Citation
Kinship and seasonal migration among the Aymara of Southern Peru

Material Information

Title:
Kinship and seasonal migration among the Aymara of Southern Peru human adaptation to energy scarcity
Added title page title:
Human adaptation to energy scarcity
Creator:
Collins, Jane Lou, 1954- ( Dissertant )
Wagley, Charles ( Thesis advisor )
Hardman-de-Bautista, M. J. ( Reviewer )
Margolis, Maxine ( Reviewer )
Oliver-Smith, Anthony R. ( Reviewer )
Alexander, John ( Reviewer )
Place of Publication:
Gainesville, Fla.
Publisher:
University of Florida
Publication Date:
Copyright Date:
1981
Language:
English
Physical Description:
xi, 346 leaves : ill., maps ; 28 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Agricultural land ( jstor )
Agriculture ( jstor )
Anthropology ( jstor )
Coffee industry ( jstor )
Food ( jstor )
Herding ( jstor )
Kinship ( jstor )
Parents ( jstor )
Potatoes ( jstor )
Seasonal migration ( jstor )
Adaptation (Physiology) ( lcsh )
Anthropology thesis Ph. D ( lcsh )
Aymara Indians -- Peru ( lcsh )
Bioenergetics ( lcsh )
Dissertations, Academic -- Anthropology -- UF ( lcsh )
Human beings -- Effect of environment on -- Peru ( lcsh )
Human ecology -- Peru ( lcsh )
Human geography -- Peru ( lcsh )
Genre:
bibliography ( marcgt )
non-fiction ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
Peru -- Sarata

Notes

Abstract:
The people of the southern Peruvian highlands have adapted to a condition of energy scarcity through seasonal migration to lowland areas. In the district of Sarata (a fictitious name for a real district on the northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca) people spend three to seven months of every year growing coffee in the Tambopata Valley of the eastern Andes. This migratory pattern, which is hundreds of years old, provides the context for an investigation of human adaptive processes. The present study presents models of the flow of energy through high-altitude households and shows that energy is a limiting factor for the population. There are two periods when energy subsidies from lowland regions become crucial to the continued survival of highland households. These are the periods of peak growth and reproduction experienced by households early in their developmental cycles, and times of sharply lowered productivity caused by environmental crises such as drought or killing frosts. Seasonal migration provides the subsidies which households rely on during these periods. Seasonal migration in Sarata is organized primarily through the structure of kin relationships. Exchanges of labor and goods between consanguineal , affinal, and ritual kin make coordinated production in two widely separated zones possible. The information, initial support, and productive knowledge required in the migratory effort are also transmitted along kinship lines. Prior to the Spanish Conquest, political institutions as well as kinship served to organize the exploitation of lowland ecosystems. When regional political organizations were broken down and replaced by Spanish institutions, kinship structure and to a certain extent community relationships became entirely responsible for maintaining seasonal migration as a strategy. Seasonal exploitation of lowland ecosystems is shown to be vital to the survival of the population of the district of Sarata because of the energy subsidies it provides. This fact must be kept in mind when development efforts for the region are designed. The migration of the people of Sarata to the Tambopata Valley also provides a potential model for the exploitation of the eastern slopes of the Andes, a region which Peru is eager to bring into production and where most previous development efforts have been unsuccessful.
Thesis:
Thesis (Ph. D.)--University of Florida, 1981.
Bibliography:
Includes bibliographic references (leaves 328-345).
General Note:
Typescript.
General Note:
Vita.
Statement of Responsibility:
by Jane Lou Collins.

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Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
Copyright [name of dissertation author]. Permission granted to the University of Florida to digitize, archive and distribute this item for non-profit research and educational purposes. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions requires permission of the copyright holder.
Resource Identifier:
028166836 ( AlephBibNum )
08353352 ( OCLC )
ABS3600 ( NOTIS )

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KINSHIP AND SEASONAL MIGRATION
AMONG THE AYMARA OF SOUTHERN PERU:
HUMAN ADAPTATION TO ENERGY SCARCITY









By

JANE LOU COLLINS


A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE COUNCIL OF
THE UNIVERSITY- OF FLORIDA
IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE
DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY





UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA































Copyright 1981

by

Jane Lou Collins

























To my parents

Annabelle June Collins

and

Robert Harris Collins
















ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


Many people have helped me in the various stages of the project

preparation, field research, and the writing of this work. Funding for

the period of field research was provided by an Inter-American Foundation

Learning Fellowship for Social Change. Three months of support for write-

up was also provided by Inter-American Foundation. Faculty and staff

of the Universidad Nacional Thcnica del Altiplano (National Technical

University of the Altiplano) in Puno, Peru, gave institutional support

to this project in Peru. Their letters to government agencies and local

officials, their lively interest in the research, and their suggestions

and orientations were greatly appreciated. In particular, Professor

Vfctor Bustinza, Director of Research, and Professors Oscar Chaquilla,

Eleodoro Chahuares, and Rodolfo Machicao contributed greatly to the

success of my field experience. Professor Machicao provided invaluable

introductions to persons in the area of field research and was kind

enough to open his home there to my husband and myself during our stay.

Four Peruvian research assistants aided in the gathering of

data. John Wilfredo Apaza, a former student of agronomy at the UNTA,

spent a great deal of time visiting communities of Sarata with my husband

and myself and helped in the gathering of production data for the region.

His untimely death in 1980 saddened us deeply and deprived Peru of a

very bright, capable, and enthusiastic young scholar. Juan Lira Condori,











a student of sociology at the Universidad Nacional de San Agustin

(National University of St. Augustine) in Arequipa helped greatly in

the gathering of data on consumption and meal patterns, and through

discussions of his own research I learned a great deal about the history

of the haciendas and the present-day SAIS (Sociedad Agricola de Inter6s

Social--Agrarian Social Interest Society) in the eastern part of the

district of Sarata. Eva Mercado Vargas helped to transcribe some very

difficult parts of festivals and to translate them from Aymara to

Spanish, as did Yolanda L6pez Callo. Ms. L6pez was also extremely helpful

in orienting me to the district and to her own home community. She is

currently working as an instructor of the Aymara language at the Univer-

sity of Florida.

Professors Alejandro Camino, Carlos Arambur6 of the Pontificia

Universidad Cat6lica, and H6ctor Martfnez of the Universidad Nacional

Mayor de San Marcos provided assistance and suggestions in Lima. Cor-

respondence with Professor Thierry Saignes helped me clear up important

questions about the history of the northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca.

The companionship and suggestions of North American researchers Peter

White, Benjamin Orlove, Katherine Julien, Phil Blair, and Lucy Briggs

were greatly appreciated.

In the district of Sarata innumerable persons made an effort to

integrate my husband and myself into their fiestas, their exchange net-

works, and many other aspects of their lives, and made our stay a ful-

filling personal experience as well as a successful period of research.

In particular, the support of Lucio Ticona Collquehuanca, Gregoria Sardbia,










Lucia L6pez de Lima, Abdon Ticona Mamani, Juan Ticona Colquehuanca,

Santiago Calli Apaza, and Javier Mamani Mamani must be acknowledged.

The Hermanas de San Jos6 in Sarata and Father Domingo Llanque in Juli

also provided much hospitality and good advice.

I am grateful to the members of my doctoral committee: Professors

Charles Wagley, M. J. Hardman, Anthony Oliver-Smith, Maxine Margolis,

and John Alexander for their advice and support. I am especially grateful

to Doctor M. J. Hardman for first awakening my interest in the Aymara

language and people and for providing me with much of the training in

field methods upon which my research relied. Doctor Charles Wagley

provided guidance, encouragement and support throughout all stages of

my research without which the realization of this work would have been

much more difficult.

Finally, I would like to thank my husband, Michael Painter, whose

doctoral research in Peru was carried out at the same time as my own.

His continual encouragement, excellent advice, and good humor throughout

our graduate studies and research have not only made this work possible,

but made it a truly enjoyable time in our lives.
















TABLE OF CONTENTS


Paqge

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . ... iv

ABSTRACT .. . . . . . . . . . ix

CHAPTER

ONE SEASONAL MIGRATION IN AN ANDEAN CONTEXT:
DESCRIPTION AND HISTORY . . . . . . . . . 1

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . 1
Highland Aymara in the Tropical Forest . . . . 9
Land Tenure, Energy Deficiency, and Seasonal
Migration . . . . . . . . . . .17
Historical Contact with the Ceja de Selva . . . 23
The Pre-Hispanic Roots. . .. . . . 23
The Search for Gold and the Escape
from Forced Labor . . . . . ... 28
Missions, Quinine, and Rubber . . . . . 31
The Twentieth Century . . . . . . . 35
The Altiplano Setting . . . . . . . 39
The political environment . . . . .. 39
Social stratification . . . . . . 47
Language and ethnicity . . . . . . 48

TWO SEASONAL MIGRATION AND HUMAN ADAPTATION:
THEORETICAL ISSUES . . . . . . . . ... 51

Human Adaptation . . . . . . . . . 51
Introduction . . . . . . . . . 51
Genetic and Physiological Adaptation . . .. 52
Natural selection . . . . . . . 52
Acclimatization . . . . . . . . 54
Cultural Adaptation . . . . . . . . 55
The evolution of a capacity for culture . . 55
The identification of cultural
adaptations . . . . . . . . 58
The functioning of cultural adaptations . 62
Adaptation on the Southern Peruvian Altiplano . 67
Stresses and responses ........... 67
Seasonal migration and adaptation to
high altitude . . . . . . . . 71











CHAPTER Page

The Role of Energy in Human Adaptation . . . 73
Energy in natural selection . . . . . 73
Energy as a limiting factor . . . . . 76
Population Movement and Human Adaptation . . . 77
Adaptive Movement in Complex Societies . . . 77
Temporary Migration . . . . . . . . 80
Seasonal Migration . . . . . . . . 82

