indicates, ?warminwan mana 
allintachu kawsaran? (?my friend lived unhappily with his wife?) and when the woman 
offers her husband the boiled ch?uno that she has brought for him he defiantly 
responds, ?Ama mihuymanchu, qan mihuy? (?I will not eat this, you eat it?). Upon 
hearing this rejection of the proffered food, the woman becomes irate and slaps her 
husband. In return, she receives both a slap and a kick from her husband, which causes 
the baby sleeping on his mother?s back to begin to scream and cry. The persistent wife 
responds to all of this by demanding, ?Ch?akchishan manachu kay llaqikunki. Kay 
wawa waqashan, yaw! Apamushayki mihuy!? (?Doesn?t hitting us in this way also 
cause you pain? The child is crying, listen! I have brought you food, now eat!?). To this 
236
 question and demand, the woman?s equally obstinate husband simply replies, ?Mana 
mihuymanchu, carajo!? (?I will not eat, damn you!?). The narrator ends his tale by 
explaining why the actions of this seemingly ungrateful and abusive can be justified:  
Hinasqa mana ch?unu phasi kasqachu, chay kuru, kuru huti huti kuru, yana 
kuru karan kaynankuna . . . ?awpaq percakunapi pachanpi karan anchi kasqa. 
Manan ch?u?o phasichu karan.   (transcription, Wency Condori Callapi?a and 
Alison Krogel)
 It turned out that it wasn?t boiled ch?u?o at all, but a huti huti worm, a black 
worm about yea long <<four inch length indicated with hands>>. In the old 
days, inside old walls and in the earth these worms lived. So it wasn?t boiled 
ch?u?o at all.  (my translation)
 In the community of Ch?akalqocha, grandparents tell their grandchildren and 
retell their own children a variety of stories involving rundown, abandoned adobe 
houses located in the hills surrounding the community. Travelers and stranded 
shepherds occasionally stop at these houses for the night and inevitably, these 
unsuspecting wanderers are offered an evening meal of hank?a (toasted corn and/or 
lima beans) or ch?u?o phasi. In these stories, the former usually turns out to be human 
teeth, while the latter is generally revealed to be disguised rocks. The prevalence of 
these stories reflects the commonly held belief that abandoned or dilapidated houses 
(especially those in the high puna tablelands) provide refuge for condenados and 
layqas who frequently try to bewitch unsuspecting visitors through the ingestion of 
adulterated foods.24 It also reinforces the advice which many parents offer their 
children from a young age:  ?Aswan sumaqpuni, chay mihunaq q?onchaykimanta? 
(?Food from one?s own stove is always tastier?). In conversations with Rosa Quispe?a 
yuyaq mama, monolingual Quechua speaker, farmer, accomplished weaver, sheep 
herder and mother of twelve children?I was repeated reminded about the dangers 
237
 associated with wandering around the Chincheros region at night. A life-long resident 
of the Chincheros community of Ch?akalqocha, Rosa asserts that the high concentration 
of condenados in the region should not be taken lightly; a point which she often 
reinforces through the narration of frightful occurrences which have befallen herself or 
her acquaintances. In a willakuy which I will refer to as ?Qholla wawata 
condenadotaq? (?The Newborn Baby and the Condemned Soul?), an unlucky nocturnal 
encounter with a condenado almost results in the loss of a couple?s newborn child. 
Although the condenado initially claims that he is lost and only wishes to continue 
onward (?Chinkallakamun, riyta munashani?), the mother soon realizes that what the 
malevolent soul really desires is to make a meal of her defenseless baby. The narrator 
confirms the woman?s fears in the closing line of the brief willakuy:  ?qholla wawata 
munashan chay condenado, mihurumanmi si destinasqa chaypaq kashan chay 
condenado, mihupun?a tutapi, tutapi mihupun?a? (?That condemned soul wanted the 
couple?s newborn baby and if this is the baby?s destiny the condenado eats, just eaten 
in the night, in the night he eats it?). As in ?Yana kuru? discussed above, the narrator of 
this willakuy utilizes the narrative device of repetition in order to emphasize the sinister 
nature of a particular event. In this case, the fact that the baby may be eaten at night is 
repeated in the closing line of the tale; the first time with an infrequently used sentence 
structure in Quechua (in that the verb appears before the noun) and finally, with typical 
verb-final Quechua syntax, ?tutapi mihupu?a.?        
The presence of snakes, owls, black taparaku moths, toads, the owl-like q?esqe
 bird, large dogs, or particularly sneaky cats often signals impending doom in stories of 
the Quechua oral tradition. In the farming communities near the town of Chincheros in 
238
 Southern Per?, the appearance of a toad (hamp?atu) near one?s house or lurking around 
one?s papa, barley, lima bean, or oat fields is a sure sign of bad luck. Twenty years ago, 
the disquieting number of toads near the communities of Yanacona and Ch?akalqocha 
led to the farmers? decision to drain a small, nearby lagoon which they partially blamed 
for the disturbing infestation. According to many area residents, the decreased number 
of toads coincided with a decline in the number of unfortunate incidents related to 
layqas in the region. Most residents accept this conclusion since it is well-known that 
many malevolent spells call for a toad as the primary ingredient.25
 ?Layqa wayk?uq? 
Nevertheless, older residents still clearly recall a time when layqa, ?ak?aq and 
condenados ruled the Chincheros? night and when their region was notorious as a 
breeding ground for such malevolent souls. One particularly fearsome layqa is locally 
referred to as ?Layqa wayk?uq? (?The Witch Cook?) and in a willakuy known by the 
same name, Rosa Quispe relates the tale of this infamous cook who died when the 
narrator was still a young girl. The following is a transcription and English translation 
of a version of the narrative, which Rosa related to a group of four female neighbors 
(and myself) one October afternoon while pasturing sheep in a field near their homes. 
The paragraph and sentence separations correspond to moments in which the narrator 
paused during the tale, or when <a listener interjected a question or exclamatory 
remark>. In both the Quechua transcription (completed by myself and Wency Condori 
Callapi?a) and my English translation of the willakuy, comma placement corresponds 
(approximately) to the narrator?s breaths instead of according to language-specific 
239
 grammatical rules. In the following transcription, character dialogue has also been 
separated from descriptive or narrative passages. It should be noted that certain aural 
and visual signals given by the narrator are impossible to translate onto the written
 page. For instance, Rosa often changes the inflection of her voice and always leans 
forward towards her audience, hunching her shoulders and lowering her eyebrows 
when a character speaks. Quechua narrators use different signals (usually shifts in 
voice inflection or body position) to indicate the beginning of a character?s dialogue or 
a change of speaker and these variations are also difficult to indicate in a written 
version of a willakuy. 
?awpaqraqcha karan huk se?ora, huk layqa, hinaspas, hamp?atu iskayta uywasqa mosoq 
mankachapi-- chay hamp?atu iskayta karan. Huk q?omer watuchawan karan, huk puka 
watuchawan karan. Chaysi chay hamp?atukuna tusuchisqa mankakunapi. Chaysi watuchamanta 
hap?ispa tusullachisqa tusuyta.  [1]
 ?Pita, mayta, riyta munanki wayqecha?, nispa  [2]
 Chaysi, ?wawaykita munani, wawaykita munashani?, nispa neqtin.  [3]
 <Cheqaqchu?!  Akakallaw!!>  [4]
 Chay mamitaqa wawanta llank?aq risqa, chaysi kutimunanpaq, mihunata wayk?usqa allin 
meriendayta:  qowita kankan, tortillata ruwan, lisas uchutawan ruwan. Chayniyoqta, sumaq 
wayk?uta suyachin mihuchiman karan, chay layqata. Chaysi, chayman, chay layqata 
mihunaman thoqaruchisqa, kinsa kama. Chay layqata thoqaruchisqa, chaymi, chay jarrapi 
mihuchinanpaq.  [5]
 Enamorado kasqa, chaymi, chay enamoradan Marcapataman pakasqa chay joven-- chaysi 
Marcapatapi tiyasqa. Tardepi samaspa haykumusqa, ima chay enamoradan Marcapatamanta 
uyllarisqa rimasqanta chay jovenman willaramusqa. Chaymanta nisharanku,  [6]
 ?Haywarusunchis chay layqata.?  [7]
 Chayta yacharuqti?a chay chaymi mihuna wayk?usqata platupi sumaqta suyachin,  [8]
 ?Manan mihuymanchu mantay. Mihuy qan primeruta, mihuy mantayta.? [9] 
 <Ay! Chhaynaqachu?>  [10]
240
 Mihurachipusqa mantan, nispa ?ataq mamallatantaq. Chay layqata mihurachipusqa chaysi huk 
ratuman imatach? ruwaranqa. Hinaspas, ?amanta lloqsirusqa kanchapi ukhuta haykurusqa chay 
kancha, hisp?asqanta astallamanta mihuchisqa chay layqa mamaku chaywan kutichikun 
chaywan mihusqa ---  chaynan chay layqa ? .  [11]
 Haqay hatun ayllupi anchaypi tiyaran, antesmantaraq, paymi willawan ?awpa timpupi karan-. 
[12]
 ---------------------------------------
 ---------------------------------------
 Long ago there was a woman, a witch, actually, she had raised two toads inside a new cooking 
pot-- there were two of those toads. There was a short green woven cord, and there was a short 
red woven cord. They say that with these cords the woman made those toads dance in the 
cooking pots. Holding onto these little cords she made the toad only dance and dance.  [1]  
?To whom, where, do you want to go brother??, saying. [2]
 Then, ?It is your child that I want, your child I am wanting?, saying, he said (the frog).  [3]
 <Really?! How awful!>  [4]
 As the woman?s son had gone to work, to hasten his return, she prepared all the best foods for 
his afternoon meal:  she roasted cuy, she made tortillas, she made olluco with uchu peppers. 
Then, this layqa, set aside all of these deliciously cooked dishes. And so they say, then, this 
witch quickly spit in the food, three times. This witch spit, right there, there in the dish where 
the food was made.  [5]
 But the son had a lover, and by then, this lover had been hidden in the village of Marcapata by 
the young man -- and so they say that this lover lived in Marcapata. In the afternoon a breath 
blew past, and all the way in Marcapata this woman heard what had been said and told her 
young lover everything. And so they decided,  [6]
 ?let?s go catch up with this witch.? [7]
 So by then the young man already knew that a deliciously cooked meal awaited him,  [8]
 ?I will not eat, my mother. You eat first, eat mother.?  [9]
 <Ay! And then what?!>  [10]
 And so he made his own mother eat on and on, they say only his mother ate. That witch had 
been forced to eat all of the food which shortly before what evils hadn?t she done to it? Then, 
already having arrived inside the corral and having entered the corral, having urinated little by 
little while making the food, in this way that old witch transformed the food?that?s how it was 
with that witch?.  [11]
 In that big ayllu over there she lived, long ago, she told me this story in the times of long ago. 
[12] 
241
 As discussed above in the analysis of passages from Comentarios Reales, 
Quechua narrators take special care to let their audiences know just how they originally 
learned about a certain story. In this case, Rosa claims that long ago she heard the 
above cited willakuy from the layqa wayk?uq herself and indeed, the last line of the 
story reiterates this assertion and reinforces Rosa?s status as a reliable narrator:  
?Haqay hatun ayllupi anchaypi tiyaran, antesmantaraq paymi willawan antesta 
timpupi karan? (line 12). The fact that Rosa spoke with a dangerous layqa when she 
was still a young girl and later survived an encounter with a ?ak?aq (something which 
all local runa know), have contributed to her status among neighbors as the most 
knowledgeable source of information regarding ?ak?aq, layqa and condenados. 
Rosa begins to perform all of her stories with a soft and mysterious voice aimed 
at drawing the audience nearer to her and capturing the attention of those who may be 
only casually listening to her narration. In the opening moments of this story Rosa uses 
both parallel structure (italicized below) and repetition (underlined) to establish the 
rhythm of her willakuy and to foreshadow impending doom.
 ?awpaqraqcha karan huk se?ora layqa hinaspas, hamp?atu iskayta uywasqa 
mosoq mankachapi-- chay hamp?atu iskayta karan. Huk q?omer watuchawan 
karan, huk puka watuchawan karan. Chaysi, chay hamp?atukuna tusuchisqa 
mankakunapi. Chaysi watuchamanta hap?ispa tusullachisqa tusuyta (section 1).
