MATERIAL OBJECTS - NATURAL PLACES - PDF

S. Kosiba 1 The Things That Sustain the World: Indigenous Andean Cultural Perspectives on Material Objects and Natural Places Steve Kosiba In the anci...

S. Kosiba 1 The Things That Sustain the World: Indigenous Andean Cultural Perspectives on Material Objects and Natural Places Steve Kosiba In the ancient Andes, material things and natural places often played key social roles in human communities. To understand the meaning and function of these things and places, and to appreciate the objects assembled in this exhibit, is to inquire into the cultural perspectives that defined them, before and during the reign of the Inka Empire. This essay provides a general introduction to indigenous Andean concepts that were and still are important to the production of material culture. The essential point of the essay is that objects from the ancient Andes cannot be reduced to modern categories such as “wealth” and “art.” Many of these objects were made to be essential constituents in practices by which people placated and gave offerings to the powerful forces that they recognized within their world, whether mountains, rivers, celestial beings, ancestors, or living humans. Many of these objects were made and circulated in an effort to create, maintain, and influence social relationships between people and the nonhuman beings of their immediate environment. Some of these objects and their meanings changed as the Inka Empire exerted its power and sought to impose its own vision of world order. Despite the dramatic events of Inka conquest and Spanish invasion, indigenous people of the Andes continued to see their landscape and its workings in a specifically Andean way: as a broader community of living beings, only some of whom were human. Sources of knowledge on Ancient Andean Cultural Perspectives S. Kosiba 2 Our knowledge of ancient Andean cultural perspectives and terms is largely derived from modern ethnohistory and ethnography (see introductory essay by I. Shimada). Neither Inkas nor their predecessors kept written records. Ethnohistorical research therefore seeks to shed light on Andean cultural perspectives interpreting of accounts that were penned about the Inkas and their neighbors as the empire waned and crumbled due to Spanish colonization. Scholars most often rely on writings of Spaniards and indigenous Andean people living during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries who reported and reflected on the Inka Empire and the Andes more generally. These are diverse accounts. Some are diaries, others tabulate information from interviews, and others describe the history of the Inka Empire in European terms. Though these are not literal histories and they contain many biases, many of them contain insights into cultural traditions of the ancient Andes. Anthropological studies reinterpreted these colonial texts, noting both change and continuity in Andean cultural practices and values over time. These anthropological studies are careful to point out that indigenous Andean people in the present-day tend to act and think in ways that are similar, but not identical, to their forbears. Instead, these studies seek to understand the use and meaning of indigenous Andean concepts derived from common languages (Aymara and Quechua) in contemporary contexts. They aim to improve understanding of similar concepts that were important to the ancient Inkas and their neighbors and enemies, whether the Chanca, the Chincha, or the Qolla (pronounced as Koya). Anthropological studies are particularly concerned with uncovering the practices by which modern Aymara and Quechua-speakers, many of whom live in the same environmental settings and cultural landscapes as ancient societies, have developed cultural traditions and practices by which they root their identities and their social lives in the landscape, its features, and its ruins. Many of S. Kosiba 3 these people live in communities that explicitly include both humans and nonhumans, such as mountains, rivers, and ancient sites. Taking an approach that is framed by indigenous Andean concepts, modern anthropologists craft histories that go beyond the tales of emperors and their ideologies to understand Andean people in terms of the cultural values and traditions that mattered most to them. This essay centers on terms derived from the Quechua language. The Inkas knew multiple languages, but Quechua was widely spoken by their nobles and administrators, and its influence only increased after the Spanish invasion. Aymara is the other major indigenous language of the Andes. Many of the Quechua concepts discussed below have equivalents or parallels in that language, but they have been omitted from this discussion because of limited space. For a well-crafted ethnographic text on Aymara cultural perspectives, please see the book by Thomas Abercrombie that is listed in the recommended readings section below. Andean cultural perspectives and concepts An understanding of ancient Andean material culture in indigenous Andean terms requires a close examination how people of this region made and used their objects. Essential to this examination is a discussion of “animism,” a term that generally describes the practices by which people in past and present contexts view and treat nonhuman entities as living beings (see introductory essay by I. Shimada) (Figure 1). In many Andean cultural perspectives, there is little distinction between categories such as “nature” and “culture,” “nonhuman” and “human.” Natural places and