Peru 2008-09 - The village of Chincha

cont.)

29 December 2008
It was about noon when the bus pulled in and stopped at the station. I looked around for mirrored faces in the crowd, people who looked like me, but to no avail. All I saw were Inca featured faces with tanned bronze skin, straight black hair, and puffy ears. This town, Chincha, is supposes to have the largest Afro population in Peru. I’m told this town is known for turning out athletic prowess citizens (which I think leans toward a sports stereotype). Chincha is the town that produces the soulful Peruvian music we hear in the US, with the beats, rhythms, and sounds of Africa, but is stamped “Made in Peru”. I have seen a video with black people dancing traditional African style, but listening to the lyrics, you will hear Spanish.

The taxi driver tied the two suitcases full of give-away clothes to the top of his little four seat sedan at which five of us, plus the driver, managed to squeeze into. We drove another 20 minutes out of the town before we came upon a few houses on the side of the road. Apparently, this was to be our destination. There was a crowd of people to greet us, but I saw only one black man, one black woman, and one black girl. Curious about our location, I asked my compañeras, “Are we in Chincha?” I was told yes. Well something was wrong. I think we were expecting more black faces, but all we saw were Inca features and most were children. Somehow, somewhere the communication wires got crossed with our host and her contact. I had planned to sit and visit with African descendants from Chincha, not Inca descendants from Chincha. I want to speak with them about their lives and racial experiences while living in Peru. I want to photograph them and have documented visual proof of their existence.

My lack of Spanish speaking skills made me the receiver of delayed information. When something was communicated, Maria had to interpret it and then put her two cents in before translating the point of the conversation to me. She sometimes had trouble understanding the Peruvians because of the speed and difference in some words. Spanish dialect and vocabulary appears to be different in each country, and Peru was no exception.

After figuring out that there was a mis-communication between host and contact, we did not want to turn and leave, “Hi and Bye.” That would be cold. So we stayed for a while and managed to entertain the children and gift them with soda and fruit bread. Although it was simple, this was a Christmas treat from the North Americans visiting their village.

It was hot in the van and the opened windows provided little relief as we drove down a dusty road. We left the children seemingly pleased with our visit and gifts. They appeared to be very appreciative showing smiles, giving hugs, and handshakes of gratitude.

A few minutes later, the van pulled in front of a Ranch style concrete structure with a canopied spacious open air area. There were some card tables and chairs occupied by a few gathered men who were sipping drinks. As we got out of the van, a short smiling robust black woman wiping her hands on her white apron approached us. I looked up and saw her likeness on an advertisement poster hanging on a post. She is Mamaiñe, the owner of this roadside establishment.

When I handed the t-shirt to Mamaiñe, her eyes lit up and a huge grin covered her face. She knew the person on the shirt. It is the popular worldwide iconic image of Hope - US President elected Barack Obama (now the official president). Grinning, she said some things in Spanish and gave me a big hug. Maria did not have to translate Mamaiñe’s words. I could feel her joy and appreciation.

After meeting a few more people, as if on cue, a young man started drumming a box shaped instrument and two young women started dancing. The sounds were loud, rhythmatic and transforming. Transfixed by the beat from the box and watching the dancers really confirmed for me that Chincha retained its Africaness. The desceased elders are smiling.

When they finished, I applauded each dancer with an Obama t-shirt. I gave t-shirts to a few more elders as they arrived at Mamaiñe’s, but handed the children Obama buttons. The t-shirts were x-large in size, way too large for the children, but would be useful to the adults in promoting Obama's message of Hope. The children could wear the buttons proudly.

I showed Mamaiñe and her friend Rolando my book, Africans Within the Americas, and through Maria explained why I was in Peru and wanted to meet them. Rolando commented how I was blessed to have traveled and met all these people documented in my book. I agreed with him. I know I was blessed and felt blessed again to have met the people from Chincha. We stayed at Mamaiñe’s about 30 minutes. I posed with them for a group photo and then we were off.