THREE THE ALTIPLANO RESOURCE BASE AND PATTERNS
OF SUBSISTENCE . ... . . . . . . . 87

Primary Productivity and Production . . . . . 87
Geographical and Climatic Factors . . . . 87
Natural Life Zones . . . . . . . . 93
The lakeside zone . . . . . . . 96
The intermediate zone . . . . . . 106
The herding zone . . . . . . . 109
Productivity of the Zones . . . . . . 112
Consumption . . . . .... . . . 118
Preservation of Foods . . . . . . . 118
Food Sources and Exchange . . . . . . 119
Meal Composition and Patterns . . . . . 122
Seasonal Variation in the Diet . . . . . 126
Food Beliefs . . . . . . . 130
Evaluation of the Altiplano Diet ..... 131
Food Distribution within the Household . . .. 138
Energy Expenditure . . . . . . . . .. 139
The Division of Labor . . . . . . . 139
Exchanges of Labor . . . . . . . . 146
Annual and Regional Variation in Energy
Expenditure . . ............ .. ... 148
A Summary of Subsistence in Sarata . . . . . 150

FOUR SEASONAL MIGRATION AND ENERGY DEFICIENCY . . . . . 160

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . 160
The Flow of Energy through Altiplano Households . . 163
Description . . . . . . . ... . 163
Analysis . . . . . ... 182
Reproduction, Crisis Survival, and the Role of
Seasonal Migration . . . . . . . . .. 196

FIVE THE CULTURAL FRAMEWORK FOR MIGRATORY ACTIVITY:
AYMARA KINSHIP AND COMMUNITY . . . . . . . 201

The Role of Kinship 201
Descent and the Structure of Consanguineal
Kinship . . . . . . . . . . 203












CHAPTER

The Nuclear Family Household . . . . .
Marriage and Affines . . . . . . .
Compadrazqo . . . .. .... . . .. .
The Community and the Marka . . . . . .

SIX KINSHIP AND COMMUNITY IN THE MIGRATORY PROCESS . .

Experiences of Kinship and Migration in One
Sarata Community . . . . . . . .
Mauricio Mayta Condori and Justina
Condori Apaza . . . . . . . .
Prospera Chaina Molli and Paulino
Mayta Paxsi
Nicolds Mayta Paxsi and Feleca Paxsi
Ticona . . . . . . . . . .
Daniela Mayta Condori . . . . . .
Santiago Mayta Mamani . . . . . .
Migration and the Development Cycle of the
Household . .
The Household in Historical Patterns of Migration
The Kinship Support System . . . . . .

SEVEN CONCLUSIONS . . . . . . .

Theoretical Implications . . . . . .
Policy Implications . . . . . . .


APPENDIX

ONE THE AYMARA PHONEMIC ALPHABET . . . . .

TWO NOTES TO TABLE 4-1 . . . . . . .

THREE NOTES TO TABLE 4-2 ... . . . .

FOUR NOTES TO TABLE 4-3 . . . . . . .

FIVE DYNAMO PROGRAM FQR MODEL OF LAKESIDE ZONE
(ALL VALUES x 100 KCAL) . . . .

SIX DYNAMO PROGRAM FOR MODEL OF INTERMEDIATE ZONE
(ALL VALUES x 106 KCAL) . . .

SEVEN DYNAMO PROGRAM FOR MODEL OF HERDING ZONE
(ALL VALUES x 106 KCAL) . . . . .

REFERENCES . . . . . .. . . . .

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH . . . . . . . .


Page

222
228
239
245

249


249

251

254

257
259
259

260
266
271

291

291
300


. . . 305

. . . 306

. . . 311

. . . 315


. . . 319


. . . 322


. . . 325

. . . 328

. . . 346
















Abstract of Dissertation Presented to the Graduate Council
of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy



KINSHIP AND SEASONAL MIGRATION
AMONG THE AYMARA OF SOUTHERN PERU:
HUMAN ADAPTATION TO ENERGY SCARCITY

By

Jane Lou Collins

December 1981

Chairman: Charles Wagley
Major Department: Anthropology

The people of the southern Peruvian highlands have adapted to a

condition of energy scarcity through seasonal migration to lowland areas.

In the district of Sarata (a fictitious name for a real district on the

northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca) people spend three to seven months

of every year growing coffee in the Tambopata Valley of the eastern Andes.

This migratory pattern, which is hundreds of years old, provides the

context for an investigation of human adaptive processes.

The present study presents models of the flow of energy through

high-altitude households and shows that energy is a limiting factor for

the population. There are two periods when energy subsidies from lowland

regions become crucial to the continued survival of highland households.

These are the periods of peak growth and reproduction experienced by

households early in their developmental cycles, and times of sharply

lowered productivity caused by environmental crises such as drought or










killing frosts. Seasonal migration provides the subsidies which house-

holds rely on during these periods.

Seasonal migration in Sarata is organized primarily through the

structure of kin relationships. Exchanges of labor and goods between

consanguineal, affinal, and ritual kin make coordinated production in two

widely separated zones possible. The information, initial support, and

productive knowledge required in the migratory effort are also transmitted

along kinship lines. Prior to the Spanish Conquest, political institu-

tions as well as kinship served to organize the exploitation of lowland

ecosystems. When regional political organizations were broken down and

replaced by Spanish institutions, kinship structure and to a certain

extent community relationships became entirely responsible for maintaining

seasonal migration as a strategy.

Seasonal exploitation of lowland ecosystems is shown to be vital

to the survival of the population of the district of Sarata because of

the energy subsidies it provides. This fact must be kept in mind when

development efforts for the region are designed. The migration of the

people of Sarata to the Tambopata Valley also provides a potential model

for the exploitation of the eastern slopes of the Andes, a region which

Peru is eager to bring into production and where most previous develop-

ment efforts have been unsuccessful.
















CHAPTER ONE
SEASONAL MIGRATION IN AN ANDEAN CONTEXT:
DESCRIPTION AND HISTORY


Introduction

Every year approximately one-third of the households in the

Aymara-speaking district of SarataI leave the altiplano for three to

seven months to tend their coffee fields in the Tambopata Valley. The

valley lies just 130 kilometers north of the district "as the crow flies"

(see Figure 1-1), but the road which crosses the snowcapped eastern

range of the Andes and winds down into the valley covers 360 kilometers

in its journey. The steep slopes of the valley are covered with the

dense vegetation of the tropical rain forest. The valley is part of

that ecosystem known to Peruvians as the ceja de selva--"the eyebrow

of the jungle"; or as la muralla verde--"the green wall."

Tambopata contrasts sharply with the homeland of the seasonal

migrants. The district of Sarata lies on the northeastern shore of

Lake Titicaca, running from the edge of the lake north toward the

eastern Andean range. The district is considered the most temperate

part of the altiplano, having milder temperatures and more rainfall than

is generally the case. During the six months of the growing season

rain falls nearly every day, pastures are green, and in the zones near

the lake, potatoes, barley, guinoa, beans, and other crops are produced.

For at least six months of every year, however, the rains cease,

1Sarata is a fictitious name for the district where field re-
search was carried out.

























































Figure 1-1. Location of Sarata in Peru











and the landscape becomes grey-brown and dusty, with the basic color

scheme broken only by the brilliant blue of the lake and sky and the

green of a few irrigated bean plots.

Oxygen and carbon dioxide are limited at the altitude of the

altiplano, which is 3812 meters, or approximately 12,500 feet. This

fact, combined with low temperatures, nighttime frosts, frequent hail-

storms, and periodic droughts, contributes to low levels of primary

productivity in the altiplano environment. The agriculturalists and

herders of the region receive a low return on the energy they invest in

production. Thomas (1972, 1976) has suggested that energy is seriously

deficient in the altiplano environment, and that the inhabitants of the

altiplano have developed behavioral strategies for dealing with this

problem. Migratory activity has been specifically suggested as one

such strategy. Some researchers feel, however, that a precise definition

and demonstration of energy deficiency is necessary before claims of

adaptation can be made (Smith 1979).

The present study will argue that energy is indeed a limiting

factor for altiplano populations and that seasonal migration serves to

alleviate the stress caused by lack of energy resources in crucial

periods. In particular, it will be shown that energy scarcity poten-

tially affects the survival and reproduction of altiplano households

and that seasonal migration provides added subsidies which households

rely on at critical periods of growth and reproduction, and of agricul-

tural crisis.

Households have been chosen as the unit of analysis in approach-

ing this problem since it is at this level that decisions are made with












regard to productive processes, including migration. The kinship ties

which are shared by the members of a household, and which bind them to

other households, form the social relations of production in the district

of Sarata. They organize labor and coordinate the realization of

different productive activities which occur in points as distant from

one another as the altiplano and the Tambopata Valley. Seasonal migra-

tion among the Aymara of Sarata provides a striking example of the way

in which institutions of kin and community can order activities related

to the survival and reproduction of people in their environment. For

this reason, Chapters Five and Six of the present work will be devoted

to Aymara kin and community relationships and their role in migratory

activity.

The question of whether energy is truly a limiting factor in

the district of Sarata will be addressed through the use of energy flow

models which were prepared for households in its three ecological, or

natural life zones. These models were quantified with data gathered

through participant observation and interviews. The models serve a

descriptive purpose, as a simplified representation of the flow of

energy through the households. The simulation of the models also serves

as an analytical tool for the answering of questions about energy

availability and the effect of seasonal migration. Basic data on the

altiplano environment, and on processes of production, consumption, and

energy expenditure will be provided in Chapter Three, and the models

and their analysis in Chapter Four.

The migration of altiplano dwellers to Tambopata has been inter-

preted by many observers as an adaptation to a problem of land scarcity











which has arisen in the past half-century. The present work argues

that adaptations which exist in the present are a result of the way in

which people have altered and shaped their behavior to deal with

environmental problems in the past. They reflect changes in behavior

which occur slowly over time. It is unlikely that the carefully scheduled

patterns of movement which occur between the highlands and the valley,

the complex networks of exchange and mutual assistance, and the calcu-

lated maximization of benefits from the two ecosystems, could have

arisen full-formed in response to a recent trend toward reduced size of

landholdings. Neither is this assumption supported by the historical

evidence. As land pressure increases, seasonal migration may become

more essential to the subsistence of sarateios, but it is not land

pressure which gave rise to the strategy.