sites, such as water springs and mountain peaks, had names and personalities. These places were fed with offerings. If such offerings were not given, it was thought, the water springs could decide to go dry. S. Kosiba 4 Likewise, if not propitiated, mountain peaks may let hail descend on vulnerable agricultural fields. These perceptions may sound fantastical to people of the modern world, but they were widespread and environmentally sustainable values that shaped people’s lives and guided their social responsibilities throughout much of the ancient Andes (see chapter by F. Acuto). In giving offerings to mountains and springs, and seeing these entities as living members of human communities, Andean people acknowledged that their lives were intimately bound up with the natural world. These cultural perceptions, in many cases, helped ancient Andean people to sustain — to neither over-exploit nor greatly degrade — environmental resources for centuries. In a similar vein, many people indigenous to the Andes have long held that human-made things, such as stone buildings and clay pots, can be animate things with voices, personalities, and powerful abilities (Figure 2). Given this predisposition toward material things, some objects had to be made from specific materials, the sources of which were fed with offerings in an effort to energize or nourish the thing that was produced. Otherwise, the stones in the building walls may not hold, or the clays that had been used to form a pot may explode during the process of firing. A recent archaeological study by Dennis Ogburn, in fact, reveals that the Inkas expended a great amount of effort to use particular kinds of stone in their most valued buildings. They transported andesite stones over thousands of kilometers of rugged mountain terrain, from a quarry in Cusco to a construction site in Ecuador, most likely because they recognized that this particular andesite source had special properties and perhaps powers. They derived stone from the same quarry to build their capital city in Cusco. In short, this Andean cultural perspective that is often called animism” recognizes that myriad entities — clay, stone, water, people — participate in acts of creation, and therefore all of them needed to be fed, nourished, and recognized. S. Kosiba 5 The Quechua term camay describes an act of creation and is therefore essential to understanding this cultural perspective. More precisely, as the anthropologists Catherine Allen and Frank Salomon point out, camay is a verb that can be translated as the action that creates an entity or that charges an existing entity with an animating force. In other words, Quechua speakers hold that all material things and bodies, living or not, have an inherent function and purpose. Camay is the action by which these functions and purposes are realized. An early Quechua dictionary, compiled by the Spaniard Domingo de Santo Tomas in 1560, makes plain that this verb also distinguishes whether an entity is the subject or object of a creative action, and therefore whether its purpose is to give or receive an animating force. Both can be true. For instance, as the anthropologist Gerald Taylor makes plain in his study of camay, an agricultural field creates crops — it is therefore engaged in the action of creation (camay) and therefore in Quechua it is called chacara camac. In this phrase, chacara denotes field, while camac indicates the activated potential to create crops, marking the field as the initiator of the action of creation. But camay can also refer to actions that realize the potential of a person or entity. For example, some lands must be fertilized, for example, with llama dung, if they are to produce. Their potential as an agricultural field has not yet been realized. A fertilized field would be called chacara camasca, which signifies that it (chacara) has been prepared and made fertile (camasca). Camasca indicates that the field has been the object of the creative action of camay. It became a field because people added nutrients and other materials to its soils. This discussion has great implications for understanding ancient Andean material culture displayed in this exhibit. Of course, any farmer would recognize that soils often need fertilization if they are to produce. But decades of anthropological studies in the Andes demonstrate that many indigenous people see their entire social existence in terms of these S. Kosiba 6 reciprocal exchanges of animating forces, between people, material things, and environmental features. With this realization, it becomes clear that many Inka objects were created as gifts and offerings that were meant to charge, energize, and realize the potential of other entities. For instance, a stone hammer such as the one in from Machu Picchu in this exhibit, can engage in camay. Ancient masons used hard rocks such as basalt to quarry and shape the stones that characterize many Andean archaeological sites. The author of this chapter is currently excavating at an Inka quarry used to build the monumental palaces of Cusco. The excavations reveal that everyday stone tools were often the objects of ritual practices of feeding. Food offerings were found next to places where stone tools were kept. In this example, the stone hammers were likely given energy so that they could properly fulfill their purpose. In Cusco today, modern quarrymen repeat this tradition, rubbing coca on their metal hammers prior to working larger stones. To list another example, indigenous Andean people have long given seashells from