The
Magnificent People – the Inca Empire
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The truth is that we all live
by leaving behind; no doubt we all profoundly know that we are immortal
and that sooner or later every man will do all things and know
everything.
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Jorge Luis
Borges
|
to
Dawn
I was about
fourteen when I read The Forest Ship, a Book of the Amazon
by Richard Bermann.
It is the story of Francisco Orellana (1511
– 1546), the first explorer of the Amazon, and of the dream of
El
Dorado.
As
a
youngster,
when
reading
stories
like
The Deer-slayer and The
Last
of
the
Mohicans, I usually took sides with the natives – history
has
given them a rough deal and those smallpox infected blankets were a
particularly nasty touch. But now, when looking at the alternative –
which would be nothing but forest and endless prairie dotted with the
scowling buffalo – this most powerful and most creative nation on
Earth, literally reaching for the stars, almost justifies whatever
atrocity these old Puritans had on their conscience.
Further
to
the
South,
the
native
nations
had
built
impressive
cities
–
in
its
days
Tenochtitlan
was
the
best-sanitized
metropolis
of
the
two
hemispheres – and their astronomers calculated the Venus periods down
to
a second. In the Andes the people spoke of the darkness in the
beginning before Viracocha came from Lake
Titicaca, bringing his light
to this world. He was also the god of the storms, holding thunderbolts
in his
hands, and from his eyes fell tears and moistened the land as rain. He
created
the earth, the sky, the stars and mankind, and he traveled the land in
the
guise of a beggar.
The
plights
of
his
creation
made
him
weep
until
his
tears
drowned
the
old
world
in
a
big
flood.
Then
he
made
everything new and
took to
the road again, working miracles and teaching the basics of
civilization. Viracocha eventually
departed somewhere near Manta, Ecuador,
walking on the waters of the Pacific Ocean, never to be seen again.
This
is
the
version
of
a
Christian
chronicler,
recording
the
tales
of
his
indigenous
parishioners.
Needless
to
say,
the
good
padre
filtered
and
percolated
what he heard according to his own preconceptions,
giving us “bearded” warrior angels” and a “prophecy”
of
the
saintly
Viracocha’s return. In the
actual story Viracocha
didn’t bring about a deluge, but had turned his creation to stone.
The
climate in the Andes can be of an almost extraterrestrial harshness.
Cuzco is
the capital with the highest amount of UV radiation outside of the
Polar
Regions. The altitudes have changed the genotype, and the people here
have the
highest count of red blood cells anywhere; El Niño has a history
of
obliterating entire civilizations. The history of the Incas
seems to
have risen from a saga of exile, defiance and
revenge. For many years Inca Manco Capac (1207/1230)
and his siblings stayed hidden in the cave of Pacariqtamba
in the Valley of Cuzco. We hear of fighting between the brothers before
the
leader of the rebels, the Andean Aeneas of this founding saga, set
himself up
as the first Inca. It
would be wrong to speak of Incas in the plural. There was only one
Inca, the
ruler.
The
last Inca, Sapa-Inca Tupaq
Amaru, was murdered – the
Spanish say executed
– in 1572. His people continued to resist. As late as 1780 Tupac Amaru’s
great-grandson, Tupac Amaru
II (1742 –
1781) – born Jose Gabriel Condorcanqui
– became the leader of an indigenous uprising in colonial Peru.
It
was the first major uprising against the colonial masters in two
centuries and
made him a mythical figure in the Peruvian struggle for independence
and for
the indigenous rights movement. The Spanish captured Tupac Amaru II and
on the main plaza
in Cuzco, the same
place where his great-grandfather had been beheaded, they made him
witness the
execution of his wife, of his eldest son, his uncle, and of the
brother-in-law.
Then they tortured him, and finally had him torn to pieces with four
horses
chained to his limbs. The revolt continued, and the Spanish murdered
the rest
of Tupac Amaru’s
family,
except for his eleven-year-old son Fernando. The kid was shipped to
Spain to
rot in prison for the rest of a short life. It is not known if any
other member
of the Inca’s royal family had survived this final purge. It seems very
possible. DNA testing on imperial mummies from approximately 1400 AD
has lately
revealed that a direct descendant is living and working in Washington
DC.
