Chachapoyas
by Scott Kloos
The road down from Chachapoyas follows the Rio Utcubamba passing through human-carved, cliff face waves of stone, past candelabra cacti, and green valley hillsides cut through with seams of lime and sandstone rock. In other places large angular pieces jut up in shades of brown, pink, or gray. There are faces in the cliffs, and here they knew of them-knew how to recognize and honor the spirits of the place by building funerary temples and sarcophagi for mummies in these high up sacred place cliff faces that are no place to live but where priests resided in small, round houses. Here also lived the watchmen who gave notice of invasion or imparted other info using different colored smoke from fire burnt llama grease.
Among other things the Chachapoya worshiped the snake which just like the Kundalini in the east represented the energy that resides at the base of the spine and rises with proper ritual up and out through top of head to enlightenment. These people were in tune. They built their houses round so that energy would flow spirally so as not to get stuck in corners creating madness.
As we descend, the vegetation becomes more diverse. Many different-colored flowers appear. Bromeliads with red stalks cling to the cliffside. The valley flattens out. The river widens. Junipers live with papaya and banana trees. We are six in the car, me smashed against the passenger side door-mud splattered arm hanging out the window, my head ducked to avoid it banging against the door frame. We pass old, blankfaced men on storefront benches; kids with water balloons and sling shots seeking prey. Women walking to and fro transporting goods in large bags slung over their shoulders who at times stand to chat in front of houses while small children, chickens, pigs, and thin dogs circle about bursting with energy.
It is pouring down rain as we arrive in Pedro Ruiz, a middle of the road transit town. The requisite horde of vultures circles overhead. I slog through the mud to the bus station and buy a ticket for Yurimaguas, a 2-day trip to the end of the road. I look in the mirror. I have the crazy eyes. I'm going to the jungle.
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