the Pacific Ocean to water springs. There is a cultural logic to this action. The ocean is perceived as the source of all water. By offering the seashell, people infuse the spring with the power of the ocean and ensure that the spring will continue to produce water (Figure 3). The term camay calls attention to the indigenous Andean view that both humans and nonhumans, living things and material things all participate in the ongoing creation and the maintenance of the world (Figure 4). The world, in this sense, has a specific meaning. Before and after the rise of the Inka Empire, Andean people most often labored to sustain their own distinct worlds, meaning the natural places and features that constituted their immediate surroundings. The Quechua term pacha captures this sense of attachment to an environment. The word can be translated in abstract terms such as “earth” and “time,” but it also bears the more concrete connotations of “here and the now.” Taking both meanings together, pacha S. Kosiba 7 denotes the physical ground that makes possible people’s actions, whether at the local scale of one’s homeland or the global scale of the Andes. The concept pacha is closely linked to a Quechua perspective on a community and its social landscape, called llacta (see chapter by F. Astete). The term llacta envelops the broader assemblage of persons within an environment, including humans of different families (ayllu) and their ancestors, but also the plants, animals, mountains, and waters with whom those humans live. Each llacta is therefore like its own world. For instance, the Checa and Concha people who are described in an early colonial document often called the “Huarochirí Manuscript” (see reference below) state that an immense glaciated mountain named Pariacaca, which neighbored their lands, was the ancestral member of their community, their llacta. Because of this, these people have been called “the children of Pariacaca.” Similarly, the Inkas treated the peak of Huanacauri, a mountain that towers over their capital city of Cusco, in a comparable manner. A stone from Huanacauri was brought to the plaza of Cusco for major ceremonies, so the mountain could participate in the festivities. Many people of the highland Andes see non-human entities as central members of their llacta, most commonly recognizing mummified human bodies, springs, caves, and specific animals such as llamas as members of their community. People who are not from a particular llacta might appreciate the power or beauty of these different material things, but they do not always see them as members of their own communities. The concept of llacta is therefore an idea of community that is grounded in a landscape. Llacta is closely related to the Quechua word ayllu, which connotes a family or kin group. Most Quechua speakers employ the term ayllu whether they are referring to their close family with whom they might share a household or whether they are emphasizing their extended family of near and distant relatives. Ayllu refers to both of these scales of kinship. Thus, there may be S. Kosiba 8 multiple ayllus (kinship groups) in a single llacta (community and landscape). Likewise, an ayllu might have members who live in distant locations. Census documents from the early colonial period in southern Peru demonstrate that members of a single ayllu settled in multiple different environments, from the mountainous highland to the lowland rainforest. These kin remained in contact, extending their family across geographic space and ecological settings so that all of their relatives could share and benefit from the products of these distinct areas (for example, by exchanging coca leaves from the lowlands for dried potatoes from the uplands; [see introductory essay by I. Shimada]). There are two primary factors that determine whether someone is a member of an ayllu. First, a person must recognize that they are the progeny of the same ancestor as other members of the ayllu. “Ancestry” in this Quechua sense is not traceable through genealogy or lineage. Likewise, this means that “kinship” is not reducible to blood or genetic ties. Rather, people recognize that they and others may share common ancestors who were not human persons. Indeed, Quechua-speakers in the past and present state that they are the offspring of a nonhuman entity such as a geological prominence, a lake, or cave. Essential to ayllu membership is that one recognizes and reveres the same ancestral entity or person as other members of the ayllu. Second, to be a member of an ayllu, one must share in the labor that is crucial for the perpetuation of the collective. People of the same ayllu work together to plant and harvest fields, to dig and clean irrigation canals, and to build and maintain houses and their adjacent animal corrals. Even the young and the elderly pitch in, often by preparing food and drink for the laborers. This collective labor also includes ritual activities. Everyone in the kinship group must propitiate and venerate the huacas and the apus of the ayllu, and all ayllu members must play a part in annual ceremonies. Because personhood is rooted in ayllu S. Kosiba 9 membership, participation in these collective labor activities is essential to one’s identity and sense of well-being. Clearly, ancient Andean people inhabited animate worlds in which they recognized many different kinds of living beings. But some of these beings were more important and more potent than others. The more important beings were often those who could be said to engage in the process