 The fact that this ?se?ora layqa? raises two frogs and is powerful enough that she can 
incite them to ?dance and dance? (emphasized by the repetition of this verb 
?tusullachisqa tusuyta?) immediately signals impending danger to a listener from 
Chincheros, as it is well-known in the region that the only people who can motivate a 
toad to dance are powerful hampiq or layqa. Quechua narrators often use repetition as a 
242
 narrative device which allows them to emphasizing events, characters, or details of 
story which play an important role in subsequent events or outcomes in the tale. 
The cadence and tension of a Quechua tale is often maintained through a careful 
balance of the narrator?s pauses and the stress which she places on particular syllables. 
In section two of this story the layqa first speaks to her toads; the importance of the 
moment in which the layqa witch expresses her willingness to listen to the toad?s 
demands is emphasized by the narrator?s lowered voice and the gradual hunching of 
her shoulders. Rosa moves slightly closer to her audience and pauses briefly between 
the first three words of the line while stressing the first syllable of the first three words 
of the phrase (all of which are set off by the accusative suffix [-ta]) ?Pita, mayta, rita
 munanki wayqecha.? In section three, one of the toads emphatically announces his 
desire to possess the layqa?s son (?? wawaykita munani, wawaykita
 munashani???26). The intensity of the toad?s wish is signaled through the repetition of 
the verb ?munay? (?to want?), which in this case, can be interpreted as the toad?s desire 
to possess the son?s soul (personal communication, Rosa Quispe). After hearing the 
toad?s wish the witch wastes no time in hastening the young man?s return. 
An audience familiar with the Quechua oral tradition would have realized the 
evil nature of a dancing toad from the very onset, so that the toad?s desire to possess the 
woman?s son (section 3) is immediately perceived as dangerous. Audience members 
signal to the narrator that they understand the impending danger with the interjection 
?Cheqaqchu?!  Akakallaw!!? (section 4). Those who listen to a Quechua tale are 
expected to participate in the performance and oftentimes their exclamations, questions, 
or urgings lead the narrator to explain a certain event in greater detail, repeat the 
243
 description of a certain character, or to continue the narration within even more energy 
and attention. These interjections are an important feature of any Quechua tale and 
although the English language lacks equivalents for many of them, in the above 
narration <triangular brackets> have been used to indicate audience commentary (when 
more than one listener interjects the same remark, the expression has been underlined).  
In many rural Andean villages runa believe that they can share food with absent 
family members through either a symbolic ?communion of stomachs?, or by blowing 
the essence of the prepared food in the direction of the distant loved one. In 
Chincheros, many mothers believe that by preparing the favorite foods of their sons or 
daughters they can entice their wayward children to come home for a visit (personal 
communication, Rosa Quispe). The story ?Layqa wayk?uq? reflects this belief, as the 
layqa sets about preparing local delicacies in order to lure her son home to the toads: 
?Chay mamitaqa wawanta llank?aq risqa, chaysi kutimunanpaq mihunata wayk?usqa 
allin meriendayta:  qowita kankan, tortillata ruwan, lisas uchutawan ruwan? (section 
5). 
The truly evil nature of this layqa mother becomes evident when she adulterates 
her own child?s food by spitting in it three times. By twice declaring the mother?s 
wicked deed, Rosa emphasizes the sinister nature of such an act:  ?Chaysi, chayman 
chay layqata mihunaman thoqaruchisqa kinsa kama. Chay layqata thoqaruchisqa, 
chaymi chay jarrapi mihuchinanpaq?(section 5). Moreover, the fact that the mother 
spits three times in her son?s food reflects both her desire to cast a particularly 
powerful spell and the difficulty of the toad?s request (to turn the young man?s soul 
over to the toads). For both of these reasons the layqa cook must call on the combined 
244
 powers of the three worlds (hanaq, kay and hurin pacha) in order to achieve her desired 
outcome (personal communication, Rosa Quispe).
 Luckily, a sneaky breath of wind reveals the details of the layqa wayk?uq?s evil 
machinations to the young man?s girlfriend and by the time he returns home, he is 
aware of his mother?s sinister intentions. The son refuses to eat his mother?s food, yet 
in contrast to the violent reaction of the scheming wife-cook in ?Yana kuru?, the layqa 
wayk?uq obeys her son?s demand that she eat first. Once the layqa mother has begun to 
eat the adulterated meal the narrator reveals a more detailed account of the nature of the 
layqa?s culinary spell:
 Chay layqata mihurachipusqa chaysi huk ratuman, imatach? ruwaranqa. 
Hinaspas ?amanta lloqsirusqa kanchapi ukhuta haykurusqa chay kancha, 
hisp?asqanta astallamanta mihuchisqa chay layqa mamaku chaywan kutichikun 
chaywan mihusqa ---  chaynan chay layqa ? (section 11). 
In this penultimate section of the willakuy, the narrator reveals that the layqa not only 
spit on her son?s food, but also urinated while cooking. This detail would not be lost on 
a Quechua audience; in the Chincheros region it is common knowledge that like the 
power attributed to toads, urine is also frequently used as an ingredient by both hampiq
 and layqa?the former use urine for cures and the latter for curses. 
While offering a complete transcription of a willakuy performance --including 
audience interjections and carefully placed commas and paragraph separations-- can 
help to provide a more dynamic written version of an oral text, the print version of an 
oral text will always lack certain elements of the original performance.27 Voice 
inflection, sound effects, hand motions and corporal movements cannot be effectively 
reproduced on the written page. In this tale for instance, Rosa flicks her wrists up and 
down when narrating the first section of this tale in order to visually explain how the 
245
 malevolent layqa has trained her toads to dance (by hopping up to grab the end of her 
colored cords). Instead of explicitly distinguishing the dialogue of different characters 
in a ?he said?, ?she said? format, Rosa lowers the register of her voice when the toad 
speaks, assumes a singsong tone when the female layqa talks and maintains an vocal 
intermediate register when the layqa?s son addresses his mother in the story. With a 
whistle and a whoosing sound, Rosa imitates the sound of the wind which blows out 
from the layqa?s house and warns the son?s lover of impending doom. In the last line of 
the story when Rosa mentions that the layqa wayk?uq previously lived in the ?hatun 
ayllu?, she motions with her hand to indicate the section of the nearby hills where the 
witch?s house used to stand. All of these extra-verbal narrative devices contribute to the 
richness of Quechua tales and complicate the task of the translator/transcriber who 
wishes to transfer an oral tale to a print format. Indeed, many of the stories told in 
Quechua communities throughout the Andes narrate occurrences which unfolded in the 
surrounding mountains and valleys-- landscapes with which the listeners are familiar. 
The audience?s acquaintance with the settings of many Quechua tales they hear assists 
the narrator in infusing a story with a real sense of doom. The reader of a transcribed 
and translated Quechua tale must keep all of these aspects in mind when reading a story 
which has traveled so very far from its original genre and context. 
In the tales analyzed in both this chapter and in chapter three, cooks appear as 
motivated community leaders (Los r?os profundos), empathetic matronly figures 
(?Isicha Puytu?), confident, resourceful businesswomen (market women in chapter 
one) and even cold, calculating malevolent spirits (?Layqa wayk?uq?, ?Yana kuru?). 
The representation of Quechua cooks in such a wide variety of aesthetic assemblages 
246
 reveals the importance of this figure in runa communities. As we have seen above, 
more often than not the ?outside cook? is represented as a commanding figure within 
her community and her profession often provides her with the opportunity to attain a
 certain amount of economic freedom and social status. On the other hand, in the 
willakuy explored above, only supernatural, ?inside cooks? are represented. These 
cooks misuse the trust of their families and acquaintances and manage to control the 
lives of their families and communities by adulterating the food which they prepare and 
serve to others. Whether they expertly market and sell their food to clients, or artfully 
conceal supernatural ingredients in the meals served to family members, the creative 
and innovative skills, talents and tactics of both ?outside? and ?inside? cooks allow for 
them to utilize the ?everyday practice? of cooking as a tool for achieving a degree of 
independence within their family, community and workplace. 
247
 1
  In Father Molina?s version of this same tale?which he also identifies as being based on the narrations 
of elderly Incan sources and which is of the same extension as Garcilaso?s version?only half as many 
?Dicen que? are used, indicating that, unlike Garcilaso, the Spanish priest did not consider this phrase as 
a necessary convention when citing an Incan source (Molina Fabulas y mitos 33).
 2 An example of this sort of ?creative modification? appears in Los r?os profundos (see pages 153-154 
above) when the chichera vocalist alters the lyrics of a well-known Quechua song to correspond to the 
current political and social upheaval in Abancay.
 3
  Of course the ?cryptic or opaque-ness? of a group?s text depends to a large extent on the context of its 
creation and the cultural and educational background of its audience. The societal critique or political 
message of some Quechua texts are anything but ?opaque?, see for example the popular tale, ?Pongo 
mosqoynin? (?El sue?o del pongo?) transcribed by Arguedas (1965).
 4
  I agree with Arguedas that both the tone and the intensity of Quechua oral narratives are compromised 
when transferred to the written page. In order to partially compensate for this loss, in this chapter I have 
provided the transcription of one of the Quechua narratives that I recorded in October, 2006 so that 
readers can pronounce the story out loud. A better solution to this dilemma would be to include an audio 
CD of the Quechua narrator?s oral version along with the written transcription and translation of the 
tales. 
5
  This volume?s carefully transcribed stories and interviews, along with the inclusion of the interviewees? 
commentary and analyses of their own tales, helped to focus my attention on potential themes and 
questions before ?going in to the field?.
 6 Guam?n Poma would certainly describe a cook?s life as characterized by ?unfreedom? and 
?acquiescence?. The Quechua chronicler repeatedly denounces the cruel excesses of ecclesiastical and 
colonial government authorities with regards to their treatment of Quechua cooks. In addition to making 
the women cook with ingredients from their own family?s  reserves, Guam?n Poma insists that the cooks 
are given nothing but abuse in return for their services:  ?C?mo los dichos padres y curas de este rreyno 
tienen en sus cocinas quatro solteras mitayas, cocineras, y con la cocinera mayor que guiza de comer . . .
 todo a costa de los yndios . . . gastan cada d?a de todas las comidas una hanega y no se le paga? (2: 534). 
Like Garcilaso?s chronicle which takes great care in describing the wealth of foodstuffs grown and 
prepared in the Andes prior to the arrival of the Spaniards (see chapter two), Guaman Poma also 
meticulously lists the wide variety of Andean products stolen by the Spaniards: 
C?mo los dichos padres de las dotrinas comen cin costa y no le paga de trigo y de ma?s y de 
papas y de carnero, gallinas, pollos, g?ebos, tocino, manteca, candela de sebo, ag?, sal,  tamos 
[conserva de papas], caui [conserva de oca], chochoca [ma?z seco (medio hervido y secado al 
sol, Lira)], chuno [conserva de papas], quinua [semilla de altura], porotos [frijol], pallares, 
garuansos, hauas, pescado , camar?n, lechugas, coles, ajo, sebolla, culantro, pergil, yerbabuena 
y otras menudencias y comidas y frutas, le?a, yerua. De todo no se lo paga . . . Y no ay 
rremedio ni ay fabor en los pobres yndios deste rreyno. (2: 536; the denunciation of such abuses 
are repeated in many of the chapters titled ?Padres?)
 7
  Of course colonial ecclesiastical authorities also accused men of performing witchcraft and 
worshipping the devil. When the ?visitador general ordinario y de las ydolatrias? Juan Sarmiento de 
Vivero visited the community of Say?n (located in the corregimiento de Chancay, north of Lima) in June 
of 1662, he not only indicted several women for their work as ?hechiceras?, ?curanderas con superstici?n? 
and ?adivinas? (who locate lost property through witchcraft), but also charged Domingo Huaman of using 
herbs and potions to cure his neighbors. When the visitador asks Huaman what substances he uses to 
cure his patients, the man answers that in addition to the application of coca to the wounds of the injured, 
he also frequently alleviates fevers with ?mais Negro . . . moliendolo y dandolo a beuer con agua? and 
with ?una ierba que se cria en las asequias de una flora blanca y que no sabe su nombre? (S?nchez 9, 17).
 8
  For a detailed analysis of this process see chapters IX and X of Silverblatt?s Moon, Sun, and Witches.
248
 9
  In Timaeus, Plato asserts that the designers of human anatomy foresaw the danger of the seductions of 
cooks and therefore deemed it necessary to wind the bowels ?round in coils, thus preventing the quick 
passage of food, which would otherwise compel the body to want more and make its appetite insatiable, 
so rendering our species incapable through gluttony of philosophy and culture, and unwilling to listen to 
the divinest element in us? (qtd. in Symons 38).