From
approximately 1200 AD to 1438 AD the Incas ruled over an insignificant
provincial tribe that populated the vicinity of Cuzco. Then Pachacuti
Inca Yupanqui (1438
– 1493),
the ninth Sapa Inca, introduced sweeping
reforms and
created the largest empire of the Americas, the “Tahuantinsuyu” (the united four
provinces). Initially he was not the man meant to succeed his father,
but when
tribal enemies invaded Cuzco’s hinterland, Pachacuti
was the man of the hour while his father and the crown prince literally
ran for
the mountains. Pachacuti rallied the army
and
defeated the invader – legend says even the stones rose to fight for Pachacuti. If
anybody, Inca Pachacuti truly deserved the
appellative “the Great.” He was a tyrant and his objective was the
usual for
every tyranny: dominion and prestige. Yet it was a dominion over people
with a
share in the common wealth. The rules were simple: “Ama suwa,
ama llulla,
ama quella
– do not steal,
do not lie, do not be lazy” and you shall prosper. There are lesser
causes. The
Inca didn’t make a promise of paradise, but he offered a sustainable
world
against the three riders of the Andean apocalypse: El Niño,
earthquakes and
landslides. The Inca’s masonry has passed the test in 1615 and 1960
with flying
colors. It was Inca Pachacuti’s mission
statement,
hewn in stone. Nobody was to go hungry, nobody to die without being
cared for.
Nobody was to go without clothing. This Inca had supreme confidence in
the
human capacity to meet every challenge. An extensive network of roads
and
storehouses secured food supplies for five years in advance; every crop
imaginable was tested and harvested in suitable areas. The diet was
rich in
tubers; the Guinea pig provided the protein.
The
Andes ascend through roughly four distinct climate zones. The most
inhospitable
region around the peaks is the realm of the gods, the zone below is the
arid
home of the alpacas and it leaves the traveler barely functional if he
doesn’t
chew a wad of coca leaves. To this day the alpaca and the llama provide
fiber
for textiles and as beasts of burden they have remained an
indispensable means
of transportation in the extremes of the Andes. The two arable climate
zones
below are separated in countless pockets of regional micro-climates,
each with
its own indigenous varieties of tubers, yams, beans, bananas, bread
fruit,
squash, and coca. Under the Inca, extensive terracing and irrigation on
a truly
monumental scale utilized every inch of soil even in regions so rugged
that
soil had to be carried in baskets over swinging suspension bridges
across the
gorges. An extensive network of roads and storehouses secured food
supplies for
five years in advance. Newly discovered crops were methodically tested
in
Cuzco’s equivalent of Kew Gardens, a botanic station in the shape of a
Greek
amphitheatre with soil samples from every region of the empire. At
present we
know of fifty indigenous varieties of the potato. (Wrapped in a shiny
laminate,
a single tuber from a blue variety has become a much sought for and
expensive
greeting gift in Japan. Oh these Japanese!)
The dominium of Pachacuti came as a late arrival, almost as
late as the Spanish. The remaining quipus – strings and knots to aid
the memory of a messenger – tell us how this was achieved. They give us
the time – four knots on a scarlet thread, indicating the fourth year
of the ruler – and the number of subdued regions: ten small knots on a
grey string. To each of the grey knots is fastened a green thread with
knots indicating the number of enemies killed and a read string for the
imperial army with color coded knots for the number of casualties and
the district of their recruitment. Yellow strands represent gold and
white strings silver; each is suspended from the thread of a province
to assist the mental arithmetic of the imperial bookkeeper. This
doesn’t sound or look very poetic, but it does tell us of a ruler who
shook the Earth. Inca Pachacuti employed a combination of force and
diplomacy.
His
emissaries
traveled
far
and
wide,
explaining
to
the
locals
the
benefits
of
signing
up
to
the
Inca’s
empire.