of camay, or creation, more than others. These were beings such as the sun, the mountains, and major rivers. In addition to these powerful forces, indigenous Andean people also acknowledged that particular material things, including the most common stone or plant, could exert power and affect their lives. This is not to say that these beings were “sacred” — a word derived from ancient Greece — and others were not. Ancient Andean people did not recognize such a distinction. Their view of the world and the cosmos starkly contrasts that of western Europe and Eurasia, whose religions and ideologies often insist on a distinction between “mundane” things (inert, passive, seen in terms of functional capacities) and “sacred” entities (authoritative, active, seen in terms of symbolic and emotional powers). For a European Christian, for example, a corn cob is nothing more than the remains of a meal. For many indigenous Andean people, a corn cob can be an entity that can sustain an entire corn crop — in this case, it would be called mamasara, a thing responsible for the harvest (Figure 5). In the ancient Andes, all entities no matter how small or common had the potential to affect social life. It was important to recognize the things that had such potential, and treat them accordingly. Even though there is no equivalent to the concept “sacred” in Quechua, there are terms that distinguish powerful entities that often engage in acts of creation. The Quechua concept “huaca” refers to nonhuman material things and places that have the potential to act, speak, and affect other beings (Figure 6). Huacas could be stones, water springs, caves, buildings, or S. Kosiba 10 artifacts. They were defined by their material forms, and were often remarkable or different than other materials of the same type in terms of their shape, size, position, or perceived history (see chapter by T. Cummins). For example, a massive sandstone formation in the shape of a human body could be a huaca; a water spring that bubbles and gurgles could be a huaca; and an egg contains two yolks could be a huaca. These were not spirits that could be detached from a physical substance. Nor were they delegates of a higher god, as with the Christian cult of the saints. The material of which the huaca was composed was crucial to its essence, its power, and its social personhood. Both Inkas and Spaniards, therefore, found that it was difficult to destroy a huaca. any material fragment from the material thing could manifest the being in another place, and people would begin giving offerings and speaking to the fragment (Figure 7). The historian Marco Curatola Petrocchi argues that huacas held in common the power to speak. They received offerings as a way to incite and enter into communication with human beings (Figure 8). A colonial document, originally compiled by the Spanish official Polo de Ondegardo the 1550s but published by the Jesuit priest Bernabé Cobo in 1653, lists all of the huacas near the Inka capital of Cusco and provides some insights into the practices by which people prompted these beings to speak and act. The list makes clear that huacas had distinct powers and histories, and were given different offerings. Some received gold and silver objects in exchange for their ability to prevent earthquakes. Others were fed sacrifices of llamas and alpacas in order to guarantee the health of the Inkas and their city. Andean communities recognized that huacas existed alongside other powerful nonhuman entities, such as natural authorities (apu). Every Andean community recognized apus, a Quechua term that describes authorities, human and nonhuman. Today most indigenous Andean people use the term apu to refer to mountains, but in early colonial writings the label describes S. Kosiba 11 people, mountains, animals, and rivers. In other words, apu was a title. An Inka or another ruler was called apu; a huaca could be an apu; the sun itself was recognized as an apu. Historical sources clarify that a variety of beings could be apus. Places such as the stone of Apu Yurak Rumi or Apu Wanakawri, both of which were revered stones near Cusco, were huacas recognized as the highest lords. In both cases, these stones not only received payment in food offerings and sacrifices, but also claimed dominion over particular lands and the labor necessary to care for them. In addition, the title was conferred on select animals—such as the snake (apu amaro) whom the people of the eastern slopes of the Andes were said to have adored because they had no other huacas; or the vibrantly colored and spotted Chuiquichinchay (a jaguar or Panthera onca, called “otorongo” in Quechua), who was said to be chief of the wild jungle cats. Finally, environmental features were known and revered as apu. The Apurimac River, which flows from the southern edge of Cusco to the Pacific Ocean, bears its name because it is a lord (apu) who speaks (rimac). These authorities received regular gifts and sacrifices. In return, they protected an Andean community. In the Huarochirí Manuscript, for example, the Checa narrator of the document claimed that the invading Inkas recognized the power of Apu Pariacaca and therefore chose to peacefully forge an alliance with his community. Another class of animate being that populated the Inka world consisted of the desiccated or embalmed corpses of past leaders (Figure 9). The bodies of select leaders were prepared, dried, and then wrapped in textiles. In this form—known as mallki—they continued to participate in social affairs. The slopes and ridges