 10
  The majority of these descriptions are contained in Guaman Poma?s ?Cap?tulo de los Com?n 
Hichezeros?-- a chapter written at the beginning of the ?extirpaci?n de idolatrias? campaign when the 
(aptly named) archbishop Lobo Guerrero arrived in the Andes--. (3: 1136).
 11
  See also the confessions of Padre P?rez Bocanegra for further examples of the use of maize in 
witchcraft.
 12
  Although Lara asserts, ?el demonio y la hechicera . . . siempre quedan derrotados por el poder divino? 
the willakuy presented below demonstrate that this is not always true and that in some cases, evil forces 
succeed in carrying out their evil plots and remain unpunished (Mitos 24).  
13
  Although she does not explicitly mention her sources, Gareis affirms that in the early colonial era 
?layqa? was used to describe, ?sacerdotes ind?genas con la variedad de tareas caracter?stica, en la 
actualidad este t?rmino adopta el sentido de ?brujo mal?fico? ? (604). I was unable, however, to 
encounter the word ?layqa? in the dictionaries of Santo Tom?s or Gon?al?z Holgu?n.
 14
  The belief in a similar version of the ?condenado? remained widespread among rural Spanish villagers 
until well into the twentieth century, so that it is not surprising that this supernatural figure would have 
been carried to the New World along with Spanish conquistadors, merchants and travelers (Fourtan? 
162).
 15
  On the other hand, ?almas en pena? generally roam about lonely stretches of countryside at night. They 
do not seek to harm the living or create violent disturbances like the more malevolent condenado and the 
purpose of their return to earth is usually to warn of an imminent death (Arguedas ?Cuentos? 163).
 16
  See Weismantel (Cholas and Pishtacos) as well as Mannheim and van Vleet for studies of this unique 
character in the Quechua oral tradition.
 17
  A similar version of this willakuy called ?Saqrawan parlaq warmimanta? and narrated by Agust?n 
Thupa Pacco appears in Itier?s collection of Quechua narratives (126-129). Arguedas has translated the 
willakuy as ?El alcalde y el demonio?, emphasizing the first half of the narrative and the ultimate cause 
of all of the main character?s suffering (Cantos y Cuentos Quechuas 53-67).
 18
  For a discussion of the complex meanings (both positive and negative) associated with the word supay
 in both early colonial and contemporary times, see Harrison Signs, Songs, and Memories 47-49, 135-141 
and Silverblatt ?El arma de la hechicer?a? 138.  
19
  In Tahuantinsuyu, curacas (a Quechua word which likely stems from kuraq?the oldest child or 
member of a group, deserving of respect) served as Incan envoys and were sent to rural districts to 
oversee the governmental and agricultural administration in each ayllu. After the conquest, curacas 
began to serve as intermediaries between the Spanish administration and the local indigenous 
populations, often taking advantage of their runa ?subjects? by requiring onerous tribute in the form of 
labor (mita) or agricultural goods. The Spanish often referred to these curacas as ?caciques??the word 
used by the Ta?nos to identify a similar position of ?local powerholder? in the Caribbean (Diccionario de 
la Real Academia Espa?ola). Today, both words are used by Quechua speakers to refer to a sort of 
greedy ?local boss? (either runa or mestizos) who tries to take advantage of vulnerable runa neighbors 
through shady business dealings or unfair work contracts. ?local boss?.  
20
  When the copulative verb ?kay? is preceded by the connector ?chhayna?, ?kay? usually means ?to act? 
or ?to do? in a certain (often times undesirable) way.  
21
   When Isicha shouts riqsipakuwaychu at her father, the Quechua infix ?paku- intensifies the nature of 
this insult with a subtle power that English grammatical structures simply cannot match. When attached 
to the stem of the active verb ?riqsiy? (to know, to recognize), -paku- indicates that the verb?s action is 
being realized for the benefit of another party who is waiting to receive retribution (Ar?oz and Salas 
112). In this case then, one could perhaps translate riqsipakuwaychu less literally as, ?I do not know 
you!?. Given the nature of the intense verbal exchange between father and daughter, however, it seems 
important to emphasize the cruelty of Isicha?s words with the less succinct ?Don?t wait for me to 
recognize you!?, an approximation that nonetheless lacks the painful eloquence of the Quechua original.
249
 22
  Here I have chosen to translate ?Riqsirqaykichischu? as ?I never knew any of you?, a declaration that 
is suggested by the past tense marker ?rqa-. Also, the insult ?asna warmi? could alternately be rendered 
as ?stinking woman? or ?smelling woman?, although the intensity of this situation seems to call for the 
most insulting of all English olfactory adjectives.
 23
  The well-known story ?Saqra paya (transcribed and translated by scholars such as Lara [1973] and 
Payne [1999] and frequently narrated in the communities of the provinces of Chincheros and Ocongate, 
department of Cuzco) presents a similar theme in which a malevolent cook seeks to lure hungry, 
innocent travelers to their doom through her use of poisoned victuals.
 24
  Gregorio Condori Mamani narrates a similar story in his Autobiograf?a (59-61).
 25
  Although both aquatic (k?ayra) and land dwelling (ch?eqlla) frogs are frequently boiled and eaten in 
broths said to treat the symptoms of menopause, rheumatism and high cholesterol, eating a toad would 
violate perhaps the most widespread food related taboo in the Southern Andes. Indeed, ?hamp?atu 
michiq? (toad shepherd) is not an uncommon insult heard in the rural communities of the department of 
Cuzco25.  
26
   In the analysis of this willakuy, all interpretations cited as (personal communication) should be 
attributed to the narrator Rosa Quispe. When I asked Rosa to explain various aspects of her narrative she 
offered detailed observations and explanations?many of which are cited in the present text.
 27
  While Quechua scholars such as Lara, Arguedas, Payne and Taylor have published bilingual 
anthologies containing contemporary examples of texts pertaining to the Quechua oral tradition, both the 
transcribed and translated versions of these texts almost always appear in a carefully edited format which 
eliminates audience interjections, repetitive verbal structures and indications of narrator reliability 
(which may occur multiple times in one sentence). Except in the case of Payne (Cuentos Cuzque?os) 
these anthologies lack any indication of the context in which the stories were narrated, or the 
characteristics of the audience listening to the performance. See Harrison (Signs, Songs, and Memories), 
Arnold and de Dios Yapita, Mannheim (?Hacia una mitograf?a?) and Mannheim and Van Vleet for 
examples of studies of Quechua and Aymara texts which include more dynamic analyses, transcriptions 
and translations of Andean oral traditions.  
250
 Conclusion:  
Globalization and the Quechua Food-universe
 The previous chapters of this dissertation have explored culinary 
representations as they appear in a variety of Quechua cultural texts. Representations of 
food and cooking in these aesthetic assemblages often serve as strategies for achieving 
a degree of adaptive resistance against the oppression of hegemonic societal sectors. 
Thus, these Quechua texts become vehicles for creative cultural expressions that 
confront the concerns, desires, resentments, plans, histories and fantasies of their 
creators and audiences. Indeed, nearly all of the selected texts were created in contexts 
of conflict, so that even though culinary representations in these texts often serve as 
oppositional tactics, one should also recall the oppressive powers that creators and their 
audiences must struggle to evade in the material world which surrounds them. Geertz 
warns about the danger of analyses which, ?. . . in search of all-too-deep-lying turtles, 
will lose touch with the hard surfaces of life?with the political, economic, 
stratificatory realities within which men [and women] are everywhere contained . . . 
(16). The goal of this conclusion is to integrate aesthetic, literary analyses of culinary 
representations in Quechua cultural texts with a presentation of some of the ?real 
world? struggles related to food supply in contemporary Per?.  
The manner in which a conflict-laden issue is presented in a text depends on 
whether the audience encounters an ethnographic narrative, a lyrical poem/hymn, a 
novel, a testimonio, a historical chronicle, or a willakuy performance. This conclusion 
discusses the newest and perhaps most unrelenting antagonist of the Quechua food-
251
 universe at present-- globalization. In this conclusion, the abrupt and shocking contrasts 
--between the local and the global, the rural and the urban, the very rich and the very 
poor?which a globalized world economy leaves in its wake will be addressed and 
invoked through the juxtaposition of data laden prose with lyrical texts. As a final study 
in the ways in which widely divergent genres transmit related arguments in very 
different ways, the following pages address Per??s current food-security crisis by 
bringing the messages contained within statistics, song and poetry into conversation. 
The twenty-first century Peruvian economic and cultural landscape is 
increasingly characterized by a disintegration of the division between the ?local? and 
the ?global?. Thus, global petroleum prices affect the prices of vegetables at Cuzco?s 
Mercado Central, while weather patterns near Southeast Asian rice fields can 
determine the food security of millions of runa living in both coastal cities and 
highland villages. Yet within this new global order, runa agropastoralists still remain 
the most vulnerable group of Peruvians. As Garc?a Canclini has pointed out time and 
again, life in this postmodern era means an existence characterized by bricolage, in 
which diverse epochs and cultures converge in previously unimaginable spaces and 
ways (132). In this new millennium, the daughters of Quechua chicheras invite their 
aging mothers to live with them in Flushing, New York where they open up Peruvian 
restaurants as family ventures; Quechua llama and sheep herders travel to Idaho 
ranches to care for North American ruminants and the economic survival of entire 
Quechua communities depends on the international market for cuys which are exported 
to expatriate Andeans in Spain, France and the U.S. This new global order increasingly 
relies on a deregulated international market, free trade, uncontrolled investment flows, 
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 close ties to global financial markets, access to (and knowledge of) advanced 
information processing, technology and communication systems and an adherence to 
the demands and decisions of the IMF and the World Bank (Eide 30, Romero ?Tratado 
de libre comercio?). Of course globalization is not a new concept in Latin America, 
since 1492 native peoples of the Americas have been forced to learn the painful lessons 
that accompany a civilization?s violent incorporation in the world-economy (Boron 
165). Unfortunately, this ?incorporation? into a global economy does not solve the 
socio-cultural, political and economic traumas that result from centuries of servitude 
and impoverishment suffered by the majority of the population 
In the willakuy explored in the previous chapter, representations of food and 
cooking develop within a context of subtly suggested gender, ethnic and familial 
tensions. In Ukuku kimsa wawayuqmanta (?La osa que tuvo tres hijos?) a Quechua 
woman must use her cooking skills to elude the clutches of her mestizo employer, 
while in the willakuy Isicha Puytu, Yana kuru (?Black Worm?) and Layqa wayk?uq 
(?The Witch Cook?), the representation of food?and in particular, the rejection of 
dishes prepared by a family member-- plays an important role in revealing the central 
conflict of each text and in the unraveling of their denouements. Just as food is often 
associated with conflict in the realm of these Quechua narratives, ?real world? issues 
related to food cultivation, acquisition, distribution, preparation and consumption in the 
Andes are also embroiled in a wide range of tensions and discord. Dilemmas related to 
food supply politics, the exportation of Andean products and changes in the preparation 
and consumption habits in Quechua family homes affect the everyday lives of runa. 
Although these tensions are often reflected in contemporary Quechua oral tradition (in 
253
 genres such as the testimonio, song and willakuy), politicians, economists and non-
 governmental organizations are often slow to realize the vital importance of food-
 related conflicts, pressures and shortages. 
Food Supply Dilemmas in Per?: Past and Present:
 In order to more completely understand Per??s present-day food supply 
struggles, it seems prudent to briefly recall relevant food policies and crises that have 
occurred during the past hundred and fifty years. By the mid 1860s for instance, most 
haciendas on Per??s coast ceased to produce foodstuffs and began to plant cotton, as 
the U.S. Civil War led to a rise in global demand for this product (Peloso 104). Other 
far-flung events occurring in 1899?the failure of the Indian rice crop, rising prices of 
lard in the U.S., an increased Ecuadorian demand for Peruvian foodstuffs?led to 
soaring food prices in Per? at the turn of the century (ibid. 105). In addition to these 
international events, increased migration of highland peasants to coastal cities left 
agricultural land in the hands of fewer and increasingly powerful owners who tended to 
plant crops for exportation, thus adding to the severity of the food supply crisis (ibid.). 
These food shortages led to the government?s prohibition of vegetable exports in 1917 
and its complete control of beef sales and exports in 1918. 