The current movement to Tambopata is an extension of earlier

patterns of seasonal migration and the conditions which give rise to

it have been a fact of life on the altiplano for hundreds of years, if

not millenia, as subsequent sections of this chapter will show. The

recognition of this fact allows us to deal with the adaptive behavior

of seasonal migration in a more appropriate time frame. The social

institutions which make migration possible today have grown up in con-

junction with migratory activity over many hundreds of years. By looking

at how the Aymara oF the district of Sarata make decisions about and

organize their migrations through the mechanisms of kinship today, and

by using historical data to reconstruct how they may have done this in

the past, a clearer picture of seasonal migration as an adaptive process


is achieved.











Many studies of adaptive human behaviors establish that a given

activity has a specific function in its environmental setting and go

no further. How such a behavior came to be or why it continues to be

practiced is left unclear. Some researchers have postulated elaborate

regulatory mechanisms which would serve to maintain behaviors which

keep a system in "equilibrum" (Rappaport 1968). In the case of the

Aymara of Sarata it is not necessary to postulate complex regulatory

mechanisms or cybernetic models to explain why people behave in an

adaptive way. The adaptive nature of seasonal migration is recognized by

saratenos, and the exploitation of lowland ecosystems has been a conscious

strategy on the part of altiplano populations for more than 1000 years.

Furthermore, the Aymara have a deep awareness of the potential and

limitations of their social structure and they consciously manipulate and

use its relationships to make seasonal migration possible.

Research on the problem of human adaptation to the altiplano

environment was carried out during a year's field work in the district

of Sarata. Participant observation was used to determine patterns of

production and migration throughout the district. In-depth structured

interviews were carried out to obtain detailed information on produc-

tion, consumption, and energy expenditure. Participant observation and

interviews were also carried out during the coffee harvest in the

Tambopata Valley when the author accompanied Aymara producers from Sarata

to that region. The research was carried out principally in the Aymara

language.

As previously described, much of the data collected were inte-

grated into energy flow models and these models were simulated by computer











in order to provide information on energy availability and the effect

of migration. Another specialized analytical technique relied on was

componential analysis, which was used to arrive at a description of the

structure of Aymara kinship patterns which organize migration. This

methodology, which is derived from the field methods of the structural

linguist, was applied both to kin terms and kinship behavior of the

district of Sarata. Finally, migratory histories collected in Aymara,

and early Spanish writings, were consulted in order to reconstruct his-

torical patterns of migration in the district and present-day kinship

terms were compared with those described in 1603 by Bertonio (1879)

in order to show the changes in kinship which accompanied changes in the

strategy of seasonal migration.

Seasonal migration among the Aymara of Sarata is not only a

topic of relevance to theories of human adaptation. Important issues

of economic development and public policy are also involved. The migra-

tion to Tambopata is an example of an autonomously developed adaptive

strategy which has survived from pre-Incaic times and has been altered

to meet the current needs of the population. Older strategies of lowland

exploitation have not been given up in favor of integration into a cash

economy. Rather, the Aymara of Sarata consciously introduced cash crops

into a lowland ecosystem and reshaped their traditional migratory pattern

just enough to accommodate this new development. Their seasonal migra-

tory activity exemplifies the way in which a "marginal" population has,

at least temporarily, been able to exercise control over the changes

which accompany the introduction of awestern-style cash economy.











This favorable situation may be reversed at any time, however,

by government policies which would deny highlanders access to valley

lands, as the Law of Peasant Communities did, at least on paper, in

1969. Government policy makers are often unaware of the close relation-

ships between highland and valley ecosystems. They do not recognize that

to deny people from areas like Sarata access to lowland regions would

at worst jeopardize their subsistence, and at best, trigger mass migra-

tion to the already overcrowded cities of the Peruvian coast. The idea

that migration to the lowlands is a recent phenomenon caused by land

shortages led policy makers in the Peruvian government to feel that

token land redistribution in the highlands would make seasonal migration

unnecessary. This widespread misconception could lead current officials

to the conclusion that token development efforts in the highlands would

make control of lowland ecosystems unnecessary to its inhabitants, and

thus further the current trend to place ceja de selva and selva lands

in the hands of large corporations (Agronoticias 1980).

Finally, the ceja de selva of the Tambopata Valley is part of

an ecological zone which has, until recently, seen very little develop-

ment in Peru. The experience of saratenos in bringing this zone into

production, and the changes brought about by the introduction of cash

crops, provide important insights into the problems involved in the

exploitation of the region. To date, all efforts to colonize the

Peruvian ceja de selva by persons unfamiliar with the zone have failed.

As a model of seasonal use, by persons who have experience in the

region and whose survival in many ways depends on it, the example











provided by saratenos is significant. Actions which would deny sara-

tenos access to the valley would not only deny them resources which are of

the utmost importance for their survival in the altiplano environment.

It would also ignore a potential model for the effective utilization of

a previously unexploited ecological zone.


Highland Aymara in the Tropical Forest

Five hundred years ago, the people of Sarata went to Tambopata

to mine for gold. They went on foot, carrying their food and supplies

in by llama caravan. The journey made this way required ten days (see

Figure 1-2). The old foot paths are still followed by present-day

merchants who take horses and mules to the valley to sell, but this

older pattern has largely been replaced by more modern forms of trans-

port.

In the 1940s a road was built from the altiplano to the town

of Sandia, which is the capital of the province in which the Tambopata

valley lies (see Figure 1-3). Many people took trucks as far as Sandia,

then walked the three days more required to reach the small town of San

Juan del Oro, in the heart of the coffee region. At the present time

the road runs all the way to San Juan, but the area under cultivation

has expanded so greatly that many plots still lie more than a full day's

walk from the road.

The road is a mixed blessing. The journey by foot was long and

difficult and could not be made more than once or twice a year. The

journey by truck is easier, and people are able to travel back and forth




























































---- 10 km

oIeM 5000 meles

Figure 1-2. Sarata, the Eastern Cordillera of the Andes, and San Juan
del Oro

(After Berthelot 1978:949)




















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between the highlands and the valley more frequently, but the danger of

the journey is not decreased. The road is entirely of dirt, and once

it enters the valley it consists mostly of a strip wide enough for one

vehicle carved out of the side of a cliff. Its narrowness forces a

general agreement among truck drivers that certain days of the week will

be for traffic descending into the valley, while the rest are for traffic

which is leaving. With the exposed earth of the cliffs on one side of

the road, and the river gorge on the other, landslides are frequent in

the rainy season. At the most conservative estimate, 15 people from the

district of Sarata lost their lives traveling to and from the valley in

1980.

The people of Sarata own their lands in Tambopata. The Delega-

ci6n de Tierras de Montana("Delegation of Jungle Lands"), passed in 1946,

made it possible for potential "colonists" to claim small extensions of

land. After years of bureaucratic confusion, in which people had to

claim and reclaim and sometimes lost the same piece of land, the process

for obtaining land appears to have been stabilized. It is currently

controlled by the Ministry of Agriculture. The mean size of a producer's

plots in the valley is 3.5 hectares (Instituto Nacional de Planificaci6n

1979) although a few people have managed to gain access to ten hectares

or more.

Once land is obtained, it is cleared by slash and burn techniques.

The dense vegetation is cut down in June and July and burned after it is

dry, in August or September. Previously propagated seedlings are set

out in January or February and are replanted about three meters apart in











March. All of the coffee grown in the valley is a variety of mild

Arabica, similar to that grown in El Salvador.

Although none equal coffee in importance, other crops are also

grown in the valley and many of them are actually intercropped with the

coffee trees. Corn is often planted between coffee seedlings the

first year, to provide protection from the sun and rain. Plaintains

are also started among the coffee to provide shade once the trees are

larger. Yuca and taro, or papa japonesa (Colocasia esculenta) are grown

for personal consumption during periods of work in the valley, and rice

is being produced more frequently as cultivators move into lower areas

more suitable to its cultivation. Oranges, pineapples, tangerines,

lemons, papaya,and dozens of other fruits grow well and are often sold

to intermediaries for marketing outside the valley.

Approximately three to four years after planting, the coffee

trees produce their first cherries, and they are usually in full produc-

tion after the fifth year. The harvest takes place from April through

September since not all the cherries ripen at the same time. In the

early years of coffee production, techniques for removing the hull from

the bean were extremely rudimentary. Growers placed the coffee in a fast-

moving stream for as long as 15 days until the outer fruit was partially

decayed. This was then removed either by trampling with the feet or by

hand. This process often left the bean, as well as the hull, decayed,

a condition referred to a cafe abombeado. At the present time, nearly

all coffee growers own small machines with which to hull their harvest.

Most producers of coffee depend on a labor besides their own,

at least for the period of the harvest. They tend to rely on people who











are either related by kinship or are members of the same altiplano

community. Only if no one in either of these categories can be found

to help, will strangers be hired. Because of the small resident popula-

tion, workers must be convinced to travel from the altiplano. They are

provided with all their meals and a place to stay in the valley, in

addition to their daily wage, and are usually given a day off with pay

(pallaka) every five to six days.

Most of those who come to pick coffee as day laborers are younger

people. If conditions in the valley agree with them, they will often

claim a plot of their own. In this case, they can usually depend on

the friend or relative they are working for to help them clear and

plant their land, and they, in turn, will continue to help harvesting

that person's fields until their own trees are producing. This is the

most common way for new claims to be staked in the valley, and it is

but one example of how the labor exchange mechanisms of the altiplano

are relied on in the lowland environment.

From the time it was introduced in Tambopata until the late

1960s, coffee was marketed through private intermediaries. Producers

would carry the sacks of coffee on their backs from San Juan to Sandia

where it was sold. Whether they sold it to small-scale transporters or

to larger interests, it all eventually reached the hands of a few com-

panies in the altiplano commercial center of Juliaca, who bulked it and

sold it on the national or international market.