around many pre-Inka and Inka villages contained stone mausolea, many of which housed one of these living, ancestral corpses. The eyes of the mallki would peer out of the open doorway of its chamber, watching over the fields and the people who worked them. Dried and baked by the sun, the dead were always thirsty, and like S. Kosiba 12 the other beings of the Andean world, they were regularly fed and feted with copious amounts of food and drink in an attempt to satisfy them. Not all humans become mallki upon death. Some people appear to have been chosen because they held an authoritative position during their lives. Stories recorded in the early colonial era also suggest that some other people became mallki through the action of sacrifice, which realized their potential to speak to mountains and people alike. Modern Andean people still recognize mallki, and say that they guard a community’s houses and fields. This review makes plain that many of the ancient Andean items visible in this exhibit were in fact gifts that were intended to placate or influence these nonhuman entities. But there is also another class of ancient objects that were specifically manufactured in order to draw social boundaries between Andean communities. On one hand, people implicitly identified with materials from their home environment. The foods, the pottery, and the houses that they produced reflect the materials from their homelands and also the practices by which people from their community learned to shape their landscape. For example, people of indigenous Andean communities have long enjoyed a kind of beer, aqha in Quechua, that can be made from fermented grains, grasses, or fruits. Some of them make aqha from maize, commonly known as chicha. Others use quinoa. Still others favor berries from the molle tree (Schinus molle). These different ingredients and flavors distinguished different communities, both in the past and the present. On the other hand, many ancient Andean people marked their differences from one another in much more explicit ways, most commonly through the clothing and the headgear that they wore. For instance, the “four-cornered” hat that is included in this exhibit would have immediately identified someone in the past as a person from the central sierra, perhaps the Ayacucho heartland of the Wari state. Spanish historical sources make plain that distinctions S. Kosiba 13 between “us and them” were of essential to daily life. Objects played social roles in distinguishing people from one another, especially during festivals when different people gathered together to dance and feast. These social differences between families and communities structured much of the ancient Andean world. Though there is much cultural variation throughout the Andes, most anthropologists and linguists recognize that the indigenous languages of the region rest on the idea that all things in the world have an opposite. The opposition between things is not antagonistic, as in European Christian ideas of universal forces of “good” and “evil.” Rather, it is complementary. The Quechua concept of yanantin denotes this idea of complementary dualism, much like the Chinese concept of yin and yang (阴阳). It refers to the harmonizing forces that make up any environment, community, or living being. Anthropologists often refer to a nuclear human family as a root metaphor for yanantin. This is because at its base a family consists of a man (qhari) and woman (huarmi), each of whom must play a distinct role and fulfill a separate purpose that is only possible because of the actions of their partner. As another example, an agricultural field is in a complementary relationship with an animal pasture. The field needs fertilizer and this comes from the llama dung. Likewise, the animals at times need fodder, and this can come from the field. The duality of yanantin relates to another Quechua concept, tinkuy. This Quechua verb refers to the action of convergence, often emphasizing the dialectic by which the union of two forces or elements can create a different or a new state of affairs. The junction of two rivers can be said to be an example of tinkuy because their convergence produces something altogether new, such as mixed alluvial sediments rich with nutrients that can aid in farming. Likewise, the cross-beams of a house roof exemplify the action of tinkuy because they are otherwise two S. Kosiba 14 wooden poles that, unless assembled together in this manner, cannot support a roof. In this sense, the verb tinkuy shares some similarities with the concept of camay, which calls attention to how things can help other things to realize their function. Many archaeologists see these principles of complementarity and convergence in the artand architecture of the ancient Andes. They have long suggested that the “stirrup-spouted” vessels of the Chavín and the Moche, of which there are many examples in this exhibit, portray complementary dualism. Or they call attention to how Inka pottery from Cusco emphasizes stark black and white or red and white motifs (Figure 10). This principle of complementarity seems to have inflected many ritual practices in the past. Indeed, Inka offerings to mountains and other huacas often included one gold figurine of a human boy and one silver figurine of a human girl. Beyond these symbolic examples, dual complementarity is perhaps most visible in the spatial organization of ancient Andean communities and landscapes. In comparing highland villages and cities, archaeologists find a common pattern in which social