In the following decades the flow of urban migrants continued to increase while 
the country?s arable land became increasingly consolidated under the ownership of 
fewer and fewer families. The agricultural census of 1961 reported that 1.3 percent of 
the nation?s 845,000 farms covered a full eighty-four per cent of agricultural land 
(Alberts and Genberg 362). The poverty, oppression and widespread discontent that 
254
 resulted from such inadequate distribution of arable land led to the agrarian reforms 
under Bela?nde in 1964 and Velasco in 1968. Although the Agrarian Reform Law of 
1964 did divide large hacienda holdings into smaller units for peasant families 
(resulting in the redistribution of 300,000 hectares in the Andes), it did not affect 
coastal farmlands at all and contained various loopholes that highland landowners 
could manipulate for their benefit (Alberts and Genberg 363).
 After ousting Bela?nde in a 1968 military coup, Velasco proceeded to abolish 
latifundios and to expropriate large coastal estates with the intention of turning them 
into collective farms-- an idea supported by both Church and Leftists. Although ten 
million hectares were involved in this redistribution project, it remained largely 
unsuccessful; Andean peasants demanded the return of their lands from the hacendados 
(and not an invitation to work on a ?collective farm?) and coastal ?collective farms? 
failed as a result of scarce investment capital, infrastructure and technology (ibid. 365). 
Bela?nde?s plan did, however, succeed in limiting land ownership to one hundred and 
fifty hectares. Nevertheless, in the years following Velasco?s reforms, highland 
peasants organized massive invasions of ?cooperative lands? and with reelection of 
Bela?nde in 1980, many of these cooperatives were indeed broken down into smaller 
family farms (ibid.). 
With the election of Alan Garc?a in 1985, his populist government instituted 
small wage increases, import restrictions and an emphasis on the revitalization of 
small-scale technology in the Andes. Garc?a encouraged peasant farmers to produce 
basic foodstuffs like maize, papas and wheat and also called for an increase in the 
production of Andean crops such as quinua, ca?ihua and kiwicha-- crops which, as 
255
 demonstrated in the willakuy ?Isicha Puytu?-- had lost both prestige and importance 
during the previous decades of food importation (ibid. 366-367). Under Fujimori 
(1990-2000) assistance for the family farmer disappeared and in many regions 
throughout the Andes agricultural production dropped drastically, leading rural 
populations to become increasingly dependent on the State?s delivery of staples (ibid. 
368). Fujimori?s elimination of development projects meant that credit for the 
agricultural sector was largely eliminated and that farmers interested in improving their 
crops or modernizing the production mechanisms of their farms were left without any 
State support (? WTO Agreement?). Furthermore, small-scale farmers were also affected 
by the government?s exchange-rate policy; as their products could not compete with 
cheap imports they were effectively priced out of the local market (ibid.).1
 Unfortunately, as this brief review of governmental food supply and agricultural 
policies reveals, for most of the twentieth century the choices made by Lima politicians 
seem to echo John Super?s description of sixteenth century philosophies of food supply 
policies in the Viceroyalty of Per?:  
Food as nutrients necessary for life and health, was often less important than 
food as income and power. The interplay between producers, distributors, 
consumers, and political officials, each struggling to further their own interests, 
gave life to the politics of food. (40)   
Until Peruvian politicians, business owners and large landholders desist from viewing 
food as a source of potential financial gain and power, it will remain impossible to 
solve the present problems of malnutrition and the unequal distribution of nutritional 
resources throughout the country.   
An estimated 1.3 million hectares of Peruvian land is used for farming 
(amounting to only one percent of total land area), and although the agricultural sector 
256
 accounts for over 30 percent of total employment in Per?, it contributes only 12.5 
percent of the nation?s GDP (Quiroz ?Agriculture, Trade?). Agriculture in the Andes 
largely consists of subsistence farming, thus the majority of the nation?s agricultural 
production comes from coastal plantations and crops raised in river valleys. For most of 
the twentieth century Per? imported large quantities of food products and it continues 
to import wheat, soy, maize, dairy products, vegetable oils and other basic foodstuffs, 
leading to its classification by the WTO as a ?net food-importing developing country 
(NFIDC)? (ibid.). In 1985-87, Peru?s agricultural imports averaged an annual US$528 
million and its exports US$325 million, resulting in a deficit of US$203 million (ibid.; 
Romero ?Tratado de libre comercio?). In 2002 Per? achieved its first trade surplus with 
the US in terms of agricultural products, even though coffee prices remained low 
during this year (coffee generally constitutes fifty percent of all Peruvian food exports) 
(Romero ?Tratado de libre comercio?).
 Who Benefits from the Export of Andean Foodstuffs?
 Per??s main export products include cotton, sugar, coffee, fishmeal, fish oil and 
while the export of fruits and vegetables has been growing rapidly in recent years, only 
three percent of all agricultural workers in Per? are employed in the export sector 
(Romero ?Tratado de libre comercio?).2 The export of products such as paprika,
 mango, artichoke, asparagus, papaya and olives has become increasingly profitable in 
recent years for export companies like T-Interamerican Per? and Per? Agro Partners. 
Companies such as Bedicomsa, Interamsa and Leoni also export dried legumes and 
corn marketed as:  ?giant lima beans?, ?black eyed peas?, ?Ma?z gigante del Cusco? and 
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 ?purple corn? from ?the Sacred Valley of the Inca.? In recent years a few companies 
(Interamsa, Okendo?s Peru Craft, Peruvian Nature, Macandean) have also begun to 
export Andean products such as maca, yac?n, uchu (aj?) pastes, quinua and kiwicha. 
These products are marketed as ?organic?, ?herbal remedies?, or ?super foods? to North 
American, European and Japanese populations who purchase such goods as part of 
their quest to attain a more ?balanced?, ?natural? and ?stress-free? lifestyle. Peruvian 
economists, politicians and intellectuals who have argued in favor of an increased 
investment in this ?organic? industry point to Per??s unique biodiversity as a perfect fit 
for ?las crecientes exigencias sobre el consumo de productos org?nicos, con 
caracter?sticas ex?ticas? (Amat ?El mundo y lo local? 79; Romero ?Tratado de libre 
comercio?). As Javier Llacsa of the ?Instituto Nacional de Investigaci?n Agraria? 
(INIA) points out, Andean farmers (and their advocates) should focus their energies on 
locating these small, highly specialized markets which do not demand uniformity, or 
consistent, high yields of the same crops year after year (requirements which the non-
 industrialized, organic methods of Andean farms are unlikely to provide) (personal 
communication).
 The large Peruvian company Interamsa pays special attention to their online 
marketing of quinua and kiwicha, providing potential clients with detailed recipes, 
historical and biological background and nutritional charts which describe these 
Andean grains. As U.S. studies have pointed out, however, although quinua has been 
available in U.S. health food stores and supermarkets since 1984, the current market for 
quinua in North America remains quite limited since consumers are not familiar with 
the product (Oelke et. al ?Quinua?). Still, it appears as if quinua?s high nutritional 
258
 quality, pleasant flavor and perceived ?healthfulness? may contribute to the crop?s 
growth potential in the U.S. and Europe, particularly as an ingredient for processed 
baked goods and energy bars (ibid.).3 Nevertheless, an increased consumption of 
quinua in North America and Europe does not necessarily mean increased profits for 
Andean farmers, since U.S. agricultural research laboratories are continually 
developing new ?low altitude? and ?high-yield? strains of the plant for future cultivation 
in the U.S (ibid.). In recent years, the news that two researchers from Colorado State 
University succeeded in acquiring a patent for a variety of wild Bolivian quinua (called 
Apelawa, from which they created a hybrid version) has angered Bolivian and Peruvian 
farmers and agricultural exporters (?Patentada la Quinua?). According to a report in the 
Peruvian journal Wayra, the patent does not only apply to the hybrid created by these 
researchers, but to a wide variety of related quinua species (ibid.). According to U.S. 
patent law, the cultivation, sale and export of any quinua product grown from these 
species would be illegal (ibid.). The threat of industrialized countries? patent laws 
effecting the viability of Andean agricultural exports has still not been resolved and 
remains a worry for producers of Andean grains (particularly corn and quinua) and 
tubers who hope to increase their profits through the exportation of their crops (Romero 
?Tratado de libre comercio?).4
 In any case, as many economists have pointed out, in the emerging global food 
order, access to export markets for such ?organic?, ?artesanal?, or ?natural? products is 
largely controlled by a limited number of large transnational companies, while the role 
of the Peruvian farmer is usually limited to that of a closely supervised contract grower 
(Jonsson 55-69). In Per?, as in many developing nations, institutional support (such as 
259
 assistance in searching for new market niches, acquiring updated agricultural 
technologies and lobbying for beneficial import/export legislation) for small-scale 
farmers is either lacking or non-existent, so that large export companies enjoy the 
majority of the benefits resulting from an increased commercialization of Peruvian 
products. Meanwhile, Quechua farmers are often left at the mercy of Lima-based or 
transnational companies who possess the technology and knowledge of global markets 
necessary to successfully export, process and market Peruvian products. As Jonsson 
points out, ?transnational companies per se do not constitute a foe to small peasants. 
However, in the absence of strong institutional support of small farmers, they tend to 
reinforce the position of the already strong parties in the local society? (65). 
Changes within the Quechua Kitchen:  Intersections of the Global and the Local
      ?Hatarichis!     Let us rise up!  
?awpa pachkunapi In those long ago times    
kusilla kawsarqanchis happily we lived       
llaqtanchista khuyaspa loving our land 
Chakranchista tarpuspa planting our fields
 Runa masinchista yanapaspa . . .            helping our neighbors                                         (5)
 Papa mama, sara mama, papa animator, maize animator,                        
Kusilla llank?asqa happily we worked
 Pirwakunata hunt?aspa                 filling the stockpiles
 wata watan churarayaq . . .             year in year out stored away   
---------------------------
 ---------------------------
 Ima muchuy kasqanta What suffering has been endured!                        (10)
 Yarqhaypa nanayninya to continue to feel hunger, becomes painful
 Llullaypa chaninta to continue to feel consoled, by the truth 
Manan yacharqanchischu we were not accustomed to this
 Tawantinsuyu pachapiqa               in the times of Tawantinsuyu                     
260
                 II.
 Jina manta, manapis wahayasqan And so it was, although no one called them          (15)
 Manapis munasqan no one wanted them
 Auqa  runakuna chayamun enemies arrive                                             
Wiraqochan kani nispa.                  saying, ?I am Wiraqocha?
 Mana rurasqanta, thu?ichin without building, he demolishes    
Mana tarpusqanta, mikhun without sowing, he eats                                          (20)
 Uywanchista tukupun our animals, he finishes off
 Khuyasqanchista cheqnin all that we love, he detests             
allp?anchista suwan our land, he steals 
Warminchista wachun . . .                 our women, he abuses . . .
 ---------------------------
 ---------------------------
 Tutallan?an p?unchawpas              Even the day darkens                    (25)
 kawsaypas mana?an kawasaychu this life is no longer life                               
Wa?uyllan wa?uy only death is death
 llakillan llaki only sadness is sadness
 waqallan waqay              only weeping is weeping
 III.
 Kunanqa ?Hatariychis, And now let us rise up,                          (30)
 allp?aq wawankuna! . . . sons and daughters of the land!
 -------------------------
 -------------------------
 Musuq p?unchawmi illarishan A new day is shining     
Orqokunan kununushaqa the mountains are murmuring
 wayrakunan qhapapashaqan the winds are whispering
 Inti Killa ch?ipipishaqan the Sun, the Moon glow brightly                             (35)       
Mayukunan machasqa takikushaqan the intoxicated rivers are singing . . .
 -------------------------------------------
 -------------------------------------------
 ?Jaylliy! ?Jaylliy! indiokuna, Rejoice! Rejoice! Indians, 
Ama kunanmanta Never again                               
Qonqor chaki kawasasunchu           will we live in this way, [subservient] kneeling
 Aswan qaparispan nisun: Yelling louder we will say: (40)
 ?Wa?uymi aswan allin Death is preferable
 qonqor chaki kawsaytaqa!          to a life of [subservient] kneeling!
 ?Jaylliy! ?Jaylliy! indiokuna! Rejoice! Rejoice! Indians!                 