In the 1960s the Peruvian govenrment set up a network of coffee

cooperatives. These were designed to make technical assistance, inputs,











and credit more easily available to producers. They also become the

only legal mechanism for coffee marketing in the nation. There are

currently base-level cooperatives in the Tambopata Valley. Each inte-

grates several hundred producers, who tend to group together according to

the altiplano communities to which they belong. Base level cooperatives

are integrated into a regional organization known as CECOVASA (the

Central Office of the Cooperatives of the Valleys of Sandia), which is

located in Juliaca. The regional office bulks the coffee, grinds some

of it, and sends it to the national headquarters which finally places it

on the international market.

While the creation of the cooperatives effectively ended the

business of the large private sector traders, there are still opportuni-

ties for speculation by small-scale intermediaries. The cooperatives

have a practice of giving small down-payments to producers when coffee

is turned in, and then paying them the remainder when the trend of prices

on the world market is better known. This usually allows the cooperative

to pay higher prices than would be possible were they forced to make an

early estimate. It also allows speculators to buy coffee from culti-

vators who need cash early in the season, at prices considerably below

what the cooperative will pay later. They hold the coffee until the

price rises sufficiently, and then sell it to the cooperative them-

selves for the higher price.

The most salient characteristic of coffee production in Tambopata,

as practiced by the people of Sarata, is the way in which it is inte-

grated with subsistence activities on the altiplano. By careful











distribution of household labor, production is carried out in two

distinct and distant ecological zones. Fortunately, the coffee harvest,

which requires the heaviest investments of labor, takes place largely

during the dry season, when there is little agricultural work to be done

on the altiplano. The beginning of the coffee harvest in April and

May overlaps somewhat with the breaking open of fallow land and the

harvest in the highlands, however, and the end of the harvest and Sep-

tember weeding in the valley also coincide with the beginning of the

altiplano planting season. At these times, and during the December coffee

weeding, labor is shuffled back and forth between highlands and lowlands

as necessary.

This opportunistic movement of productive household members, is

in part made possible by the flexible sexual division of labor among the

Aymara of Sarata. Both men and women engage in all types of agricultural

activity and both men and women will migrate to the valley to carry out

production there when necessary. Since men are considered better at

plowing fallow land on the altiplano, they may work at this task while

women go to the valley to weed and begin the coffee harvest in April. The

women most often return to the altiplano by May, in order to begin the

potato harvest, since they are considered better at this activity.

Their husbands then travel to the valley to resume the coffee harvest.

There is one rule which is never violated in the distribution of

labor between the highlands and the lowlands: at least one adult house-

hold member must remain on the altiplano at all times. The subsistence

of the households of Sarata depends on their highland fields and their











livestock, and someone must always be there to care for the crops and

animals and the household complex. For this reason, although both men

and women migrate, they rarely do so together. Instead, they move back

and forth individually between the two zones, according to where their

presence is necessary.


Land Tenure, Energy Deficiency, and Seasonal Migration

Producing simultaneously in highland and lowland ecosystems,

and the constant movement of household members necessary to maintain it,

seems intuitively awkward to many outside observers. If one looks at

the productive activities of the Aymara of Sarata with western expecta-

tions of consolidated landholdings and fixed residence, they appear to be

a makeshift solution--a way to make ends meet until better alternatives

are available. Perhaps it is for this reason that most investigators

who have had occasion to deal with the migration to Tambopata, have

assumed that seasonal migration is a temporary stage in what will even-

tually become a permanent colonization movement.

The Puno-Tambopata project was a joint development effort of the

Peruvian government and the United Nations, carried out in the 1950s.

In addition to initiating development projects on the altiplano, it

attempted to improve the infrastructure of the Tambopata Valley in order

to stabilize the already existing settlement there and to attract new

migrants. Such efforts were based on a belief that once the health and

transport situation in the valley was improved, seasonal migrants would

begin to settle there permanently. Both Alfred Metraux (1956) and H6ctor











Martinez (1969), who worked in the zone in the 1940s and 1950s, also

expressed the view that people would eventually cease to return to the

altiplano and would take up permanent residence in the ceja de selva.

By the 1980s, such a transition to permanent settlement had not

occurred, at least not among the Aymara cultivators of Sarata. There

is, of course, a resident population in the valley, but it is made up

almost exclusively of shop owners and merchants from the Quechua-speaking

areas of Puno. Virtually no coffee-growers remain in the region year-

round.

In explaining the persistence of a seasonal migratory pattern,

two factors must be considered. The first is the perception of the high-

landers that there is no possibility of subsistence on the resources of

the valley alone. The food crops that can be grown there are seen as

limited, and it is recognized that they deplete the soil quickly. Work

in the coffee fields is by nature seasonal, and while it provides wel-

come cash with which to supplement altiplano subsistence, the amounts

received could never suffice to feed a family for a year.

Subsistence activities in the valley are not only viewed as

insufficient but as insecure. The money made from coffee is subject to

strong market fluctuations as well as to the control of the cooperatives.

The land claim process is seen as overly bureaucratic and arbitrary and

there is always a suspicion on the part of producers that their rights

to land could be suspended. All of these are factors outside the control

of the producers and they make the risk of trying to support a household


on valley activities seem far too high.











The second factor which helps explain why the people of Sarata do

not move permanently to the valley is that they have a tradition of

seasonal migration which stretches back hundreds of years. This seasonal

migration has most often been directed toward lowland areas where crops

were grown or trade was engaged in to supplement highland subsistence.

This is the same role that the income from coffee plays today.

Accounts which have insisted that the visits of saratenos to

Tambopata would eventually give way to permanent colonization have

ignored the time depth of the pattern of seasonal movement. They have

focused on current problems of the altiplano environment assuming that

the movement to Tambopata is a response to forces unleashed only in the

past few decades. Kuczynski-Godard (1945), Metraux (1956), Martinez (1969)

and the Instituto Nacional de Planificaci6n (1979) have all attributed

the migration to Tambopata to population pressure and parcelization of

land.

Landholdings on the altiplano, and in the district of Sarata in

particular, are indeed small. The average amount of cultivable land per

person is 0.5 hectares. Holdings are smaller on land near Lake Titicaca,

and larger as one moves further away from it. Since the land further

from the lake is less productive, more of it is needed to produce the

same amounts. However, none of the studies mentioned above actually

demonstrated that the small size of landholdings was related in any way

to the seasonal migration.

The present study hopes to show that while seasonal migratory

movements are related to deficiencies in the altiplano environment, they











are not necessarily related to a shortage of land. The deficiencies

referred to are energetic in nature, and are related to the particulari-

ties of the high-altitude environment. The problems of survival they

have created for the altiplano population are of long standing, and

seasonal migration is an important historical strategy for solving these

problems.

There are some households in Sarata whose landholdings are not

enough for all their children to inherit. In these cases, one or more

of the children may migrate, but in these cases, Tambopata is rarely

the destination. More often than not such migration will be directed

toward the coastal cities--Tacna, Ilo, Mollendo, or Lima--to Juliaca, the

local commercial center, or to La Paz, Bolivia.

It is extremely difficult to obtain accurate figures on such

migration, since in one case it is on a local level, in another it is

international and thus often illegal, and since in almost all cases

there are frequent trips made back to the home community. A survey con-

ducted by the Instituto Nacional de Planificaci6n in 1979 revealed that

44.7 percent of the population of the department of Puno had migrated

at least once in their lifetime. If this figure is accepted as a rough

estimate for the district of Sarata, and the 30 percent of the district's

population which migrates to Tambopata is subtracted, approximately 15

percent of the population appears to have migrated to these other areas

at least once.

For most altiplano households, labor is a scarce commodity.

The high rates of daily caloric expenditure presented in Chapter Three











attest to this fact, as does the vitality of mechanisms of labor exchange.

The accomplishment of critical agricultural tasks within the required

time span is a challenge faced by most families on a yearly basis.

Many households, if given more land outright, would find their ability

to work it hindered by the constraints imposed by the critical periods

for harvest, plowing, and planting.

The present work argues that the altiplano can be classified as

an energy-deficient region. This concept is defined and the data which

lead to such a conclusion are presented in Chapters Three and Four. To

call a region energy-deficient means that the reproduction of individuals

and the growth of the population is limited by the availability of energy.

On the altiplano, low temperatures, periodicity of rainfall, low avail-

ability of oxygen and carbon dioxide, poor soils, drought, hail, and

frost often reduce altiplano yields to a point where producers may barely

net an energetic return. When large crop losses occur several years in

a row, as they did in the drought of the 1950s, the balance between energy

expended and what is available to be consumed may shift to negative.

Given these circumstances, bringing more land under cultivation

would not be the most rational solution to the problems of altiplano

producers. Painter (1978) has described a range of activities in which

altiplano cultivators expend their labor during periods which are not

critical to agriculture. Such activities, of which seasonal migration is

the most important, have traditionally provided energy subsidies for

altiplano households. Historically, these subsidies have taken the form

of food or other goods produced or traded for at lower altitudes. At the











present time, while such goods remain important, a cash income from

the sale of coffee or the sale of one's labor has become a frequent goal.

The cash can then be transformed into additional food or clothing for

the household, improvements to the household complex, or into certain

types of consumer goods which are rapidly increasing in popularity in

the district of Sarata.

Geertz (1963), Boserup (1965), Bartlett (1976), and others have

discussed the way in which population increases in a region lead to

intensification of productive labor. Archaeological remains of agricul-

tural terracing are evidence for the long history of intensive agriculture

on the altiplano. The records of the Inca overlords encountered by Garci

Diez de San Miguel in Chucuito in 1567 (Murra 1964) showed the population

of that region to have been 170,000 before the Spanish Conquest (Sanchez-

Albornoz 1974:44). With the Conquest, a rate of depopulation of approxi-

mately two-thirds occurred on the altiplano. The Peruvian Census of

1972 shows that only today is the population of what was then Chucuito

approaching pre-Conquest levels. The ecological setting, the pre-

Conquest population, and the Conquest history of the district of Sarata

are similar in every respect to that of Chucuito, and there is no reason

to assume that the dynamics of its population change have been signifi-

cantly different. Given the limited production of the region, intensi-

fication of agriculture could not continue indefinitely when population

was at high levels. Vertical patterns of exploitation have historically

been necessary for survival in the region, and they continued even after

depopulation, when land was abundant.