space is divided into sectors (hanan upper and hurin lower; see chapter by Mar et al.), and then further partitioned by radial lines that emanate from a central place toward mountain peaks at the horizon. These settlement plans evince a division between upper and lower sectors, as well as a spatial distinction between a center and a margin. By organizing a settlement in this way, Andean people distinguished kin groups (ayllus), and their responsibilities to care for fields, water canals, and huacas. This form of spatial organization was of paramount importance to the Inkas, who developed an empire based on ideas of social hierarchy and distinction, which held that they and their kin alone were central to the governance of the Andean world. Andean cultural perspectives and concepts under the Inka Empire S. Kosiba 15 From 1350 CE onward, the Inkas assembled a massive empire throughout the Andes. Their central ideological claim was similar to that of many other globalizing empires. The Inkas claimed that they were fit to rule because they were naturally superior to all other people (see chapter by F. Acuto). The Inkas can perhaps best be described as groups of people from Cusco who belonged to discrete royal houses with blood ties to specific lineages of chiefs and emperors. They boasted that they were divinities who were the offspring of the sun itself. Therefore, no outsider could become an Inka. The Quechua word capac is essential to understanding this rather grandiose Inka claim. The term refers to a person of the highest status. It goes beyond the meaning of apu (authority) to signify someone whose authority could not be challenged. An early Spanish writer named Juan Diez de Betanzos provides an exceptional insight into the meaning of this term. Diez de Betanzos had special access to Inka ideas about status in large part because he learned Quechua and married into one of the Inka royal families. He writes that capac could be translated as king, but then he continues by stating that it means much more than this title. He was likely referring to the Inka emperor’s unique responsibility: as the Inkas themselves saw it, he alone was responsible for sustaining and creating order within the world. The Inka emperor was thus equivalent in status to the most powerful apus of the andes, such as Pariacaca or the sun. Given this imperial ideology, many Inka tales of their empire begin with a conflict that arises because a local leader claims capac status. The Inka and his armies show up and ask the upstart leader to negate the claim or to suffer the consequences. These tales often end with fire and bloodshed, and with the Inka claiming victory over his foe. Though the details of these stories are likely more imperial hubris than historical reality, they help us to understand that, as far as the Inkas were concerned, they were the only humans who could claim the title of capac. S. Kosiba 16 To support this rigid idea of social hierarchy, the Inkas commissioned the manufacture of objects that clearly distinguished them from other people. The Spanish term orejon exemplifies this Inka obsession. Spaniards called the Inkas “orejones,” which means “big ears.” The moniker referred to the ornate earspools of gold and silver that the Inkas wore. Earspools were also worn by authorities who preceded the Inka, such as the Moche or the Sipan. But during the Inka reign, few other Andean people could wear large earspools that matched those of the Inka. Most local leaders only wore crude ear adornments of stone and wood, such as the examples from Chachapoyas that are featured in this exhibit (Figure 11). At the height of Inka rule, the earspools were just one example of how the Inkas dressed to proclaim their high social position. Also, the Inka emperor wore a vibrant red wool tassel (mascaypacha) on his forehead to signify his unique role and leader of the world. Young boys from Cusco took on the regalia of nobles during an initiation rite, during which their ears were pierced and they received colorful tunics, slings, and bronze axes. In addition: shell trumpets announced the presence of an Inka; resplendent litters carried them from place to place; and special carved seats (tiyana in Quechua) made them the focal points of public discourse. The Inkas also demanded that their subjects wear clothing that identified their ethnicity and place of origin. Indeed, the early Spanish writer Pedro Cieza de León provides a detailed list of the insignia—such as headgear, hairstyles, and sandals—that differentiated ethnic communities in major festivals in Cusco (Figure 12). Many indigenous Andean people would have seen these signs of Inka authority in a manner that accorded with the widespread animistic predispositions and cultural perspectives of the area. In fact, at the height of Inka rule, particular material things stood in for Inka lords. These objects were treated as if they were the lords themselves. For instance, the Korikancha, the house of the sun in Cusco, contained a gold statue of a boy. The statue was said to be the sun S. Kosiba 17 itself. It had a cavity in its midsection into which a remnant of each Inka ruler’s heart was placed. The statue embodied the Inka claim that their rulers were of the same level — indeed, the same substance — as the sun. The Quechua term ranti explains the material relationship that made up this statue. The term means that one thing can be a substitute for another, especially when they share some intrinsic property and origin or an especially close relationship. This is one