C?sar Guardia Mayorga (Kusi P?ukar) (My translation)
 Although the facts, figures, statistics and citations presented above may provide 
an accurate account of the instability of food security in contemporary Per?, the dry 
261
 and distant tone of this data-packed narrative tends to lull all but the most numerically 
oriented readers into glazed-eye apathy. The succinct, measured directness of the 
language in Guardia Mayorga?s poem, however, addresses similarly complex and 
dangerous food-security issues in a more striking and elegantly concise form. The poet 
uses parallel structure to emphasize the harmony and happiness felt in pre-conquest 
Quechua communities who rarely suffered want:  ?llaqtanchista khuyaspa/ 
Chakranchista tarpuspa/ Runa masinchista yanapaspa? (?loving our land/planting our 
fields/helping our neighbors?) (3-5). The respectful invocation of ?papa mama? and 
?sara mama? suggests the cooperative nature of Quechua agricultural rituals in which 
the animating essence (mama) of staple crops receives ritual offerings and in return, 
runa farmers ask to receive plentiful harvests. In contrast to this harmony, the next 
instance of parallel structure reveals the reason for present-day scarcity:  ?Mana 
rurasqanta, thu?ichin/ Mana tarpusqanta, mikhun? (?Without building, he demolishes/ 
Without sowing, he eats?) (19-20). 
In chapter seven of Los r?os profundos Arguedas describes the mismanagement 
of the salt cache in the town of Abancay. The chicheras? impassioned uprising in 
response to this offense demonstrates the fact that in Quechua culture, disrupting the 
balance of food gifting and receiving is a serious transgression. The selfish and 
disrespectful treatment of runa farmers by Spaniards in post-conquest Per? (lines 19-
 24) foreshadowed the cruel mismanagement of food resources which continues to 
occur throughout Andean countries today. Guardia Mayorga published this poem in the 
Revista de Cultura published by the Universidad Mayor de San Sim?n in Cochabama 
Bolivia (reprinted in Lara La literatura de los Quechuas 170).5 The optimistic tone of 
262
 the last stanza of this poem can be explained by the historical moment in which the 
author composed the piece. When ?Hatarichis! appeared in the 1957 edition of the 
Revista de Cultura, the memory of attempted agricultural reforms, labor strikes and 
widespread inflation was still fresh in the minds of both the rural and urban Bolivian 
populace. 
After returning from exile, V?ctor Paz Estenssoro assumed the presidency of 
Bolivia in 1952 with a coup d?etat organized by members of the Movimiento 
Nacionalista Revolucionario (MNR) (Urioste Fern?ndez de C?rdova ?Bolivia?). By 
1953 indigenous groups had begun to increase their numbers and organizational 
strength leading to large-scale occupations of latifundio estates (ibid.). The government 
also began to institute economic and educational reforms, the universal vote, the 
nationalization of the mines and in 1953, it formally initiated an agricultural reform 
program (Wagner M.L. ?The Bolivian National Revolution). While this agrarian 
reform led to the redistribution of some latifundio landholdings to subsistence farmers, 
the decreasing price of tin on the world market sparked startling rates of inflation 
(ibid.). The government?s attempt to restrict the salaries of mine workers only increased 
the nation?s instability, leading to nationwide protests organized by workers unions 
(ibid.). Guardia Mayorga is clearly aware of this socio-political and economic context 
when he encourages his Quechua readers to ?rise up?. Although the poet is aware of the 
centuries of painful suffering and exploitation which runa have endured throughout the 
Andes, Bolivian attempts at socio-economic reforms during the 1950s infuse this poem 
with a tone of hope (as well as anger). Although the final stanza asserts, ?A new day is 
263
 shining? and calls for runa to ?Rejoice! Rejoice?, the poet also recalls past grief with 
determined exclamations of ?Never again/will we live in this way? (lines 32, 43, 37-38).  
In the year 2006, Per? is increasingly close to reaching a food-security crisis-- a 
situation that will not improve as long as the contents and quantities of foods available 
to the majority of Peruvian families continues to depend on unstable national and 
international food politics and supplies (Jonsson 55-69; Quiroz ?Agriculture, Trade?; 
Romero ?Tratado de libre comercio?; ?Patentada la Quinua?). Guardia Mayorga?s 
poem denounces the abuse of runa and their land by lazy, greedy foreigners and recalls 
that under the rule of the Incas, no one suffered hunger. As mentioned in chapter two, 
numerous colonial chroniclers also affirmed that starvation appeared to be nonexistent 
amongst the well-organized, hardworking population of Tahuantinsuyu. The Incas 
believed that in assuring the adequate nourishment of their subjects, their empire would 
continue to flourish, a philosophy which post-conquest governments in Per? have not 
shared. As Mary Douglas eloquently points out:   
Like all symbols, food can be manipulated. It can be exchanged, bartered, sold, 
or given away; it can serve as a medium of exploitation, used for or against 
people to bring them to a point of capitulation. It can be disguised as an 
inducement, as entreaty, or a trade-off. Food exists as an ingredient of 
imperialism, and it can be used profitably against a population as if it were a 
weapon?paradoxically, one as lethal as starvation. (Food in the Social Order
 58)
 As we have seen in the above chapters, throughout history and in many different 
contexts, food has played all of these roles in the Andes. In contemporary Per?, the 
policies of the national government rarely assist (and more often than not they harm) 
Quechua farmers. 
264
 Since the middle of the past century, the Peruvian government has subsidized 
certain foodstuffs with the intention of making staple foods more accessible to the 
poorest families. Yet as many have pointed out, ?el subsidio, distribuido a trav?s de 
toda la poblaci?n consumidora, no resuelve efectivamente las necesidades cr?ticas de 
los grupos malnutridos? (Amat and Curonisy 223). Thus the prices of imported 
products such as wheat and cooking oil and coastal products such as sugar and rice are 
often far lower than Andean products such as quinua, kiwicha and tarwi, leading to a 
decrease in the consumption of these products (Orlove 497).6 Foodstuffs donated from 
international organizations or the national government also tend to consist of these 
same imported or coastal products. Studies reveal that after a family has become 
accustomed to consuming certain donated products (vegetable oil, canned fish/meat, 
wheat bread) they often seek these products out at the local market, thus decreasing 
their consumption of higher protein, calorie and vitamin rich foods produced locally at 
cheaper prices (Prudencio and Velasco 90).7 Surveys carried out in 2001 by researchers 
from the NGO ?Centro Guaman Poma de Ayala? in the department of Cuzco report that 
while nationwide statistics show that twenty-five percent of all Peruvians suffer from 
chronic malnutrition, the rate almost doubles in Cuzco, reaching almost forty-three 
percent amongst the department?s population (Quiroz ?Agriculture, Trade?; Laurent et 
al).8
 Subsidy influenced shifts in consumption patterns not only affect the health of 
Quechua families, but also decrease the profits of local, small-scale farmers. Many 
economists, politicians and intellectuals have suggested that in order to address Per??s 
food supply problems, the production of  ?traditional?, high-protein, vitamin rich staples 
265
 such as quinua, kiwicha and tarwi should be supported by the government since, ?it 
may be easier to improve a traditional staple than to control the consequences of 
introducing a new one? (Sandoval and Sandoval 12). Cuzco based companies such as 
?Molicuzco? and ?Per? Inca? have recently begun to increase the regional and 
nationwide distribution and marketing of Andean products such as: quinua/kiwicha 
breakfast cereals and energy bars, quinua flakes (for pastries and mazamorras), popped 
quinua snacks, and maca/kiwicha/quinua flours and instant breakfast mixes. 
Unfortunately, these nutritious and easy to prepare foods are still sold at prices which 
make the products inaccessible to the poor Peruvian families who need them most.  
Yet despite all of the pressures of globalization, urbanization and negative 
social stigmatization attached to some Andean foods, Quechua culinary traditions 
continue to flourish in both rural communities and cities throughout the Andes . In 
regional, village, neighborhood and family festivals or rituals; cooking competitions 
and ?Gastronomical Festivals?; as well as in the exclusive restaurants and tourist 
oriented caf?s serving the ?Cocina Novoandina?, the flavors, ingredients and techniques 
of generations of Quechua cooks continue to be prepared, served and enjoyed. The 
Quechua food-universe is cyclical in nature and in order to understand its rhythms and 
nuances, one must also be able to identify the meanings associated with annual 
festivities, as well as ?everyday?, context specific dishes (Menenses 102, Ossio 
?Aspectos simb?licos? 569-597). In the Andes, this gastronomical cycle still functions 
with surprising regularity and the preparation, selling and consumption of certain foods 
signal an entire calendar of special occasions. Carnival season, Holy Week and Corpus 
Christi are all marked by the ?inside? and ?outside? preparation and consumption of 
266
 festivity-specific foods, while November?s D?a de todos los Santos fills the Mercado 
Central with tables of sweet breads baked in the shape of dolls and horses (t?anta 
wawa) which will later undergo mock baptisms, solemnly performed by the girls and 
boys who receive them as gifts. June?s tourist saturated Inti raymi festival also attracts 
scores of local families who bring their freshly harvested papas, ocas and habas to the 
outskirts of the Sacsayhuam?n ruins in order to bake the tubers in underground huatya
 ovens for themselves. In addition to these annual festivities, regional and community-
 based gastronomical celebrations organize cooking competitions and restaurant fairs.9
 Per??s New ?Alimentary Geography? and the ?Cocina Novoandina?
 Since the 1980s when Bernardo Roca Rey, the president of the Peruvian 
Gastronomical Academy, launched the culinary movement called ?Cocina 
Novoandina?, an interest in incorporating Andean ingredients into new recipes has also 
steadily grown in both exclusive restaurants and small, family owned eateries (Contreras 
R?zuri). The acceptance of ?New Andean? cuisine amongst different populations within 
Per? can be understood best perhaps by considering the notion of the shared meanings 
of food presented by Barthes in the essay, ?Towards a Psychosociology of 
Contemporary Food Consumption.? In this formulation, three thematic concepts 
contribute to the creation of a food?s meaning:  ?historical? (properties of a food that 
allow people to maintain daily contact with a perceived ?cultural? past), ?feelings of 
inferiority/superiority? (certain ?superior? foods are sought out, while ?inferior? foods 
are avoided since they harm the eater?s social status) and ?health? (emphasis is placed 
on the ?traditional? healthfulness of certain foods) (ibid. 22-25). In the case of the 
267
 ?Cocina Novoandina?, the ?historical? and ?health? values of Andean products such as 
tarwi, ch?u?o, quinua, kiwicha, moraya, cochayuyu, maca, coca, uchu, olluco and oca 
are marketed to both Peruvian and tourist consumers, while the meanings associated 
with ?feelings of inferiority/superiority? are the most difficult to overcome in 
convincing middle and lower class urban mestizos and runas (particularly adolescents) 
to consume ?New? Andean cuisine (Quispe Ricalde). 
As Douglas points out in her well-known essay, ?Deciphering a Meal?, the 
various meanings expressed by foods are often both subtle and highly complex:  ?If 
food is treated as a code, the message it encodes will be found in the pattern of social 
relations being expressed. The message is about different degrees of hierarchy, 
inclusion and exclusion, boundaries and transactions across boundaries. Like sex, the 
taking of food has a social component, as well as a biological one? (61). Thus, upper 
and upper middle class consumers (particularly in an urban, coastal context) tend to 
view these same Andean products with a lens similar to that of a tourist diner?as 
?exotic?, ?organic? survivors from a long ago healthy and more tranquil era.10
 Consequently, maca juices and liquors are marketed as the Peruvian ?eau de vive?, full 
of potent, vital energy, while coca ice cream, candies and liquors are sold under labels 
that remind the consumer of the healing powers long associated with the leaf.11 While a 
white, upper class Cuzco teen might find the idea of a coca flavoured ice cream cone 
intriguing, a rural migrant intent on learning Spanish and establishing a new, urban 
identity will tend to keep his distance from coca leaf products, or ch?u?o soups.
 Although the basis of the ?Cocina Novandina? centers on ingredients that have 
been cultivated, prepared and consumed by Quechua families for centuries, Novandina 
268
 cooks often integrate ?exotic? cooking techniques and ingredients in their creation of a 
fusion cuisine that they hope will be more palatable to demanding clients. In the 
kitchen of a novoandina chef, quinua flour may be mixed with wheat flour to create 
hearty and nutritious pastries, while boiled sweet potato, quinua flour, lliccha greens
 and a beaten egg are combined to make ?quinua cr?pes?. Cheese, cilantro, onion, garlic, 
oregano and cumin have long been adapted to the recipes of the Quechua kitchen and 
?Novoandina? chefs also frequently incorporate these ingredients into their dishes. As 
Brillat Savarin would say, the ?alimentary geography? of Andean cuisine has been 
expanded, as new ingredients are combined with the old in an effort to create new 
flavors, textures and dishes. 