Historical Contact with the Ceja de Selva

The Pre-Hispanic Roots

It has long been believed that the ceja de selva region of the

eastern Andes is, and has been, an uninhabited place. The soils of the

steeply sloped tropical rain forest were seen as too delicate to permit

more than a year or two of cultivation, prohibiting large settlements or

permanent occupation of any one region (Lanning 1967:197). The eastern

face of the Andes was considered to have been a natural barrier between

the aboriginal groups of the Tropical Forest and the high Andes.

Recent archaeological excavations have shown such assumptions

to be untrue. Large settlements, stone architecture and extensive

terracing have been found in association with highland ceramic traditions

in many parts of the ceja de selva below 1500 meters (Ryd6n 1952; Bonavia

1968; Lathrap 1970; Thompson 1968). Extensive systems of terraces and

large settlements at pre-Incaic sites in the Inambari Valley, near

Tambopata, provide evidence of heavy population pressure and intensive

agriculture as low as 800 meters (Isbell 1968). Lathrap (1970) has shown

that the lower ceja de selva was occupied by Tropical Forest groups from

1800 B.C. onward. Ethnographic and ethnohistorical work by Camino (1978)

and Gade (1972) has documented extensive contact and trade between

highland and lowland peoples, as has the discovery of Amazonian materials

in early highland archaeological sites (Wing 1972; Wassdn 1972).

Murra (1964) has called attention to the exploitation of Peruvian

coastal valleys by the Aymara-speaking Lupaqa kingdom of the altiplano

in the 15th and 16th centuries. The Lupaqa were based on the south side











of Lake Titicaca, near the present-day town of Chucuito. They relied

on corn, fruits, cotton, and other products from the Pacific coast, as

did other Aymara-speaking kingdoms of the altiplano, such as the Pacajes

(Murra 1972). The Lupaqa gained access to coastal products through

seasonal migration to trade, and through the placement of small colonies

in the region. Their large herds of animals gave them a means of trans-

port for the goods. Because of their many animals and access to a wide

range of products, the Indians of Chucuito became renowned for their

wealth. They became so famous, in fact, that during the first years of

the Conquest they were given a special status before the Spanish king and

were exempted from the encomienda--or allotment of Indian labor to a

Spanish "guardian."

The Lupaqa, as well as the other chiefdoms of the altip1lano,

also had access to land in the eastern Andean valleys. Saignes (1978) has

documented the presence of groups of Colla, Pacajes, and Lupaqa in the

fertile valleys of Carabaya, Ambana, and Larecaja in northern Bolivia and

southern Peru. As on the Pacific coast, the valleys were cultivated by

colonists, and the products, in this case mainly corn and coca, were

transported to the altiplano by llama caravan.

The eastern Andean valleys, like those of the coast, were char-

acterized by the multitude of ethnic groups which exploited them (Saignes

1978; Murra 1975). Their proximity, however, made them especially

important to the inhabitants of the northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca,

where the district of Sarata lies today. Friar Reginaldo de Lizarraga,

who passed along the northern lake shore in 1609, commented:











This province is heavily populated and for the most part
they are Puquinas; they are rich in camelids and they par-
ticipate [in the tribute system] with more corn and wheat
than those of the other part [the Lupaqa] because they have
at their left hand the province of Larecaja which abounds
in both these products. (1968:72)

The products of the valleys of Ambana and Larecaja are still of great

importance to the people of Sarata. The valleys are known collectively

to the inhabitants of the district as Wallisa, which in Aymara means "our

valleys." Although restrictions posed by the international border prevent

them from cultivating land there any longer, many families still travel

frequently to Wallisa to trade highland products for corn.

While ethnohistorical sources do not allow the exploitation of

lowland resources by peoples of the altiplano to be traced back further

than the Incaic period (see Figure 1-4) the research of Murra (1975) and

Saignes (1978) makes it clear that the colonies in the eastern valleys

were not mitmae sent by the Inca rulers. They were, on the contrary,

placed in the valleys and controlled by the regional powers of the

altiplano. This leaves open the question of the antiquity of such a

strategy, since it was not an importation of the Inca empire, but a

model native to the altiplano.

Recent archaeological work extends considerably the time frame

within which contact between the highlands and lowlands can be examined.

The Nino Korin finds, in the present-day department of La Paz, Bolivia,

provide evidence for early highland contact with the selva region. The

site, which lies only a day's walk from the district of Sarata, is clearly

from the Tihuanacoid period (approximately 600-1000 A.D.). A set of






















AD 2000

1950_


1900

1800.

1700

1600


t oriz n 1500-
Late Intermediate
Period 1000
Middle Horizon
- 500
Early Intermediate
Period
0
Early Horizon 1000
Initial Period


Preceramic


F- coffee

rubber
quinine
Peruvian Republic established



reduccion of Sarata established
.__-mines of PotosE opened/San Juan del Oro
established
-Spanish arrive
-onquest of altiplano by Inca Tupac Yupanqui
Altiplano Chiefdoms

Tihuanaco



- Pucara


3000 t

4000


5000 I Beginnings of plant & animal domestication


6000 1


Early hunters


Figure 1-4. Major eras in the history and prehistory of the northern
altiplano and the Tambopata Valley











plant products and associated implements were found, which appear to

have belonged to a native healer (Wassen 1972). Several of the plants

are not native to the altiplano and the closest possible environment

in which they could have been found is in the lower part of the

Bolivian yunqas. It appears likely that one plant specimen may have

been traded into the region from as far away as the eastern slopes of

the Ecuadorian Andes (Schultes 1972).

A Tihuanacoid settlement has also been discovered on the Apurimac

River, at the point where upstream canoe navigation becomes impossible.

Immediately below this highland settlement, a Tropical Forest Culture

site is found (Scott 1972). Lathrap (1973) suggests that such place-

ment of Tihuanacoid settlements is not uncommon. It seems likely

from these sites that the altiplano-based Tihuanaco empire engaged in

active trade relationships with lowland peoples. Lathrap (1970) and

Lanning (1967) both give examples of even earlier interchanges between

highland and lowland cultures, but there has not yet been sufficient

archaeological research in the eastern Andes to speculate on the nature

or intensity of such interchanges.

Lumbreras (1974) has suggested that the effective use of

strategies of vertical exploitation, rather than conquest, many have

been responsible for the Tihuanacoid expansion. In the specific case

of the altiplano, the exploitation of lowland regions can first be

documented in conjunction with Tihuanacoid materials. In other parts of

the world the expansion and consolidation of complex, state-level

societies are associated with the intensification of agriculture. It











seems likely that on the altiplano it was linked to large-scale strate-

gies of vertical exploitation.

For the chiefdoms which controlled the altiplano from the fall

of Tihuanaco to the time of the Inca conquest, the lowlands provided a

wealth of useful items: cotton, fruits, corn, peppers, spices, and

medicinal herbs,to name but a few. Under the Inca, for the first time,

gold began to be exploited in large quantities. The mines and rivers of

the Tambopata Valley were rich beyond imagination in this mineral. In

fact, the mines of Carabaya (as the Spanish designated the selva of Puno)

were known as "the most opulent of all of America" by the 17th century

(Bueno 1951; Maurtua 1906:1).


The Search for Gold and the Escape from Forced Labor

Under Inca domination, the large sites of gold excavation in

Carabaya were the property of the Inca himself and were worked by mitmae.

Gold which could be panned from the rivers and streams was designated as

property of the communities of the northeastern lake-shore, or more

properly speaking, of the communal authorities (Berthelot 1978). During

Inca rule, the people of Sarata panned for gold in the valley nearly

three months of every year, during "the time when their absence would

not be felt in the fields" (Jim6nez de la Espada 1965:69).

The earliest Spanish encomenderos in the region, Felipe Guti6rrez,

Francisco de Carvajal,and a Capitan Soto, saw this as a custom worthy of

continuation. They laid claim to the large excavations of gold, as

well as to that panned from the rivers. They relied on the altiplano











communities to provide the knowledge of the area, the techniques, and

the labor for the mining of the latter (Jimenez de la Espada 1965:69).

After the discovery of silver at Potosi in 1545, the labor of

saratenos was diverted to that enormous mining enterprise. The Spanish

did not neglect the gold of the valleys, however. The town of San Juan

del Oro was founded on the Tambopata River around 1547, probably by

fugitive Spaniards of the parties of Pizarro and Almagro (Raimondi

1883). Cieza de Leon noted in his chronicle of 1553 that the town of

San Juan had by that time sent out "more than 1,700,000 gold pesos."

One famous nugget which was shaped like a horse's head and weighed more

than 100 pounds won the title of "Villa Imperial" for San Juan (Bueno

1951). Catholic missions were also established in the valley by the

time of the expeditions of Juan Alvarez de Maldonado in the 1560s

(Maurtua 1906:11, 134), although the difficult terrain kept their activ-

ity to a minimum for many years.

Another valuable lowland commodity produced by altiplano dwellers

under the Inca, if not earlier, was coca. Like the mining of gold,

the cultivation of coca was encouraged and perhaps expanded by the

Spaniards. Particularly after the opening of the mines at Potosi, coca

for the workers was considered essential and inhabitants of the north-

eastern lake shore were sent to work in the coca fields of the Bolivian

yungas.

