In July 2015, my spouce and I had been crammed into a stuffy minivan with 12 other people, climbing away from Lima’s seaside mist to the sun-filled hills huge number of foot above. After hours of dirt clouds and dizzying hairpin turns, our location showed up below—the remote Andean town of San Juan de Collata, Peru. It absolutely was a scattering of adobe houses without any water that is running no sewage, and electricity just for a few domiciles. The number of hundred inhabitants of the community talk a type of Spanish greatly impacted by their ancestors’ Quechua. Coming to the town felt like stepping into another world.
We invested our very first few hours in Collata making formal presentations to your town officers, asking for authorization to review two unusual and valuable things that the city has guarded for centuries—bunches of twisted and colored cords called khipus. A middle-aged herder named Huber Braсes Mateo, brought over a colonial chest containing the khipus, along with goat-hide packets of 17th- and 18th-century manuscripts—the secret patrimony of the village after dinner, the man in charge of the community treasures. We’d the tremendous honor to be the very first outsiders ever permitted to see them.
Each of which is just over 2 feet long, were narrative epistles created by local chiefs during a time of war in the 18th century over the next couple days, we would learn that these multicolored khipus. Lees meer