reason why indigenous Andean people tend to give seashells as offerings to water springs: the shell and the spring share a substance; to give the shell to the spring is to give water to it. A more common example comes from Andean ethnography. Catherine Allen (reference below) emphasizes that, if you were sharing a meal with Quechua-speaker in the Andes, but your loved one was not present, then you would be instructed to eat for them. Your stomach would be their stomach. In reconsidering the statue in the Korikancha, we can appreciate that the gold from which it was made was considered to be the same substance of the sun. The statue was the sun for all intents and purposes. Moreover, by putting the emperors’ hearts into the statue, the Inkas extended the metaphor, making it so their ancestors’ bodies were inseparable from the substance of the sun. Much like the statue that stood in for the sun, each Inka emperor had a substitute, an object that he would call his brother (guaoque). This object differed for each emperor. Most of these objects were destroyed during the Spanish invasion, but we know from several accounts that the guaoque were materials shaped into the forms of birds, serpents, fish, and people. These things could stand in for the emperor in specific settings. Some Spaniards report seeing them carried on litters or placed on platforms. Other reports demonstrate a similar cultural practice of recognizing a substitute or a stand-in. Spaniards relate that a stone from the mountain S. Kosiba 18 Huanacauri would be treated as if it were a noble person and bathed with warm water in the middle of a plaza. Other people recognized the importance of these material substitutes. For instance, the Inkas told of how they finally defeated their foes the Chancas when they captured the stone pillar that embodied the Chanca ruler. Whether these narrated events actually occurred is not important. The point is that Andean people at the time held that these material things played social roles, and they went about their daily routines with this in mind. Consequently, Andean people who lived under the Inkas would expend energy and time to care for mummies, stones, and statues, because all of these were persons who held authoritative positions. It is clear that the Inkas commissioned the production of these things in order to propagate their rule over the Andes. Like other material objects of the Andes, these Inka things had to be activated and given life. During public ceremonies, Andean people would engage in acts that recognized the power of Inka materials and bodies, making a blowing or kissing sound (mochar in Quechua) to signal that they were transferring their energy to a royal object such as a tiyana or a noble personage such as an Inka mummy. This is an example of how the exchange of camay came to be expressed during Inka rule. The breath of the mochar may have symbolically represented the labor that subjects were required to give to the Inka Empire. All people who were subjects of the Inka were required to give some percentage of their labor power to the state. This was a form of governance and exploitation. Ideally, and in accordance with the logic of complementarity, the Inkas were required to return what the people had given, in particular by bringing them fine gifts and feasts. At times, Andean people such as the Mapuche in Chile or the Chachapoyas in the northeastern Peru resisted the Inka and chose to not exchange their livelihood and energy for the empire’s promises (see chapter by I. Schjellerup). Archaeologists are only beginning to recover the works and the histories of these people. A final point, S. Kosiba 19 however, is that many of the objects in this exhibit should be seen as Inka attempts to envelop other Andean people in their imperial project, using an Andean logic of complementarity to their own political ends. Large containers for serving aqha beer, for example, were political objects designed to embody and realize the Inka’s responsibility of giving back to the people. In studying the ancient Andes, our task is to see beyond the ideology of the empire, and uncover the contexts in which people recognized or rejected the authority of these Inka objects and the authority that they were said to manifest. Summary Indigenous Andean concepts are key to understanding ancient Andean material culture and art. Indeed, people of the modern world would likely misrecognize the meaning of these ancient Andean and Inka objects if they were to see them solely in terms of their social function (i.e. as badges of status); their religious symbolism (i.e. as materials seen as sacred and not mundane); their artistic value (i.e. as representations of human ideas of value and beauty). Instead, many of these objects were essential to the acts of creation (camay) that sustained Andean communities for centuries and then undergirded Inka claims to imperial authority. As such, these objects held value and expressed power because of the social relationships that they constituted. Material things were tightly bound to ideas of social order and community in the ancient Andes. In creating and circulating these things, Andean people sustained their world. In rejecting or breaking many of these things, Andean people endeavored to change it. S. Kosiba 20 Figure Captions Figure 1: An illustration in Martín de Murúa’s 1590 text (Historia general del Perú, origen y descendencia de los Incas, also called the Galvin Manuscript). The image shows an Inka wearing gold earspools and directing workers as they drag