Many
of
the
local
chiefdoms
did yield without firing a shot. Weighing the
benefits, indigenous cultures, some far more
ancient than the Inca’s, found it acceptable to abandon their
traditions. The
benefits were great. The Sun God’s virgins in Cuzco’s nunnery practiced
“pray
and labor” with a capital “L.” Their example for an industrious life at
the
loom was of more importance than their prayers. The penal
system seemed
barbaric. Naturally the Inca would not tolerate offenses against the
dignity of
his person nor could a thief count on mitigating circumstances.
Invariably the
penalty was loss of the offending hand. But after the execution of the
penalty,
a doctor would attend to the wound and restore the offender to health.
He would
continue to receive his food rations and clothing like everybody else,
yet
until his dying days was made to sit in a public place as a warning
example. There
was awareness for the empire’s dependence on the common people’s labor
and
their right to be cared for. In
the 16th century the Inca’s construction projects and 14,000 miles of
roadwork
were second only to the Romans. Many structures of the Inca have
remained in
use.
Entire
cities
were
constructed
from
scratch
in
one
go.
Everywhere
the
planning
mind
is
clearly
visible
in
the
irrigation
systems,
the
terraces,
the
storage
facilities, the roads and service stations. The
Peruvian
engineer had to make due without slide rule and blueprint, but he could
rely on
the skills and ingenuity of contracted craftsmen and tested his design
with
scaled down models. Had the Inca’s empire survived untouched, it may
very well
have had the potential to outlive our own civilization, despite of all
the
feats of superior technology. One day, things will come to their
natural end
and I can envision a future where our distant great-grandchildren watch
from
deep space the dying of the Earth. Then a rugged civilization like that
of the
Incas will be the last citadel of human habitation. We even have
evidence for
hot air ballooning; it seems some of the Inca grandees received an
air-born
sendoff similar to the Viking princes on their burning burial ships. At
the
arrival of the Spanish, the Inca’s surgeons were on the forefront of
medical knowledge;
they are still remembered for their brain surgery. Quechua dentists
were the
first to restore teeth with fillings, using anesthetics to numb the
pain.
Although it must be admitted that neither on the account of hygiene nor
of
gastronomy the Quechuas left an impression. The Inca himself was seen
to
withdraw from his meal for a complete change of costume when he
spilled his
food, but the commoner didn’t even bother to wash or peel his potatoes
before
boiling them, and never changed his dress for a wash before it
fell off
his body in tatters.
Each
province had a governor overseeing the local officials, who in turn
supervised
the agriculture, the cities and the mines. There were separate chains
of
command for the military and for religious institutions. The local
officials
were responsible for settling disputes and keeping track of each
family's
contribution to the “mita,”
the mandatory public service.
Cuzco
was laid out as a virtual representation of the empire. There was a
sector of
the city for each province centering on the road leading to that
province;
nobles and immigrants lived in the sector corresponding to their
origin. Each
sector was further divided into areas for the upper and lower moieties.
The
more prestigious a noble was, the closer he lived to the center.
Without the
assistance of letters the Inca employed a surprisingly sophisticated
bureaucracy, administrating a patchwork of languages, cultures and
peoples. The Chimu-people already used
money
in their commerce,
whereas the empire’s economy as a whole was based on barter, forced
labor and
taxing luxury goods. The people used to say, that the Inca’s tax
collector
would even pluck the lice from the lame and old.
Relays
of messengers delivered oral missives at the speed of 150 miles a day.
The
registrars stored information using strings and knots. “The
Quipucamayu, the keeper of the quipus, would use a black cord, the color that
indicated
time, as the central string. Then he would suspend from it a lot of
uncolored
strings with many little knots tied in them. The reader would
understand it to
mean that before the first emperor (crimson thread) for a very long
time (many
threads and knots), the people had no ruler (no scarlet threads), no
chiefs (no
deep purple), no religion (no blue threads), and no administrative
departments
(no variegated threads)” (Louis Baudin,
The Incas of Peru).
This
was indeed the message. The Inca had ordered to erase all
memories of
the past.