Although Fern?ndez-Armesto acknowledges the success of ?fusion? and 
?international? cuisines in the past few decades, he still admits, ?Food is not easily 
communicable between cultures? (137). This difficulty clearly concerns many Peruvian 
chefs and as the Lime?o chef Claudio Meneses points out, even if we assume that 
Peruvian foods and flavors might be acceptable to an international palate, the products 
necessary for the production of the ?Cocina Novandina? are not easy to obtain overseas:  
?. . . si bien se puede reproducir en la agricultura del Per? cualquier cosa que crece en 
cualquier parte del mundo, al rev?s no ocurre lo mismo . . .? (81).12 Another important 
point brought up by Meneses is the difficulty of exporting a cuisine that has not yet 
been accepted (or perfected) domestically (Meneses). In this context Meneses brings up 
the example of the cuy, ?. . . ni siquiera ha logrado popularizarse fuera del Per? no 
andino; mucho menos internacionalizarse. Tenemos pues una cocina dif?cil de 
reproducir fuera del Per?? (ibid.). Indeed, the idea that cuy al horno or cuy chactado 
269
 might enjoy success internationally among non-Andean diners does seem highly 
unlikely, although one should not assume that widespread domestic success is a 
prerequisite for the exportation of ?Novoandina? cuisine. Dishes elaborated with 
ch?u?o, ca?ihua, charqui, or mote do not carry a negative stigma when served abroad, 
even if domestically certain Peruvian diners might feel hesitant to consume these 
foods.13 Of course it is always possible that in the complex currents of international 
trade and trends, Andean products like quinua and maca which are beginning to find 
success abroad, might soon discover newfound acceptance at home.14
 Urban Migration and Changing Alimentary Patterns
 Imallach??? What?ll Happen??
 Imallach? warmi wawacha    What?ll happen to the little girl?                                                                   
Hayk?allach? warmi wawacha     How much?ll happen to the little girl                 
warmi qhepanpi purinallanqa                  who only walks behind a woman?                                                                         
Imallach? qhari wawacha    What?ll happen to the little boy                       
warmi qhepanpi purinallanqa     who only walks behind a woman?  (5) 
Chankaka hina qhawaypayana     One must watch over her like chankaka             
Az?car hina qhawaypayana     One must watch over her like sugar
 Imallach? warmi wawacha                  What?ll happen to the little girl?      
Hayk?allach? warmi wawacha      How much?ll happen to the little girl                     
warmi qhepanpi purinallanqa                                   who only walks behind a woman?     (10)
 Imallach? qhari wawacha                   What?ll happen to the little boy?            
Wiksananaypaq santo remedio15      For my stomach a sacred remedy            
Imallach? warmi wawacha                                       What?ll happen to the little girl?                                               
Hayk?allach? warmi wawacha      How much?ll happen to the little girl         
warmi qhepanpi purinallanqa      who only walks behind a woman?     (15)
 Imallach? qhari wawacha      What?ll happen to the little boy                         
warmi qhepanpi purinallanqa                   who only walks behind a woman?   
Az?car hina qhawapayana      One must watch over her like sugar                
Chankaka hina qhawapayana      One must watch over her like chankaka 
Imayach? noqapas kani                And what?ll happen to me?            (20)
 Imayach? noqapas kani      And what?ll happen to me?
 Imallach? qhari wawacha      What?ll happen to the little boy                          
warmi qhepanpi purinallanqa       who only walks behind a woman 
270
 Chaynallataq noqapas kani       For I too live like this                              
Chaynallataq noqapas kani       For I too live this this                         (25)
 (Dominga Quispe)      (my translation)
 While watching over her herd of more than fifty alpacas, ten-year-old Dominga 
Quispe intoned the slow, plaintive strains of this disquieting song which I recorded in 
July, 2002 and have transcribed and translated above. Having been asked to perform 
her favorite song (?taki?), Dominga did not hesitate to share the sad verses of 
Imallach?. The conversation immediately preceding her performance had dealt with the 
positive and negative aspects of her shepherding duties that involve long, windy days 
spent on a 14,500 foot mountain pass overlooking her family?s home. Dominga 
admitted that while she loves her animals, she sometimes wishes that she could attend 
school with other children-- although she quickly noted the impossibility of such an 
idea, since her mother needed her help around the house and pastures. Dominga?s 
preferred taki repeatedly asks (eight times in fact) ?what?ll become? (Imallach?) of the 
girl or boy who must walk only behind a woman and refers to the strains placed on the 
family members left behind when a father, husband or brother must travel to the city in 
search of wage labor. Like the girl in the song, Dominga has also spent the past three 
years of her youth walking ?only behind a women?, as she lives with her younger 
siblings and mother while her father (like most of the other fathers in her community) 
and older brother spends many months each year looking for work in the urban center 
of Cuzco. 
The multi-genre study of Quechua narrations presented in the previous chapters 
reveals the alternate ways in which culinary representations condemn the excesses of 
271
 hegemonic forces while also depicting runa tactics for achieving socio-economic 
independence and influence. Quechua texts?like the song transcribed and translated 
above?may also reflect the pressure and challenges of a rapidly changing global 
economy in which the status of the Quechua food-universe still remains unclear. Even 
in rural Quechua communities which continue to practice many of the same 
agropastoral economic activities which have sustained them for centuries, signs of new 
hardships and challenges have begun to surface. 
This song begins almost like a riddle by posing a series of questions which 
immediately engages the listener(s) by asking her to participate in the conversation-
 song. Like Incaic hymns and contemporary riddles, this song repeatedly poses difficult 
questions in the form of semantic couplets: -?Imallach? warmi (qhari) wawacha/ 
Hayk?allach? warmi (qhari) wawacha.? Although the singer never explicitly answers 
the uncertainty of what will become of the child who ?only walks behind a woman?, she 
does follow up these questions with a warning: ?Chankaka hina qhawaypayana/ az?car 
hina qhawaypayana? (?One must watch over her like chankaka/ One must watch over 
her like sugar?) (6-7, 18-19). This semantic couplet revolves around the verb ?qhaway? 
(?to look/to watch?) inflected with the frequentative infix ?paya? which indicates 
continuity and repetition (Ar?oz and Salas 120). This line then, suggests the need to 
?look at continually?, ?guard?, or ?watch over? one?s children. Dominga herself clearly 
described the meaning of the simile in this line when she explained the difficulty in 
acquiring chankaka and especially sugar in her isolated puna home. This means, the 
singer explains, that mothers must watch over their children just as carefully as they 
272
 protect the family?s precious stock of sugar from the hands of sweet-toothed 
(?hillusapa?) boys and girls. 
Chankaka is solid, unrefined cane sugar and is relatively cheaper than the fine-
 grain, industrially processed, white sugar. In Los r?os profundos Ernesto refers to a treat 
enjoyed by Abancay?s children that calls for ?la chancaca m?s barata que hac?an en las 
haciendas del valle? mixed with ?lim?n real?, forming ?el manjar m?s delicado y 
poderoso del mundo.? (Arguedas 204). Children in Q?eros also savor the small pieces 
of chankaka which they sometimes receive as a gift when a family member or 
comadre/padre returns from a trip to a town or city where the sweet can be acquired. 
Ironically, the highly valued sugar and chankaka mentioned in the song are precisely 
the kinds of foodstuffs that must be purchased with cash acquired by the wage labor of 
an absent father. By the end of the song, the performer?s questions become less abstract 
and more personal as she reveals that her own biography parallels that of the ?little girl? 
mentioned throughout the song:  ?Imayach? noqapas kani? (And what?ll happen to 
me?), ?Chaynallataq noqapas kani? (?For I too live like this?) (20-21, 24-25). In the 
final lines of the song, the performer answers the riddle of who the song refers to, but 
she does not offer any answer to her own difficult questions regarding the future of 
runa children who grow up in single parent households. As if to emphasize the gravity 
of this difficult question and painful recognition, the lines are repeated verbatim in 
immediate succession.      
Although the Quechua texts discussed in this dissertation should be valued and 
analysed in terms of their aesthetic qualities, they also serve as important indicators of 
the needs, worries, struggles and triumphs of the texts? creators and audiences. In this 
273
 respect, the song Imallach??? is no different; it provides us with important insight into 
the struggles of rural Quechua families who must send one or more of their family 
members off to the city in search of wage labor. In rural regions of Per?, women like 
Dominga?s mother must assume all of the household and agricultural tasks during the 
extended absences of their partners. This increased workload leaves little time for the 
processing and preparation of time-consuming ingredients and dishes (tarwi and quinua 
require fairly extensive processing, as does ca?ihua which must be toasted and ground 
into flour) (Mar?a Quispe, personal communication). Urban cooks, on the other hand, 
may have more access to economic resources than their rural counterparts, but they 
often complain that it is impossible to find high quality ingredients in the city and that 
their children are not interested in eating ?comida de campesinos? (Alejandra Mango, 
Julia Condori, personal communication).           
The pressures of global economic forces combined with the social stigmas 
attached to certain products pertaining to the Quechua food-universe have led to 
changes in the Quechua kitchen during the past several decades. Rice has largely 
replaced quinua as a staple grain for most Quechua families who do not produce 
quinua, while the relatively high price of cuy and kiwicha purchased in the market 
means that cooks reserve the preparation of these high-protein products for special 
occasions. Valderrama and Escalante argue that changes in the contemporary Quechua 
food-universe extends into the countryside as well. The anthropologists assert: 
Con las migraciones a las ciudades, con los cambios de cultivo que se 
introducen debido a una acelerada orientaci?n hacia los mercados, y debido a 
ciertas tendencias individualistas que ingresan a las Comunidades, la comida en 
la sociedad andina va perdiendo su antiguo significado y las t?cnicas que se 
usaban en su preparaci?n. (?La comida en los Andes? 4)16
274
 The tendency for runa and mestizos families in the department of Cuzco to 
increase their consumption of processed carbohydrates (polished white rice, noodles 
and bread) as a replacement for Andean grains and to consume less calcium and iron 
rich Andean vegetables such as,  llulluchu (algae), lliccha (quinua leaves), Llutush 
(olluco leaves) and kanchiyuyu (tarwi leaves) continues, in spite of surveys which show 
that both urban residents (83.5%) and rural populations (72.6%) consider Andean 
products to be the healthiest of food choices for their families (Laurent, Romero 
?Tratado de libre comercio?). Indeed, Quechua cooks living both in the city of Cuzco 
and the surrounding countryside cite both economic pressures and the changing tastes 
of their children as the reasons behind their decisions to abandon or alter certain dishes 
prepared by their own mothers and grandmothers (ibid. personal communication).
 Food often serves as a marker of class, ethnicity, race and even gender?a 
characteristic that has unfortunately contributed to a devaluation of many Andean 
foodstuffs historically associated with ?poor?, ?ignorant? and ?backwards? runa
 lifestyles. With Per??s continuing food security crisis and staggering rates of chronic 
malnutrition and poverty, the need for programs focused on renewing the cultivation, 
processing, dissemination, preparation and consumption of nutritious Andean foods has 
become vitally urgent. An increased consumption of foods such as, protein-rich tarwi, 
quinua, ca?ihua and kiwicha; calcium-rich llullucha and ca?ihua; iron- rich lliccha 
greens and chulco herb and the iodine-rich qochayuyu would provide a cost effective 
and relatively accessible relief to many of the country?s nutritional and food 
importation problems. Development workers and government strategists should 
consider the food security issues of the country (and especially the Andean region) 
275
 before turning to ?export strategies? as their primary anti-poverty weapon. By replacing 
imported, nutritionally inferior staples like white bread, noodles and rice with these and 
other Andean foods, the levels of malnutrition and vitamin and mineral deficiencies 
would decrease, while profits for local farmers would substantially increase. 