a "living" stone to a construction site. Figure 2: The mountain of and temple to Huanacauri (ruins standing atop the peak are visible in the foreground) was and still is an important place where people of Cusco, Peru (city in background) leave offerings and ask the mountain to protect them. Photo by S. Kosiba Figure 3: Spondylus crassisquama (mullu in Quechua) was a valued offering to the water springs of the ancient Andes. Photo by Izumi Shimada. Figure 4: This Inka object perfectly exemplifies the Quechua philosophy that different things participate in the action of creation. The object features three phases of the life cycle of maize, an important highland Andean food. It shows: the tool (chakitaqlla in Quechua) by which ground in prepared for maize; the cob that is harvested; and the ceramic jug (urpu in Quechua) that stores maize beer (aqha in Quechua). Photo by Yutaka Yoshii. Central Reserve Bank of Peru Collection, Lima. Figure 5: A mamasara was a special corn cob that was put aside and given offerings that would ultimately benefit the maize crop. This Inka object is a sara conopa, a miniature that likely would have been used in ritual practice to stand in for a mamasara and to ensure a good harvest. Inka Museum Collection, Cusco. Photo by Yutaka Yoshii. Figure 6: Many huacas of the highland Andes still receive offerings, such as “Ñawpa Iglesia,” an intricately-carved andesite stone that dates to the Inka period (ca. 1500 CE) near S. Kosiba 21 Pachar, Cusco, Peru. Note that the top of the stone was partially destroyed, perhaps during an act of “colonial iconoclasm” by which Spanish Christians sought to destroy the living force of the huaca. Photo: S. Kosiba Figure 7: Many huacas near Cusco received gold and silver as offerings. The figurine pictured here in situ was excavated by the author at the Inka temple for Huanacauri, next to a stone pillar (a huaca). The figurine is an elite whose ears have been prepared for earspools. Photo: S. Kosiba Figure 8: Huacas could speak to Inkas and vice versa. This illustration is from Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala’s (1610) manuscript. The author and artist illustrated the Inka ruler Thupa Inka chastising the huacas because one of them did not correctly perform their duties. Note that the Inka huaca Huanacauri sits above all others. Photo: Courtesy of Det Kongelige Bibliotek. http://www5.kb.dk/permalink/2006/poma/263/en/text/ Figure 9: The Inkas treated select mummified humans as if they were royal personages. This illustration is from Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala’s (1610) manuscript. The author and artist illustrated the month of November (aya marcay quilla in Quechua), when it was important to recognize the dead and carry them in litters. Photo: Courtesy of Det Kongelige Bibliotek. http://www5.kb.dk/permalink/2006/poma/258/en/text/ Figure 10: Many Inka imperial works of art appear to portray principles of complementary dualism in their design. This large ceramic vessel (urpu) is painted in a manner that partitions the body of the vessel into upper (hanan) and lower (hurin) fields, with a band of diamonds marking the center. Art historians emphasize that these patterns duplicate principles essential to Inka understandings of space and its ideal organization. Inka Museum Collection, Cusco. Photo by Yutaka Yoshii. S. Kosiba 22 Figure 11: Wooden earspools likely worn by a local leader from the northeastern Andes. Compare these with the gigantic gold earspools from the pre-Inka coastal civilization of Sican. Leymebamba Museum Collection, Chachapoya. Photo by Yutaka Yoshii. Figure 12: Textiles were valued objects that, during the height of Inka rule, plainly distinguished different people and their ranks. This male tunic shows the design and style typical of the Chakibamba region of the south highlands of Peru. National Archaeology, Anthropology, and History Museum Collection, Lima. Photo by Yutaka Yoshii. Suggested Reading: Abercrombie, Thomas A. 1998. Pathways of Memory and Power: Ethnography and History among an Andean People. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Allen, Catherine J. 1986. The Hold Life Has: Coca and Cultural Identity in an Andean Community. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. Cummins, Thomas B. F. 2002. Toasts with the Inca: Andean Abstraction and Colonial Images on Quero Vessels. Ann Arbor, MI: The University of Michigan Press. Diez de Betanzos, Juan. 1996. Narrative of the Incas. Austin: University of Texas Press. Ramírez, Susan E. 2005. To Feed and Be Fed: The Cosmological Bases of Authority and Identity in the Andes. Stanford: Stanford University Press. S. Kosiba 23 Salomon, Frank, and Jorge Urioste (with original manuscript by Francisco de Avila). 1991. The Huarochirí Manuscript: A Testament of Ancient and Colonial Andean Religion. 1st ed.. ed. Austin: University of Texas Press. Biography Steve Kosiba (Ph.D. University of Chicago, 2010) is an archaeologist and historical anthropologist whose research centers on the development and the downfall of the Inka state in their capital city of Cusco, Peru. His research seeks to understand cultural resilience in light of political oppression by examining changes and continuities in ancient Andean religious practices, from the times of Inka governance to the tragedy of the Spanish colonial effort. He is also engaged in cultural heritage work that seeks to develop museum media to represent Indigenous American stories of the Spanish, English, and United States invasions in Peru, Colombia, and Texas.