One of the things we never learned
about when I went to school was the history of South America before the Spanish
Conquest. There was (and still is) a
rich history, much of which we know about in some detail, culminating with the
ascendency of the Incan Empire in the 15th Century. One of the benefits of wandering through
Argentina, Chile, Peru, and Ecuador is getting exposed to this rich and
fascinating history of pre-Colombian South America.
We’ve visited several museums in
Uruguay, Argentina, Chile, Peru, and Ecuador.
The question arises in all of these countries why the dominant cultures
(Incan and pre-Columbian) chose to live uphill, high in the Andes, rather than
downhill, in the flatlands where the vast majority of the current population
lives in these countries. Isn’t life
easier at sea level where the food literally grows on trees and the physical
demands on the body are much less? The
exhibits in the archeological museums suggest that the trade-off of low oxygen
and limited water and vegetation uphill was more than balanced by the abundant migrating
camelids that were hunted for food, the defensible positions to protect the
mountain dwellers from more warlike inhabitants of the lowlands, and protection
from vector-borne diseases like malaria in the drier climates at higher
altitudes. It is likely that all of
these benefits encouraged migration to and through the Andean altiplano in
ancient times, but my best guess would be that escape from malaria and other
tropical diseases was the major impetus.
If my guess
is correct, it begs the question of why the official U.S. government advice to
visitors in the region from the State Department stresses the high risk of
exposure to malaria in Andean Northwest Argentina and parts of Peru where there
are few, if any, mosquitos and therefore little chance of contracting malaria
or other mosquito-borne infectious diseases.
All of the State Department’s propaganda I’ve been given on my visits to
Salta and Chile’s Atacama Desert warns me of the risk I’m taking being
there. Nobody there knows anyone who has
malaria, or at least they deny any such friends exist when asked.
Peru was a
dangerous place for North American visitors in 1982 due to the ultra-left wing
guerrilla movement known as “Shining Path” (“Sendero Luminoso”),
which killed or kidnapped a lot of people during their well-publicized reign of
terror beginning in 1980. An estimated
69,000 people were left dead or missing in Peru during the conflict between
Shining Path and the Peruvian military authorities. Ultimately, the Peruvian army under President
Fujimori killed or captured enough of the terrorists to effectively destroy the
movement in the 1990s. I wonder if the
alleged malaria threat was/is a politically expedient excuse to prevent, or at
least discourage, U.S. citizens from putting themselves at risk in Peru and the
surrounding countries during the decades of Shining Path’s existence as a threat. And I wonder if the malaria threat will be
decreased with the news that a Peruvian military court sentenced one of the
last surviving leaders of Shining Path, “Comrade Artemio”, to life in prison on
June 8, 2013.
Another
interesting place we visited is Santa Rosa de Tastil, high in the Andes above
Salta in Northwest Argentina. This huge
area of about 600 AD-1300 AD (plus or minus a few years) ruins is an obscure
archeological treasure that nobody goes to because it’s so hard to get to. It’s accessible by car, but a long way uphill
and far from anything else. There’s a
museum on site, with some fascinating indigenous mummies and other interesting
artifacts recovered from the site, which sprawls over a hilltop a couple of
thousand feet above a river. Fragments
of pottery litter the site, with enough remaining of the walls to see the
outlines of a large pre-Columbian city etched out of the landscape. Apparently this city was one of the larger
communities of its time, dominating a major transit and trade route along the
high Andes (at an elevation of about three thousand, five hundred meters), and
collecting tolls from passing groups and individuals. In the thin, dry air at this altitude,
vector-borne diseases were almost certainly not a concern. For
those of you who are interested in learning more about the ruins of Santa Rosa
de Tastil, Roger and Suzanne visit the site in Chapter 6 of The Empanada
Affair, a painless ($0.99) way of visiting several of the fascinating
indigenous cities of the Northwest Argentinian Andes.
Also well
worth doing is visiting the more elaborate museums in San Pedro de Atacama, in
Chile’s Atacama Desert directly on the other side of the Andes from Salta,
Argentina. The anthropology of the
hunter-gatherers who migrated in the high Andes in search of llamas and guanacos
for food and wool is presented in much more detail here, and it’s a fascinating
glimpse into a history we don’t learn in the U.S. school systems. The early inhabitants roamed Andean South
America from Colombia to Chile, actually emulating the route that would be used
by the Incas and the Spanish Conquistadores many centuries later.
Incan
Museums in Peru and Ecuador are frequent and elegant. They also tend to have a lot of priceless
statues and gold jewelry. Roger and
Suzanne visit (and describe) a couple of these museums in Lima and Cuzco in The
Surreal Killer, and they will visit another Incan museum in Quito, Ecuador in
an upcoming book in this series when they solve a murder or two in The
Galapagos Islands. Hopefully, the new novel will be published late this year or early in 2014. But first I have to publish "The Deadly Dog Show", hopefully some time in July.
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