Since the national government?s interest in promoting and supporting Andean 
agriculture remains dreadfully inadequate, departmental and regional governments 
must seek out creative financial and marketing strategies for Andean projects. Regional 
and community wide gastronomical festivals, cooking contests and recipe publications 
organized by municipal governments and NGOs have provided a positive point of 
departure. Likewise, in Cuzco and the nearby countryside, ?culinary education? 
programs disseminated in primary schools, community centers and on radio programs 
are making efforts to provide information about Andean products and to dispel negative 
myths and stereotypes associated with these foods. Well-meaning (and well-funded) 
international groups such as the United Nation?s ?Grupo tem?tico? have expressed their 
opinion that increasing the production and consumption of Andean products could 
serve as an important poverty reduction measure, yet since the group?s formation in 
1993, they have achieved little real-world impact.17
 Perhaps one of the ?creative financial strategies? for supporting these projects 
and agricultural education campaigns might come from a more organized effort (on a 
department [province/state] wide level) to seek investment in processing plants for 
Andean products that could be distributed nationally and internationally as ?organic? or 
?natural? foods. Organic energy bars and pastries made from ca?ihua, kiwicha, quinua 
and tarwi flours could be sweetened with the high quality chocolate and honey 
276
 produced in Quillabamba and could at the very least, be sold in the tourist saturated city 
of Cuzco and the towns of the ?Sacred Valley?. Bolivian farmers? advocacy groups 
such as ANAPQUI have managed to increase the export (and internal consumption) of 
quinua and should serve as an example for Andean producers. The difficult task of 
combating the dire nutritional situation in the Peruvian Andes will require numerous 
creative plans and strategies in the coming years, yet the history of this region?s 
innovative and successful food production should give us every indication that such a 
goal is indeed attainable. Across genres and historical periods, culinary representations 
in Quechua texts have often served the purpose of critiquing oppressive, hegemonic 
groups, maintaining mutually beneficial relationships with the gods and for depicting 
the organizational and economic influence, guile, creativity and dignity of Quechua 
cooks. In the coming years, runa communities and individuals will need to use all of 
the skills and talents demonstrated by the cooks represented in these texts in order to 
advocate for the revaluation of the Quechua food-universe?a goal which would go a 
long way towards solving the food-security crises which currently plagues the Andean 
nations. 
In many of the contemporary Quechua narrations discussed above?the novel 
Los r?os profundos, the testimonio Autobiograf?a and the willakuy performances 
presented in chapter four?food-related behaviors and events are nearly always linked 
to the issue of trust. The chicheras? mistrust of town officials in Los r?os profundos 
sparks their uprising and march to the community salt cache. In Autobiograf?a, Asunta 
continually mentions examples of how food behaviors can make or break trust-based 
relationships among runa. Domestic partnerships are broken or sealed with specific 
277
 food-related gestures (rejecting a home cooked meal and extending an invitation to a 
lavish lunch, respectively); children are nurtured or turned away by their caretakers; 
and regular customers are secured or lost. The relative status of such interpersonal pacts 
can often be understood by means of the complex signals related to the preparation and 
serving of particular foods. In Isicha Puytu, Yana kuru (?Black Worm?) and Layqa 
wayk?uq (?The Witch Cook?), conflict-laden representations of food and cooks signal 
the presence of tensions and the changing nature of interpersonal relationships within 
runa communities. When husbands and sons reject the meals of their wives and 
mothers for fear of poisoning, when daughters refuse to accept the treats carefully 
prepared for them by their mothers and when cannibalistic condenados wander through 
the fields surrounding a village, something is definitely amiss. Throughout the Andes, 
food cultivation, preparation and consumption habits are changing; many adult men 
and their adolescent children are migrating to urban areas in search of wage labor, 
while news, trends and products from cities arrive to rural villages with increasing 
rapidity. Thus, for a culture in which meal sharing plays an important role in sealing 
familial or community alliances, ratifying business contracts and expressing affection 
and esteem, the frequency with which one hears tales of food-related mistrust signals 
the current tensions felt within many runa families and communities. 
Although different genres may address similar themes and sentiments, each one 
is characterized by its own voice and form. A creator may, however, incorporate the 
voice (?spirit?) of one genre into the form of another (Gu?rard 31). Thus, while Los 
r?os profundos is a novel?an extended piece of prose fiction containing the elements 
of character, action, incident and plot?it also incorporates other genres (songs, poems, 
278
 oral narratives, myth) within its narrative structure. The genre of the novel provides 
Arguedas with an aesthetic space in which he can develop complex character 
interactions, lengthy descriptions of nature, perceptive observations of social practices, 
as well as tension filled scenes of action and conflict. By incorporating the genres of 
poetry and song into his novel, Arguedas focuses attention on particularly emotional 
scenes in which characters decide to use lyrical performances to express their feelings. 
As intense concentrations of verbal and rhythmic expression, poetry and songs present 
emotions, arguments and critiques in succinct and memorable ways. The use of figures 
of speech and metrical composition (instead of the ordered syntactical structures used 
in most prose texts) obliges the reader (or listener) of poetry, song and riddles to 
participate actively in interpreting the text?s meaning(s) and to pay close attention to 
both the form and the content of the composition. 
The Quechua riddle is another aesthetic category which demands an active 
audience and which depends on the skilful use of clever adjectives and tropes 
(particularly metaphor) to create succinct and memorable enunciations. Since Quechua 
riddles and willakuy are almost always transmitted orally, the beginning of these texts 
is signalled not by a book cover or the opening credits of a film, but by a ?trigger 
phrase?. While riddles begin with the phrase ?Imasmari, Imasmari . . .? (?Guess what, 
guess what??), willakuy often begin with the phrase ??awpaqraqcha . . .? (?Long ago . . 
.?) and end with a variation of ?antesmantaraq, paymi willawan ?awpa timpupi karan?
 (?she [or he] told me this story in the times of long ago . . .?).18 These genre-specific 
codes signal to the reader that she should look for certain tropes, styles and 
characteristics and also focus her attention on key passages contained within the text. 
279
 Of course the creator/author is under no obligation to follow any genre-specific ?rules? 
thus, ?The primary act of the generic critic is suppositional and metaphoric:  let us 
explain this literary text by reading it in terms of that genre? (Rosamarin 40). 
In Quechua genres which are primarily oral-- the willakuy, song/hymn, poem 
and testimonio?maintaining the chronological progression of events is not as 
important to the creator and audience as following these genre-specific codes. Although 
Asunta shares her life history in Autobiografia, she takes great liberty with the order in 
which she tells her story and often shifts the chronological direction of her narrative if a 
myth, anecdote or bit of advice occurs to her. Garcilaso also integrates many elements 
of the Quechua oral tradition into Los comentarios reales. This historical chronicle also 
adopts a loose chronological structure and although Garcilaso uses Renaissance 
rhetorical strategies in the construction of his narrative?he conscientiously cites both 
classic and contemporary sources, he invokes Cicero?s account of De inventione when 
describing the dawn of Incan civilization and he provides minute details of battles, 
customs and laws (amplificatio) (Abbott 88, 95)?he also incorporates Incan mythical 
figures, anecdotes and oral tales into his chronicle. In this way, Garcilaso eschews the 
chronological narration of events in favor of one of his foremost concerns, retaining the 
reader?s interest. 
 In this dissertation, texts of many different genres have addressed the increased 
struggles and stigmas associated with the Quechua food-universe. Some portents of the 
future are contained in the closing lines of Autobiograf?a when Asunta mentions that if 
she were younger, she would try to organize an entrepreneurial venture selling clothing 
since the increasing costs of staple, Andean foodstuffs continue to rise, thus reducing 
280
 the profits for market vendors, cooks and chicheras. In the willakuy ?Isicha Puytu?, the 
title character refuses to accept her mother?s gift of foods made from quinua, mote, 
ch?u?o and ca?ihua because she associates these foodstuffs with the poverty and social 
stigmas from which she is trying to distance herself. In the ever-evolving repertoire of 
Quechua cultural texts, however, aesthetic genres are always changing and emerging as 
new generations of runa artists seek to understand and interpret the world around them 
in meaningful ways. In the last several decades, a new musical genre called chicha has 
become extremely popular amongst the children of runa migrants who were born in 
urban areas and who may or may not have learned Quechua from their parents. This 
new musical genre fuses the instruments and rhythms of highland, Quechua huayno
 songs with tropical, coastal cumbia and favors socially engaged lyrics that often 
denounce the poverty, racism, violence, dangerous working conditions and loneliness 
which runa migrants must face in the cities. The overwhelming success of chicha
 music suggests that these lyrics strike a chord with listeners who are displeased with 
their current living conditions and who still turn to cultural texts as a way to understand 
and improve the world in which they live. 
281
 1
  Farmers? memories of these government policies are keen, which has led to passionate opposition to the 
US/Per? ?Tratado de Libre Comercio? currently under negotiation. Many small-scale farmers are worried 
that their products will not be able to compete with a flood of untaxed (and heavily subsidized) US 
agricultural imports and that only the huge coastal growers (of mangoes, asparagus, artichokes, sugar) 
will benefit from the trade policy (?Conferencia sobre el Tratado de Libre Comercio?, Cuzco, Per?, 
10/11/05).
 2 The FAO reports that in 1994 Per? was the largest producer of coca leaf in the world with an estimated 
output of between US$500 million to US$1 billion (Quiroz ?Agriculture, Trade?). The production of the 
coca leaf fluctuates greatly depending on weather patterns and the current government?s reaction towards 
international pressures to eliminate the crop.
 3
  The global market for kiwicha appears even more limited, although its consumption has risen in recent 
years in Andean cities such as Cuzco with the marketing of packaged energy bars and api de kiwicha?
 instant hot beverage mixes (Romero).
 4
  The president of the Bolivian ?Asociaci?n Nacional de Productores de Quinua? (ANAPQUI) travelled 
to New York in June, 1996 to appeal his group?s case in front of a General Assembly of the United 
Nations. ANAPQUI farmers claimed that the U.S. quinua patent endangered Bolivian food security, thus 
constituting a violation of human rights (?Agricultores bolivianos?). Indeed, since the 2002 FAO ?World 
Food Summit? in Rome the attainment of food security?defined as ?the existence of physical and 
economic access to enough safe and nutritious foods to satisfy the requirements of an entire healthy and 
active population??has been increasingly referred to in terms of a human rights issue (Herrera Zegarra, 
Jonsson 55-65). As Koos Neefje of OKFAM UK sustains, ?Nos adherimos a ANAPQUI en solicitar para 
que la patente sea suspendida. Es una clara amenaza a la seguridad alimentaria. Patentar cualquier 
cultivo de alimento es moralmente ofensivo, y no debe ser permitido por los gobiernos? (ibid.). 
5 Although he was a Peruvian poet and Quechua linguist, Guardia Mayorga also spent time investigating 
Quechua manuscripts near Cochabamba Bolivia and was a colleague of the Bolivian Quechua scholar 
Jes?s Lara (Itier ??Visi?n de los vencidos? 105-106).
 6
  In studying the changes in alimentary patterns on the island of Amantan? in Lake Titicaca, Gasc?n 
points out, ?No es gratuito el ?xito del arroz, es uno de los productos cuya comercializac?n ha sido m?s 
apoyada por los diferentes gobiernos peruanos en las ?ltimas d?cadas para cubrir especialmente la 
demanda de alimentos de las areas urbanas, ya fuese subsidiando su precio, ya incentivando su 
producci?n mediante gigantescas obras de irrigaci?n?(68).  
7
  In any case, studies have shown that government food aid programs do not reach a large number of 
hungry Peruvians. For instance, only twenty-two per cent of children (ages 6-14) living in highland 
villages and urban slums received aid from the ?Programa de Alimentaci?n Escolar (PAE)? in 1990 
(Quiroz ?Agriculture, Trade?). In the Q?eros region of Per? I have also observed the widespread sale and 
barter of government issued milk and nutritionally fortified crackers intended for school children in these 
highland villages. 
8
  Statistics measuring rates of anemia in the Cuzco department report even more staggering results; forty 
percent of women (ages 15-59) suffer from anemia, while a full seventy percent of children under the 
age of fifteen suffer from this iron deficiency disease (Laurent et al). In his conference presentation 
discussing malnutrition in Per? and in particular, within the Department of Cuzco, he did no offer 
hypotheses as to why the level of malnutrition in Cuzco is nearly double that of other Departments.
 9 Oropesa?s ?T?anta raymi? bread festival, Tip?n?s ?Festival del cuy?, Raqchi, Santiago and 
Andahuaylillas? annual cooking contests, and the monthly ?Festival Gastron?mico? held in the Cuzco 
neighborhoods of San Jer?nimo and San Sebasti?n are a few examples of community- based events 
which contribute to the diffusion of Quechua ingredients, recipes and flavors.
 10
  It has also been suggested that in an era when Peruvians lack a dominant political, athletic, or musical 
personality whom they can admire, they tend to look towards Peruvian products for a sense of stability 
and pride, ?Porque, a ver:  ?C?ando le ha faltado su aj? de gallina? ?Cu?ndo su ?Sublime? [Peruvian 
brand of chocolate] se ha metido un autogol? ?Acaso habr? un d?a en el que no dejemos de agradecer las 
maravillas eternizadas por los antiguos peruanos? . . .? (Comercio 10/9/05). The ?C?mprale a Per?! 
campaign attempts to capitalize on this sentiment and to appeal to nationalistic passions in its efforts to 
promote the increased consumption of Peruvian products.