He
proclaimed
that
before
his
arrival
there
was
no
history
and
no
civilization.
His
was a world without letters, but not without ideology and
indoctrination! There
were schools, “Yachayhuasis”
(houses
of
knowledge)
for
the
boys
and
“Acllahuasis”
for
the
girls, at this time
virtually the only institution
to educate girls anywhere in the world.
The
offspring of the provincial elites was obliged to take residence
in the
Inca’s capital and sat
in the same classroom with the youngsters from the Inca’s clan. In
return
the
Inca
married
out
women
of
Inca
nobility
to
local
rulers.
This
created
a
federalist
system
under
central
rule,
which
was
divided in
four
provinces: “Chinchaysuyu”
(the seaboard to the north), “Antisuyu”
(the
eastern
face
of
the
Andes),
“Qontisuyu”
(the
triangle
between Nazca, Arequipa and Cuzco), and
“Qollasuyu” (the
seaboard to the south). The four districts intersected in the middle of
the
capital, Cuzco. On the eve of the arrival of the Spanish, a second
capital was
constructed from scratch – Quito. The lines of communication were
beginning to stretch too far, yet one can't help wondering whether such
a city
at the extreme end of the empire didn't have the potential of becoming
bad news
for the central government in Cuzco, just as Constantinople was bad
news for
Rome.
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In
fact
in
this
system
of
centralized
paternalism
it
did become bad news.
There was only one person who was allowed to be a complete individual,
and if another person was laying claim to the same privilege, the
situation was rife for civil war.
This was the constitutional weakness in the system, a
weakness that could have brought it down even without the Spanish
intervention. In the end the Inca’s state, despite of all the knots and
strings of the registrars, still remained an oral society where the
constitution depended on individuals able and willing to recall the
content of their covenant from memory. Things were kept simple and
generic. Loyalty could only be owed to the Inca, who was both, a person
and a symbol, and everything depended on the competence and initiative
by the magistrate on the spot. There was no space for solicitation on
the base of written prescripts and traditions. Even the practice of
human sacrifices had not yet come to an end, but compared to the
institutionalized cruelty and emphasis on inflicting pain by previous
civilizations, there was a shift in emphasis. Tightly swaddled and
under the influence of narcotics, children of the nobility were left to
die on the icy mountain peaks, face to face with the spirits of the
ancients. Surrounded by its toys, the impression on the face of such
mummified child seems to suggest a peaceful death, yet X-rays reveal
the distress; the little girl must have tried to get the wrappings off
and in her struggle had defecated into the bandages.
Time,
the
real
thing
that
weakens
our
knees,
is
made
up
of
the
stories
we
pass
on
to
the
future,
and
often
these stories are not true. We invent
golden ages that never were and we pick our heroes from the muck of
poorly documented periods; we either glorify the ignominies of past
horrors or try expunging them from the records altogether.
“Every author,”
says Jorge Luis Borges somewhere, “is
creating his own pedigree.” The same can be said about the nations.
To obliterate the past we need not wait for asteroids or the next Ice
Age. In the same spirit as Pachacuti, the first Chinese emperor Qin Shi
Huang (259 – 210 BC)
ordered to burn all records preceding his rule, including the writings
of Confucius. And with the books of the master they also burned many of
his students. Not everybody could be apprehended and the survivors hid
the precious manuscripts behind the plastering on the walls of their
houses.
The
Inca
was
fortunate.
His
conqueror
wrote
him
a
gracious
epitaph.
In
1589,
the
last
of
Pizarro’s
henchmen,
Don
Mancio
Serra
de
Leguisamo,
confessed his remorse: “I find myself
guilty to have destroyed by evil example the
people who
had such a wise government as was enjoyed by these natives. Throughout
them
there was not a thief, nor a vicious man, nor an adulteress, or a
prostitute.
The men had honest and useful occupations. When they saw us putting
locks on
our doors, they supposed it was out of fear and not because there could
be
thieves.”
© – 11/8/2009 –
by michael sympson, 3,000 words, all rights
reserved