Thierry Saignes has said, "after the Conquest, the Spanish tried

to impose a radically foreign spatial arrangement: in fixing the

Indians in their places of residence, they awoke the contradictions











whose stage was set under Inca policy" (1978:1168). It is true that

the Spanish had a concept of fixed residence, and that they tried to

impose this concept on the native population of the Americas. The

grouping of Indians into reducciones under Viceroy Toledo was but one

example of such policy. Despite their best administrative efforts, the

Spanish were never able to achieve the kinds of stable settlement

patterns which they had hoped would facilitate the execution of their

policies.

The incessant movement of the highland population of Peru and

Bolivia to avoid tribute and the mit'a (forced labor) has been docu-

mented by Sanchez-Albornoz (1974). He estimates that as much as 60 per-

cent of highland inhabitants may have been living outside their home

communities throughout most of the 17th century. A document which he

published dealing with the labor shortage which this situation was

causing for the mines of Potosi, in 1690, includes a reference to the

district of Sarata. In it, the captain of the town of Sarata testified

that the governor of the district was robbing the people of their lands

and that "for this reason the Indians have fled to different provinces

and the mit'a arrives so diminished in size" (Sanchez-Albornoz 1978:139).

Kubler has also commented on the movements of the forasteros, as

the mobile population was called. He noted that when the censused

Peruvian tribute population of 1628 was compared with that for 1754,

only 11 provinces gained in population. Three of these were the urban

centers of Lima, Cuzco,and Cajamarca. Seven of the remaining eight were

situated along the eastern Andean frontier. Kubler suggests that this











was a result of "eastward flight . to new settlements in the

uncharted montana," by people avoiding the mit'a and tribute payments

(1944:337).

Ulloa, in discussing the history of the southern Peruvian selva,

puts the matter plainly:

When the Spanish dominated Peru, it is probable, even
certain, that in the provinces of Cuzco and the Collao
there took place a strong out-migration toward these
[selva] regions. It is known that the Spanish authorities,
when they undertook the so-called reducci6n of tributable
Indians, complained of the disappearance of immense
numbers of them: some declared explicitly that the In-
dians took refuge and lodged themselves among the heathen
chunchus and others. (1899:19)

This strategy of retreating to the selva in times of adversity

is one which has continued to the present day. Large numbers of high-

landers fled to the selva after all of the major Indian revolts on the

altiplano in order to avoid the subsequent repression. The last of these

revolts took place in the second decade of this century. The physician

Kuczynski-Godard, who visited the Tambopata Valley in the 1930s, commented

that the majority of its population was composed of refugees from the

1922-23 Indian uprising of the northern altiplano (1945:70). It would

seem unlikely that a strategy of taking refuge in the selva would be

practiced by people who had no experience in the region.


Missions, Quinine, and Rubber

Spanish missionization of the Tambopata Valley became more

active under the Bishop of Cuzco in the 1670s. The town of San Juan

del Oro had been destroyed in 1650, either by an earthquake or an

Indian invasion (Raimondi 1883) but had been reestablished by the











1670s, and other towns were built as well. Most of the Indians who were

missionized were of a group called the Toromona, who were slash-and-

burn agriculturalists and appear to have spoken a language of the

Tacana family (Maurtua 1906:11; Steward 1963).

The evangelization of the valley was considered a burden by the

earliest clerics. A group from La Paz had entered the region in the

1600s only to give up their efforts. The valley was too narrow either

for animals or agriculture, they said, and trips to bring in supplies

were difficult and dangerous. They redirected their efforts toward the

Larecaja Valley of present-day Bolivia where living conditions were

better.

Only with the discovery of quinine in the early 19th century did

missionization in Tambopata become intense. During this epoch a fierce

rivalry over mission rights sprang up between clerical groups of La Paz

and Cuzco. By 1806, Cuzco had given responsibility for the zone to

a missionary school in Moquegua, who were provided with instructions

and funds for the establishment or reducciones. Around this time, the

La Paz fathers reentered the valley, claiming that they had made first

contact with the Indians and therefore had the right to reduce them.

The dispute was brought to an abrupt end, however, when, as a result of

preliminary efforts to institute the new settlement pattern, the last

of the contacted Toromona succumbed to a wave of disease.

By the mid-18th century there were 29 Spanish settlements in

the Carabaya region. Large coca plantations had been established along

the Inambari River and gold mining and panning continued on a small











scale. In Larecaja and other valleys of the Bolivian yungas, people

from Sarata continued to cultivate land and exchange products, or to

work as laborers on the coca haciendas (Martfnez 1969).

The early 19th century, as noted, brought quinine exploitation

to the valleys of the eastern Andes. While the curative properties of

cascarilla (Cinchona mecrantha, Calisaya febrifuga, and Cinchona bolivi-

ana) for malaria had long been known to Europeans, confusion over the

exact identity of the bark had prevented its widespread use. Only when

the European colonial expansion into Africa in the 19th century created

an urgent need for an anti-malarial drug, were the scientific problems

resolved, and was widespread gathering of Cinchona for quinine begun in

the jungles of Latin America (McNeill 1976).

By the 1840s quinine had become one of Peru's most vital exports.

The population of the altiplano participated in the gathering of casca-

rilla. The most active participants were from Quecha-speaking areas

around Pucara. While many of the Quechuas entered as independent collec-

tors or to establish tambos or trading posts, the Aymara of Sarata had

less voice in their entrance into the trade. After a regional uprising

in the 1860s against the reinstitution of personal tribute, large

numbers of saratenos were "deported" to the valleys of Carabaya (VAsquez

1976). While the deportation was nominally punitive in nature, it also

served to provide labor for the extraction of Cinchona bark.

Previous experience in the lowlands had made altiplano dwellers

aware of, but not immune to, lowland diseases and dangers. They knew

that in the rain forest environment the risks of malaria, uta












(leishmoniasis), respiratory disease and skin and intestinal ailments

were great. They also feared poisonous snakes and the wild animals

which at that time were still numerous in the valley. CIPCA (1976:25)

has suggested that during early colonizations of the Bolivian yungas

by altiplano peoples, colonizing households may have rotated frequently

to avoid these types of health problems.

In the oral history of the people of Sarata there are references

to the dangers encountered in the gathering of Cinchona bark. In

particular, the era of exploitation of quinine was known as "the time

when 'tigers' learned to eat people." Because the gatherers had to be

constantly climbing the steep slopes of the valley, many lost their

lives by plunging to the bottom of ravines. It is said that when

the "tigers" (probably jaguars) came upon these dead bodies and devoured

them, they acquired the taste for human flesh which causes them to hunt

human beings today.

The exploitation of quinine came to an end in the 1870s when

the wild Cinchona of the Peruvian selva became unable to compete with

the plantation-grown product of Java and Ceylon. Incense and copal,

which had been gathered in conjunction with quinine, also declined with

it. The valley returned to a pattern of small-scale gold exploitation,

which was now largely in the control of foreign interests.

By the turn of the century, rubber exploitation had replaced

quinine. The rubber of the eastern Andean valleys was of poor quality.

Exploitation in the valleys of Carabaya was confined to wild plants.

Rubber gathering was conceived of as a one-time, all-or-nothing enterprise,











and the rubber was not removed from the trees carefully. Most trees

were destroyed in the process (Martinez 1969).

The rubber industry in southern Peru was largely in the hands

of North American companies such as Inca Rubber, Tambopata Rubber, and

Compania Forga. They recruited labor through local political officials.

The officials would bring together groups of young men, by persuasion

or by force, who were taken down to work in the valley. Although their

labor was contracted for a certain period of time at a certain price,

a person entering the valley in this fashion could be held in virtual

slavery. Once the agreed-upon period of labor was completed, it was

claimed that contractors would refuse to pay the workers. This meant

that they had no way of provisioning themselves for the return trip and

consequently could not leave the valley (Martinez 1969:419). Peruvian

rubber, like Peruvian quinine, quickly became anti-economical in the

face of new market developments, and even if it had not, the techniques

of exploitation applied to it in the Tambopata Valley made it a non-

renewable resource.


The Twentieth Century

The 1920s were a period of violence and unrest on the northern

altiplano. A drop in wool prices and subsequent attempts at expansion

by haciendas in the region disposessed smallholders of significant

portions of their lands (Orlove 1976). At the same time, social changes

were being instigated by groups such as the North American Adventist

Church and the Lima-based Society for the Protection of Indian Rights.

These changes, which consisted mainly of the construction of schools











for the indigenous population, were actively opposed by local elites

who feared that the Indians might cease providing them with the labor

services and rent they were accustomed to receiving. This fear carried

some elite groups so far as to burn several of the newly constructed

Indian schools, an act which led to open defiance on the part of the

Indians and eventually to violence on the part of the elites.

Indians retaliated for the burning of the schools by marching

on the towns, where most of the elite families in question resided.

While no acts of violence were reported on the part of the indigenous

population, the "pacificatory" raids conducted by elite families were

a documented series of atrocities. As in the rebellion of Juan Busta-

mente in the 1860s, many hundreds of Indians were killed, their homes

burned, and their animals confiscated. There were public tortures and

executions in the plazas of all the towns on the northeastern side of

the lake and mass graves today mark the sites of the slaughter (Hazen

1974; Gallegos 1972; Luque 1977). Flight to the selva was virtually the

only way saratenos had to flee such repression. It is for this reason

that in 1937, Kuczynski-Godard found the majority of the population of

Tambopata to be refugees from the aftermath of the 1923 uprising.

There was another group of people seeking refuge in the Tambo-

pata Valley in the 1930s. These were families from the Bolivian and

Peruvian altiplano who had been cultivating land in the Bolivian valleys.

In order to avoid conscription for the Chaco War, they left their lands

there and moved into Tambopata. It was with these settlers that the

first coffee, and the techniques for its cultivation, were introduced

into the region.











Throughout the 1940s the production of coffee was scattered and

quite small in scale. It attracted the attention of government officials,

however, and an Office of Indian Migration was opened in 1944. By the

mid-1940s, the Puno-Tambopata Project was begun as a program of the

Peruvian Indianist Institute. Its stated goals were to increase the

production and income of the Department of Puno, provide an alternative

to rural-urban migration, and to increase sovereignty over a relatively

uninhabited area. It was also suggested that migration might serve to

defuse the potentially explosive situation which had been left by the

repression of the 1923 uprising (Hazen 1974:308-9).