282
 11 Of course the idea that certain foods contain curative powers is certainly not a new one:  ?En el Per? se 
comen platos que curan la resaca y platos que despiertan la libido y platos que comemos para curarnos 
todas las enfermedades. Estos platos tienen que a?adirse a los platos puramente de car?cter ritual. . .? 
(Menenses 99).
 12 Of course many other Lime?o chefs (where the majority of Per??s cooking academies, culinary 
publications and exclusive restaurants are located) do not even consider the idea of internationalizing a 
?New Andean Cuisine?, but instead concentrate on the exportation of more ?coastal? cooking styles. Chef 
Gast?n Acurio for example, believes that in the next ten to fifteen years the internationalization of 
Peruvian cuisine will have occurred, ?vamos a ver una maravillosa explosi?n por todo el mundo de 
restaurantes peruanos entendidos como concepto, cebicher?as, poller?as ?Peruvian style?, chifas . . .? 
(Contreras R?zuri).
 13 While many Lime?o chefs may be focused on ?internationalizing? Peruvian cuisine, the owner/chefs of 
various ?Novoandina? restaurants in Cuzco claim that they are finding success right at home. These chefs 
cite the recent popularity of ?vegetarian lifestyles? as having contributed to the success of their menu 
items (amongst primarily female, international clients), since Andean products include such a wide 
variety of nutritious vegetables, legumes and grains (Gonz?lez, Condori, Fern?ndez personal 
communication).
 14
  Indeed, tequila consumption underwent a similar process of ?re-appropriation? by Mexican consumers 
in the last century. After suffering decades of decreased consumption at home, tequila was 
?rediscovered? by Mexican consumers in the 1970s after having enjoyed widespread success in European 
and North American markets. 
15
  ?Santo remedio? is the general name for any number of herbal remedies used in Quechua households 
throughout the Andes and may include:  infusions, plaster casts, or topical ointments made from herbal 
mixtures. When one asks the local hampiq?healer for a remedy s/he often replies:  ?Qoshaykita chaymi 
santo remedio, ratuchalla thaniychinki? (?I am giving you this santo remedio, you?ll be cured shortly?) 
(Wensy Condori, personal communication).  
16
  Gasc?n presents a similar argument with regards to the Quechua kitchen in the department of Puno:  
?El campesino actual ya no come lo que com?a su padre o su abuelo. Muchos productos y platos han 
desaparecido, o su consumo ha disminuido para dar paso a otros nuevos no aut?ctonos, generalmente 
procedentes del mercado capitalista (59). A 2001 study of food consumption in the department of Cuzco 
does indeed show a significant age-related difference in diet. Amongst cuzque?os age forty and older, 
Andean products comprised a full twenty-eight percent of the group?s diet, while the diets of young 
adults between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five consisted of only thirteen percent of Andean 
products (Laurent et al).
 17
  The group (financed by the EU, Inter-American Development Bank and various Swiss, German, U.S. 
and Dutch agencies among others) claims:  ?Aunque la ejecuci?n de estos proyectos todav?a no ha 
empezado debido a los cambios producidos en el clima pol?tico, el compromiso por ejecutar estrategias 
que promuevan los productos andinos sigue siendo fuerte entre los asociados para el desarrollo y el 
Gobierno? (Abbes ?Promoci?n del cultivo?). This statement highlights the limited impact which these 
large, international (and highly bureaucratized) institutions can attain ?on-the-ground? and reinforces the 
need for locally developed educational and promotional campaigns carried out by community residents 
(but which benefit from the organizational and financial support of international or non-governmental 
institutions).  
18
  William Labov refers to these spontaneous, oral narratives as ?natural narratives? and he argues that 
they are structured in six main moments:  abstract (introduction, summary, reflection) orientation 
(places story in time, place, situation) complicating action, evaluation (indicates importance of the 
story?s main point), resolution, coda (signals the story?s definite close). In Labov?s formulation, the 
?trigger phrase? would be referred to as ?abstract (363-70).
283
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ALISON KROGEL
 N. 10210 Ridgecrest Dr. Spokane, WA  99208
 amkrogel@yahoo.com
 EDUCATION:
  University of Maryland at College Park
 Doctor of Philosophy in Comparative Literature:                                            [4/10/06]
 Dissertation Advisor:  Dr. Regina Harrison
 Dissertation Title: ?Watantin yarqaykuta thaninayku?:  Culinary Representations in 
                               Quechua Cultural Texts
 Brief Dissertation Abstract:
 Throughout history and across continents food has always played important symbolic and 
pragmatic roles in the shaping of political, economic, social and cultural practices. This 
dissertation explores the representations of Andean foodstuffs and cooks within a variety of 
colonial and contemporary texts produced in Quechua-- the language of the Incas spoken today 
by more than ten million people. While the readings I offer locate texts within significant 
political, historical and economic contexts, I also focus on the construction of detailed semantic 
and syntactical analyses. In studying a diverse selection of texts?including oral narratives, 
songs, historical chronicles, Incaic hymns, poetry, novels and photographs--, this dissertation 
draws on scholarly works from a number of academic fields. It is my intention that the 
interdisciplinary nature of this multi-genre, multilingual study will contribute to fields such as 
Andean Studies, Latin American Studies, Comparative Literature, Anthropology, Native 
American Studies and Cultural Studies.
  University of Maryland at College Park          [5/02]            
Master of Arts in Comparative Literature                                                        
 Instituto Bartolom? de las Casas at Cuzco, Per? [8/01]
 Certificate of Proficiency in Advanced Quechua Language Study                           
 University of  Washington at Seattle           [6/00]
 Bachelor of Arts in Spanish and Portuguese Languages and Literatures     
and Comparative Literature. Summa Cum Laude, 3.97.           
AWARDS:  
 University of Maryland Graduate School Dissertation Fellowship                     [12/05]               
Chosen as first alternate for fellowship 
 Center for Teaching Excellence Outstanding Teaching Assistant Award             [5/05]                                                  
Chosen as the outstanding TA for the Comparative Literature Department 
during the Fall 2004/ Spring 2005 academic year
 Comparative Literature Program, University of Maryland         [11/03]          
Awarded ?ABD with distinction? during Doctoral Oral Examinations
  Cosmos Club Foundation Research Grant                                                             [1/02]                                              
Funding for fieldwork in Per? related to my Master?s project entitled:     
?The Wandering Song:  Quechua Oral Traditions in Per? and Beyond?
 Goldhaber Travel Grant           [3/01]
 Grant for travel to Conference on Andean Ethnography and Oral Literatures in 
Cuzco, Per?
  Latin American Studies Center Summer Research Grant                                      [6/01]
 Grant for Quechua language study and fieldwork/archival research on 
Quechua Oral tradition in Cuzco, Per? 
 University of Maryland Graduate School Fellowship  [9/00-6/01 & 9/02-6/03]
    Tuition remission and living stipend 
PUBLICATIONS:
  ?Constructing Cultures of Chicha:  Fusing Fronteras in a Lima Sound-
   Scape?. in Lusophone and Hispanic History, Literature & Culture:   
  Selected Proceedings from the 4th Annual Graduate Student Conference  
  at UC Santa Barbara. 2003. 121-131.
  ?El puente de los d?as:  Explorando el espacio temporal en la poes?a de 
  Jorge Carrera Andrade.? in Re/incidencias.  Quito, Ecuador:  no. 1  
(2002):  287-294.
  Gonzales, Odi. Tunupa:  el libro de las sirenas. trans. Alison Krogel. 
  Lima:  Ediciones el Santo Oficio, 2002. (translation of Spanish/Quechua 
  language poetry to the English)
 PRESENTATIONS:
  Spanish and Portuguese Department, University of Maryland                              [4/06]
   Spanish 798 Graduate Student Seminar: ?From Garcilaso to Vargas Llosa?
   Seminar Lecture:  ?Ret?rica renacentista y filolog?a Quechua en Comentarios 
                                             Reales
 Instituto Bartolom? de las Casas:  Cuzco, Per?.  [7/30/02]   
Conference on Andean Ethnography and Oral Literatures                                                                                        
Presentation:  ?La transcendencia del espacio y del tiempo:  el objeto ac?stico 
                        entre las mujeres mapuches y quichuas?
  University of California at Santa Barbara:          [4/18- 4/19/02]                                             
Graduate Student Conference on Lusophone & Hispanic History, Literature 
and Culture                                                      
Presentation:  ?Constructing Cultures of Chicha:  Fusing Fronteras in a Lima 
                                  Soundscape?
  New York University:                   [3/12/01]
 Globalization & its Demons Conference                                                                  
Presentation:  ?(Re)Demonizing the Orix?:  Globalism?s Entrance into the 
House of Candombl??
 FILM:
  Imallach?.                                                                                                            [11/02]
 This twelve minute documentary film (Spanish/Quechua language, subtitled in English) 
explores the effects of globalization and (im)migration pressures on Quechua women 
and their oral traditions. The film documents the songs, stories, struggles and strategies 
of Quechua women living in rural villages and urban cities of highland Per? and in 
neighborhoods of Queens, NY.     
WORK EXPERIENCE:
  University of Maryland World Literature Instructor   [9/03-5/05]               
Responsible for creating a syllabus and all accompanying activities, 
assignments and lectures for three courses per academic year (CMLT 270: 
World Literature and Social Change, CMLT 275: World Literature by Women, 
CMLT 277: Literature of the Americas, CMLT 277 Honors). 
Responsible for attending several Comparative Literature ?Pedagogical 
Seminars? each semester. In these seminars I have participated in, organized 
and presented various workshops focused on: improving pedagogical 
techniques for the literature and composition classroom, developing successful 
in-class activities, effectively designing assignments and assessment rubrics, 
implementing technology in the classroom and accommodating the needs of a 
diverse student body.
  University of Maryland Spanish Language Instructor                       [9/01- 5/03]
 Responsible for creating the syllabus and all accompanying activities for three 
courses per academic year (SPAN 103:  Intensive Beginning Spanish, SPAN 201:  
Intermediate Spanish Grammar, SPAN 211:  Intermediate Spanish Conversation). 
I also collaborated with fellow instructors in the design of the 5-6 exams which 
were administered during each semester.
 Responsible for completing one semester of ?Instructor Training? focusing on:
 improving foreign language instructors? pedagogical techniques, developing 
dynamic and successful in-class activities and effectively designing assignments 
and student assessments that reflect course objectives.
  State of Maryland Department of Human Resources & Social Services 
   Administration Spanish Language Translator                            [9/04-12/05]                                                                                                    
Responsible for proofreading English Language documents and then translating 
them into a neutral Latin American Spanish. Also responsible for formatting the 
graphic layout of various Social Services Administration documents. 
 National Foreign Language Center (NFLC):  College Park, MD 
Spanish Language Interpreter & Translator         [3/02-5/02]
 Served as a Spanish language interpreter for NFLC researchers conducting 
interviews of parents/guardians? opinions of the Maryland Juvenile Justice 
System.
 Responsible for translating interview questionnaires, transcripts, waivers, 
permission forms into Spanish.
  Video Editor/ Director of Photography:  independent project                 [5/02-11/02]
  Filmed documentary footage, conducted interviews and taped Quechua 
language songs in Queens, NY and Cuzco Per?; co-edited this footage during 
the production of a twelve minute documentary video entitled Imallach?. 
SERVICE ACTIVITIES:
  Nafiz:  Cuzco, Per? English Language Instructor                  [5/02-8/02; 5/01-8/01; 
                                                                                              5/05-12/05] 
Volunteer responsible for creating lessons and assignments designed to teach 
elements of English composition, beginning and intermediate English grammar 
and syntax and intermediate English conversation to Spanish and Quechua-
 speaking entrepreneurs.
 
 Fundaci?n CIMAS del Ecuador: Quito & Muisne, Ecuador                                                  
English Tutor/ Reforestation Volunteer          [6/99- 9/99]
 Volunteer in the Foundation?s reforestation project of Mangrove forests near 
coastal villages in the province of Esmeraldas.
 Volunteer English grammar and composition tutor for high school and              
              university students in Quito, Ecuador.
  American Red Cross:  Seattle, WA   
International Social Service Volunteer                         [9/98- 5/99]                                                 
Responsible for assisting International Social Service Caseworkers to create 
and update case files for individuals seeking to reestablish family ties after 
having been separated from their relatives by war, political conflicts or natural 
disasters.
 Responsible for organizing and facilitating ?Community Outreach Events? 
designed to explain the various Red Cross family tracing services available to 
members of refugee communities in the Seattle area.
 LANGUAGES:
  Native Language:  English  Near Native Fluency:  Spanish, Portuguese  
 Intermediate Fluency:  Quechua     Reading Fluency:  French, Italian