Cosecha de Papas in Remiapata

On Saturday morning, at 4 a.m. I met Celia´s (my host mom) brothers and sisters; Luz, Carlos, Irma, and Armando at the southern microbus terminal in Ayacucho. We were headed for the chakra or countryside also known as Remiapata. Celia and Paco were unable to travel with us because, well now we know, Isabel was going to make her triumphant appearance (birth) Saturday night. The road to Remiapata, which is south of Ayacucho, is a combination of paved, dirt, and rock roads. Many of these roads, especially the one directly in Remiapata, have been slightly washed out becasue of the rainy season, and never repaired. So for two and half hours we rode all crammed into a microbus to Remiapata. We traveled through some places I have been before; Condorcocha and Huarapite, and then approximately 2 Km beyond Huarapite is a little grove of trees overlooking a valley, and that is Remiapata. We got out of the bus and unloaded an unsightly amount of bags in front of the house, and then we waited. Mama Milchora peaked out and waved. It was sort of like the signal invite ¨Yes, welcome.¨ All around our feet pranced the dogs Paca, Pica Flor, and Wendy first barking like ¨Hey who are you? and then prancing with delight like ¨Welcome to our house!¨ ¨

I didn´t know this at first, but all the bags were a sort of ¨campo exchange¨ kind of like bartering. Mama Milchora, Celia´s mom, does not sell any of her potatoes, meat, or cheese. When the kids come from the city they bring things like pasta, sugar, rice, and fruit and they leave it with Mama Milchora in Remiapata. She in turn fills their bags to return to Ayacucho with potaotes, homemade Andean cheese, fresh milk, herbs, and meat of a cow or sheep. This is how the campo works. The honest trading to get what you do not have or need. It really sort of helps illustrate a form of partnership too; what can we do better together, than apart.

So when we arrived there were these fabulous smells coming from the rustic little kitchen house. I (of all things short) had to crouch down to get in the door. It is customary in the campo to have a hearty breakfast before going out to the chakra to harvest potatoes. Mama Milchora had prepared a breakfast of boiled fava beans and corn, hard boiled eggs, potatoes and fresh Andean cheese. Be sure not to fill up on all that, because those were breakfast appetizers. Next, was the hearty occa (like a cross between an apple and potato) soup and camomille tea made from the real flowers picked out back. I am not so sure how one is supposed to work after eating all that. I was tired and weighed down, the rest were raring to go. They kept saying ¨Eat up, Lisa.¨ Armando and Carlos headed out to the Chakra early, Irma and Luz headed to where the sheep were. Mama Milchora and I stayed at the house to milk cows and have her teach me how to make fresh Andean cheese (a.k.a fresh but unpasturized). Milchora had Sally and Brunsa the cows milked in no time flat, and brought the milk to the kitchen where she dumped in a little smidgen of her ¨cultures¨from a plastic pitcher hanging on the wall. She put the top back on the milk bucket and we waited. Milchora makes a molded cheese using woven straw straps and a bowl for the mold, as well as hand hewn patties of cheese. I ate more than my share of this cheese this weekend. It is fresh, salty-after its bath, and cold even though never refrigerated (Huh!?).

When Milchora and I had gathered some rations for lunch (i.e. the rest of the breakfast appetizers (favas, potatoes, and cheese) as well as some fruit and a liter of lemon lime soda we headed across the valley to the chakra or land where she cultivated potatoes. We were lead by the dogs and the cattle (remember Sally and Brunsa - they gotta eat). The cattle hung out on the outskirts of the potato field munching while we (the 6 of us) harvested the rest of the potatoes and occa that were still in the ground below the already harvested fava plants. The sun was horid and beat down all day. It was quite warm. That was just an inkling of the temps that were coming as the sun went down. We took a mid day break for a snack of favas, cheese, sprite, and potatoes. I sort of wanted to wash my hands, and while looking at them, Mama Milchora said ¨We do not wash our hands out here, we all came from the dust and that is how we will return!¨ How biblical. I was only slightly enthused, but hungry so I ate. When we had finished collecting all the potatoes and occa, we had to get the bags back across the valley without tractor or truck. I was hoping the cattle would help, but they were not interested. So 100 lb sacks were loaded on backs and away we went.

I went back to the house and Luz and Milchora set to work making a hearty soup of veggies and milk. NICE. It had already started to cool off, but that was only the begining. It gets frigid this time of year in the Andes, when the sun goes down. After supper we all sat around talking while seated on the log bench in the kitchen and realized it was time to get some sleep. Beds or Andean sleeping bags in Remiapata are sheep skins on the floor with multiple blankets on top, plus many layers of clothing. I was snug as a bug in a rug! It was soooo cold outside of my little sheep skin cacoon I had built. We all slept in one room, like a big Andean slumber party. Sheep skin rugs everywhere, and no bathroom...only nature.

Sunday morning I awoke to Armando, Luz, and Irma slaughtering a sheep the girls had brought back. EVERY part of that sheep would be put to use this day in Remiapata. Lunch/Brunch was going to be more potatoes but also caldo de cordero or sheep meat soup, sangracita(potatoes and blood and something else mixed and boiled), and chicharrone de tripe or fried sheep intestine. Not bad. Very conventional in the Andes. The skin and the legs of lamb were laid out in the sun. The legs would later find their way into each of our bags to take home. After the slaughter Armando poked his head in the kitchen and said¨Did you hear? Celia gave birth last night. It is a girl.¨ So we all passed the cell phone around the yard. I wasn´t in Ayacucho for Izzy´s arrival, but I was in the next place cooler...Remiapata.

So that is Remiapata. I know there is much more to this colorful landscape, but this is only my first trip. There are about 12 families that live there. There is a cemetery which is where Celia´s father is buried. He was one of the ¨disappeared¨from the internal conflict or violence of the 80s and 90s. He disappeared about 26years ago. His remains were found in communal grave two years ago. Luz, the youngest child at 27, told me that she was only one when he disappeared or was kidnapped. She never knew him or never had the chance to know him.

It was time for lunch, but it was also time to go. Armando had secured a ride for atleast two of us in a truck, the rest would end up waiting a few hours. So Mama Milchora put a lump of sheep meat from the soup in my hand and said ¨You gotta eat!¨So walking up the driveway I was gnawing on a sheep shank. We got to the truck and whatta you know? The driver was Wilber. I know Wilber, and he recognized me, from Paz y Esperanza. Wilber is the President of the Victims Association in Huarapite, whom we worked closely with to support them in the Sepillio Digno back in April. The truck was loaded with potaotes headed for Ayacucho, but there was room for two more and our stuff. So away we went. It only took us an hour and half to get home to Ayacucho. It took two and half to get to Remiapata. No comment.