In 1946 a law was passed (Ley 1220, La Delegaci6n de Tierras de

Montana) which allowed highlanders to legally claim land in the valley

and by the 1950s several development efforts made the trip to Tambopata

easier. A road was constructed as far as Sandia, using government and

United Nations funds and voluntary local labor. The Puno-Tambopata

project began construction of health facilities and other services in

the valley (Martinez 1969). These efforts facilitated migration to

Tambopata and increased the number of highlanders who participated.

They acted on behalf of a movement which had, however, already been

initiated and whose direction and seasonality had been determined by

local needs.

A further factor which gave impulse to the migration of the

1950s was the agrarian reform of the Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario

in Bolivia. Peruvians who were cultivating, either permanently or

seasonally in the Bolivian yungas, could not receive allocations in the











new government's land reform. While a few families chose to remain

in the yungas, assume Bolivian citizenship, and continue cultivating,

most returned to Peru and many of those took up the production of

coffee in the Tambopata Valley.

More than any other factor, the Agrarian Reform in Bolivia

served to cut off the people of Sarata from their traditional lands in

the valleys of Ambana and Larecaja and other parts of the yungas. What

the reducciones, taxation, the creation of corregimientos, the institu-

tion of an international boundary, and countless other measures had not

accomplished, this did. The relationship of the people of Sarata with

the Bolivian valleys became limited to commercial ties--the interchange

of products of their respective homes. While trading trips to the

valleys to obtain corn are still an important activity in most of the

district of Sarata, the trip to the yungas is considered by most people

to be too long and burdensome. The increasing availability of corn

from Cuzco in the local market makes purchase of this item an attractive

alternative to a six-day walk. Many present-day saratenos have relatives

who stayed in the Bolivian yungas in 1952, most of whom they have not

seen in more than twenty years.

A final stimulus to the migration to grow coffee in Tambopata

was the severe drought which dried up the altiplano year after year toward

the end of the 1950s. By far the majority of people from Sarata who

migrate to Tambopata had their first contact with the zone, either on

their own or through a family member, during this period. The stories

which are told about this time reflect the horror of families facing












starvation. Food supplies stored for many years were used up. There

was no seed to plant and no food to feed the workers to open up the

land. By the time the drought ended in 1960, virtually every household

in the area had been forced to find some way to supplement their

decimated production, and the cultivation of coffee in the Tambopata

Valley had been taken up by many families.


The Altiplano Setting

The political environment. The district of Sarata lies in the

province of Huancane in the department of Puno in southern Peru. The

district is bordered on the east by the department of La Paz, Bolivia,

and on the south by Lake Titicaca. To the north, it approaches the

eastern range of the Andes and to the west lie the major cities of the

region.

Huancan6, the provincial capital lies 50 kilometers or about a

two-hour truck ride away. For the people of Sarata it serves mainly as

a legal and administrative center. The town abounds with lawyers, judges,

justices of the peace, notaries and scribes, who in the past made a good

living off the problems and legal disputes of an often illiterate peasant-

ry. With the legalization of Indian schools in the 1920s, the level of

literacy among the population grew rapidly, as did their understanding

of legal and administrative matters. Currently the people of Sarata

will bypass Huancan6 whenever possible to seek legal services in Juliaca,

or Puno, where judges and lawyers are felt to be better trained and less

dependent upon the exploitation of the rural population.











Juliaca, the regional center of commerce and transport, lies

50 kilometers beyond Huancan6. It is a three-hour truck ride from

Sarata in the dry season, but may take as long as six hours in the

rainy season, when roads are in bad condition. Juliaca has only achieved

regional importance in recent years. The town's process of growth

began with the construction of the Southern Peruvian Railroad's Arequipa

to Puno line in the late 19th century. What had been a tiny hamlet of

500 people in 1876 (Appleby 1980) was a booming commercial center of

nearly 120,000 people in 1980 (Caretas 1980a).

Trucks leave Sarata for Juliaca at 2:00 every morning. They

arrive around sunrise at which time the passengers begin transacting

business, and they are ready to start the return trip to Sarata by

10:00 a.m. The largest number of people make the trip on Monday, which

is the day when the major market is held in Juliaca. Saratenos may buy

such things as analine dye, rubber sandals, or hardware, either for

their own use or to sell at smaller markets in the town of Sarata or in

one of its communities. They may sell products of Bolivian origin or

occasionally cheeses, eggs, or beans.

Juliaca is a center of transport as well as of commerce. This

is of no small importance considering the wide variety of places to

which saratenos find it necessary to travel. Tambopata and the valleys

of Bolivia are the most frequently visited regions, but some sarate6os

travel to Lima, where they form a large percentage of the membership of

the street cleaners' union. Others travel for purposes of trade or

employment to Cuzco, Arequipa, Moquegua, or La Paz. They may travel to











work temporarily in the small mines of Puno or to the larger ones at

Toquepala in Tacna. They travel to work in the fishing industry in

places such as Ilo or Mollendo; to engage in commerce in Sicuani, Lampa,

Ayacucho, Huancayo, Abancay, and Iquitos; to trade in the coastal valleys

or Arequipa and Moquegua and of the ceja de selva of Cuzco; and to mine

for gold in Puerto Maldonado. The more adventurous people, who have made

money in transport or other business interests, are not strangers to

cities such as Santa Cruz, Bolivia; Buenos Aires in Argentina; or Sao

Paulo in Brazil. Virtually without exception the journeys made by

saratenos to these places are temporary--for the purpose of earning cash,

of trade or for some other type of business venture. Thus, the access

to larger networks of transportation provided by Juliaca is of great

importance. While train, bus, and air facilities are available, the

most popular means of transport are the literally hundreds of trucks

which enter and leave the Juliaca markets every day.

Juliaca's rapid growth and booming commerce caused Puno, the

departmental capital, to be overshadowed, at least in the eyes of

saratenos. Despite the fact that Puno lies only 40 kilometers beyond

Juliaca, and that the paved road connecting the two cities makes the

journey between them require less than an hour, people from Sarata

rarely have a reason to go there. With the exception of the highest

departmental officials, and the regional university, there is nothing in

Puno, in their perception, which cannot be acquired more easily and at

less cost in Juliaca.

This has not always been the case, for in the early part of

this century, steam transport linked the harbor of Puno with that of











Sarata and other small ports around the lake. Juliaca, lying inland,

was not a part of this transport network. A new road, constructed in

the 1940s, linked Juliaca with Sarata and the Bolivian border, at the

same time that steamship transport was ending. This effectively broke

the district's ties with Puno and there has been no reason since then

to reestablish them.

Political divisions within the district of Sarata are quite

complex. This is partly the result of political structures imposed at

different times by different governments, all of which have left their

mark on the system which exists today. The district of Sarata is divided

into 12 ayllu. As a pre-Hispanic unit of social structure the ayllu

remains in many ways a mystery. Based on analogy with present-day

use of the term, Isbell (1978) has defined it as a unit within which

certain bonds of kinship are recognized. Early Spanish documents suggest

that it may also have had political functions (Soldi 1978). Zuidema

(1977) has suggested that the term ayllu may have simply signified "a

group with a boundary" and may have been applied to social and political

groups of varying sizes and types.

The district of Sarata, like most of the rest of the Andes, pos-

sessed a bipartite division as well, with six of its ay11u falling into

each saya or part. The parts were called K"upisaya and Ch'iqasaya, or

part of the left and part of the right. Although both halves of the

district include diverse climatic and geographic subregions, saratenos

characterize K"upisaya as the zone of rich agricultural production and


Ch'iqasaya as the zone of animal wealth.











Within a few years of the Spanish Conquest, the ayllu system

had been adopted as an administrative tool. Despite the fact that many

ay11u had access to land that ran, discontinuously, from the lake shore

to the high altitudes near the eastern Andean range, people were known by

their ayllu membership. What ay11u a person belonged to was significant,

in other words, even though it told one little or nothing about where

they resided.

Only in the present century did ayllu begin to split apart, with

their component settlements establishing themselves as communities or

parcialidades. The most common motive for such action was to establish

each settlement as an independent unit in order that it might receive

its own school. The separation of an ayllu into communities was a

formal, legal process, involving a chartering of the new units and their

investment with the right to representation in the district government

by a teniente governador (lieutenant governor).

A few communities applied for formal recognition by the national

government's Office of Indigenous Affairs (prior to 1969) or through the

various organisms which handled that procedure under Peru's military

government (1968-1980). The benefits associated with recognized status

have varied throughout this century, from legal protection of land, to

technical assistance with development projects, but in no cases did the

recognized communities of Sarata receive any of these benefits.

The splitting apart of the ay11u has led to a binomial naming

system for communities and parcialidades. The ayllu name is retained,

but the unit is given an additional characterization to distinguish it











from the other subunits within the ayllu. For example, a community

formed out of the ay11u Q'arapata might become known as Wara Q'arapata--

"dry O'arapata"--becauseof its lack of irrigation or access to water.

Janq'u Sikta--"white Sikta"--might refer to a part of an ayllu called

Sikta which is characterized by the salt flats within its boundaries.

The internal structure of the communities varies depending

on whether or not they have been officially recognized by the national

government. All communities have an appointed teniente, who acts as an

intermediary between the community and the district governor. Non-

recognized communities also have a president and other elected officials

who take care of community finances, organize work projects, see that

schools and other community buildings are maintained, etc. Recognized

communities have a Council of Administration (consejo de administraci6n)

and Council of Vigilance (consejo de vigilancia) whose officers carry out

functions similar to those of the president, vice-president, etc. of

non-recognized communities.

Under a law passed by the military government of 1968-1980, recog-

nized communities must set aside some portion of their land to be worked

in common for the benefit of the entire community. In Sarata, this

land is often used to cultivate supplemental food crops for the schools.

Members of recognized communities are also prohibited by law from owning

land or working outside the community. This rule, if enforced, would

not only prevent the diversification of landholdings as a protection

against localized frost and hail; it would prevent temporary migration

to the urban centers to seek work and it would deny the saratenos access











to their lands in the Tambopata Valley. Fortunately, to date there has

been no effort made to enforce this rule, although theoretically, if a

community from Sarata were to apply for any type of government benefit,

it would be necessary to show that they were in compliance with this law.

The twelve ayllus and 38 parcialidades or communities are not the

only political units in the district of Sarata. In the mid-18th century

a series of small haciendas were carved out of the eastern part of the

district. These were mainly herding enterprises, and they relied more

heavily on sheep and cattle than native camelids. Under the agrarian

reform of 1969-75, the haciendas were expropriated and restructured into

a SAIS (Sociedad Agqrcola de Inter6s Social or Agricultural Social Inter-

est Society).

As officially defined, the SAIS was to be cooperatively run by

hacienda workers and members of surrounding communities. In terms of its

actual operations, the communities never participated in the SAIS, either

in the formal decision-making body or as a part of its labor supply. The

enterprise suffered such severe financial problems from its outset that

even the former hacienda workers who were its labor force had to forego

wages during the second and third years of its operation (Juan Lira

Condori, personal communication). The SAIS is currently completely

dependent on loans from the Peruvian government for its survival. Accord-

ing to statements made in 1980 by the Minister of Agriculture of Peru's

new civilian government, collective enterprises which are not making a

profit will be reorganized again in the near future. It is not yet

clear, however, what a new reorganization will entail (Caretas 1980b).











The final political unit within the district is the town of

Sarata itself. The town, which is the district capital, has about 2000

residents, or approximately 10 percent of the population of the district.

As a political unit, the town, like the communities, has a teniente

gobernador. It also has a mayor and a town council which administer its

affairs. Fifty years ago, the town was the home of the regional mestizo

elite, who spoke both Aymara and Spanish and had ties both to people in

the communities and elite families at the departmental level. Until

recently this group controlled much of the commerce of the region, but

events of the past fifty years have changed this situation. Declining

opportunities in wool and agriculture forced the elites to the cities.

The young people of elite families left to receive an education and

never returned. The agrarian reform, or fear ot it, was the final factor

which loosed this group's control over the resources of the countryside.

At the same time the elites were leaving, the rural population was

taking advantage of new opportunities. People from rural communities

began to acquire capital from international commerce, and to gain

control of the district's transport facilities. When elite families

moved out of town and put their houses up for sale, people from rural

communities bought them. Having a house in town made it easier for

one's children to attend the district high school. Also since all

transport out of the district leaves at night, it made travel and commerce

more convenient.

The process of the old elite vacating the town and new entre-

preneurial sectors from the communities moving in is not unique to













Sarata. It appears to be occurring in district capitals all around

Lake Titicaca (Father Domingo Llanque, personal communication). In many

ways, this movement is responsible for a revitalization of the towns.

The new inhabitants see them as their home and do not have the goal of

finding a position in the departmental capital and moving out as did so

many of the elite. They are thus more concerned about the town's main-

tenance and the initiation of improvement projects. In 1980, the town

of Sarata had a hydroelectric plant, which produced electricity from 6 to

10 p.m., running potable water from a local spring, and well-equipped

health post. A sewage system was in the process of being installed.

Social stratification. The discussion of the town as a political

unit, inevitably leads to the topic of social class. The town-

countryside dichotomy has traditionally been the most important social

division in the district of Sarata (Painter 1981). Indigenous uprisings

have been frequent in the region from the 18th century to the 20th, and

these have invariably taken the form of the countryside marching on

the town with grievances and the townspeople retaliating with torture,

mass executions, and pillaging. This pattern began with the Tupac Amaru/

Tupac Katari uprisings of the 18th century, was continued with the cam-

paign of Juan Bustamente in the 1870s and repeated again in the Tawantin-

suyu movement of the 1920s.

At the heart of these events lay the determination of a mestizo

town elite (misti) to maintain control of production in a region, where

they owned very little of the land. To do so, the elite attempted to












engage the people of the countryside in patron-client relationships of

a fiercely possessive type. They demanded extreme expressions of sub-

servience and attempted to monopolize the Spanish language and the

educational system to their advantage (Painter 1981).

Town-countryside tensions have been reduced in recent years due

to the out-migration of the local elite. Control of commerce and vital

local services has given new economic power to former rural producers,

and members of the elite who have remained in Sarata have seen their

power diminish. Thus, while there is still a perception of a dichotomy

between the rural and urban populations, the economic basis of this

dichotomy is in the process of breaking down.

Language and ethnicity. The people of Sarata speak Aymara,

an indigenous language of Peru, Bolivia, and Chile which belongs to the

Jaqi language family (Hardman 1966). Everyone in the district, with

the exception of a few policemen assigned there temporarily, speaks

Aymara regardless of their social class, residence, or economic situa-

tion. Approximately half of the district's population speak Spanish to

some degree, with the greatest number of speakers under the age of thirty.

While Aymara is the language of the home, of the community, and of the

regional marketplace, Spanish must be learned in order to have access to

most written materials, to attend to bureaucratic or legal matters and

for one's travels to other parts of the country. For commercialists,

some knowledge of Cuzco Quechua is also important, in order to do

business in the town of Juliaca, which lies in a Quechua-speaking region.











The linguistic situation of Sarata has historically been complex.

The northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca was primarily Puquina-speaking

in the early days of the Spanish Conquest (Lizarraga 1968; Espinosa

Soriano 1980). The first Spanish priest to permanently reside in Sarata

learned both Aymara and Puquina in the course of carrying out his duties

(Salazar Aguilar and Cuentas Collado 1965). It is not known, however,

who within the region spoke Aymara and Puquina, nor to what degree bi-

lingualism in the two languages existed.

The imposition of Inca rule on the northern altiplano, in the late

15th century, introduced even greater linguistic and ethnic diversity.

Because the region had resisted Inca domination for so long, not only a

colony of Inca administrators was established, but Huanca mitmae from

central Peru were brought to the region for the purpose of maintaining

control (Toledo 1975). Inhabitants of the Sarata region were also

exposed to many languages in their travels to other places and their

exploitation of lowland ecosystems.

The linguistic and ethnic diversity of the past are illustrated

in an important ceremony which takes place in Sarata in association with

the fiesta of the Virgin of Candelaria in February. In this ceremony,

which is called Qurawasiri--"the sling-shot duelers"--four groups bring

special offerings to the district governor and then participate in a

ritual slingshot duel which predicts their fortunes in the year to come.

The groups which participate represent the Uru, from the lake shore

region where the tasa de Toledo (1975) recorded Uru living in 1573; the

Qulla, from the western part of the district near the heart of the











pre-Incaic Qulla chiefdom; the Inca, from certain lake shore communities;

and the Kullawaya, from the herding zone in the northeastern part of

the district near the home of the present-day Kullawaya healers (see

Bastien 1973; Stark 1972).

While it is known that the Inca administrators spoke Quechua,

and that the Qulla were Aymara-speaking, the languages which were asso-

ciated with the Kullawaya and Uru have not been well established. Either

one or both could have been speakers of Puquina, but whether they were

or not is by no means clear. What is clear, however, is that there were

at least four well-defined ethnic groups inhabiting what is today the

district of Sarata at or around the time of the Spanish Conquest, and

that present-day saratenos are aware of these past ethnic divisions.

The actual participants in the slingshot dual (which is carried

out with peaches rather than stones) are said to have genealogies which

go back several hundred years and which link them to the groups in

question. Because their responsibilities are genealogically determined,

everyone in the district agrees that this is the one ritual office which

cannot be avoided. In 1980, some of the people whose participation was

necessary had converted to Seventh Day Adventism, and did not wish to

comply. Enormous pressure was placed on them by others in their commun-

ities to insure that the ceremony would be carried out as usual.
















CHAPTER TWO
SEASONAL MIGRATION AND HUMAN ADAPTATION:
THEORETICAL ISSUES


Human Adaptation

Introduction

An adaptation is, in the broadest sense of the word, a biologi-

cal or behavioral adjustment that serves to benefit the survival or

reproduction of an organism or population in a given environment (Little

and Morren 1976:2). The process by which such an adjustment occurs, in

most cases, is also known as adaptation. Such a broad definition encom-

passes the diverse types of adaptation studied by geneticists, physiolo-

gists, demographers, ecologists, and anthropologists. It emphasizes the

interaction of organism and environment which all adaptive processes

share.

While many types of adjustments may prove to be adaptive in a

given setting, they do not all operate by the same mechanisms. In fact,

there are three basic levels on which adaptation can occur in human

populations. Genetic or evolutionary adaptation is a process by which

the genetic material of a population or group is altered cross-

generationally. This is very different from acclimatization, which

refers to physiological and developmental changes which affect individuals

and occur within a single lifetime. Cultural and behavioral adaptive

mechanisms are extra-somatic--they are not, in other words, properties of











human anatomy and physiology. They reflect the use of the capacity for

culture which has evolved in human beings to solve the biological prob-

lems of survival in a given environment. Although they are distinct,

these forms of adaptation are not mutually exclusive. Rather, it has

been hypothesized that they act in conjunction with one another to pro-

vide maximum adaptedness for an organism (Slobodkin 1968).


Genetic and Physiological Adaptation

Natural selection. The form of adaptation which most commonly

comes to mind when the concept is mentioned is genetic change. Genetic

adaptation operates through the process of natural selection. The basis

of natural selection is that individuals with different genetic consti-

tutions have different chances for reproduction. Those individuals whose

genetic makeup is best suited to a given environment have more offspring

and pass on more of their genetic material. Unless sudden changes in the

environment occur, a population can be expected to become more and more

adapted, or suited to its environment, over time.

Natural selection is not, however, a creative force. It can

only operate opportunistically on the existing variation in genetic

material within a population. It cannot create favorable traits which

do not exist. A pest, for example, does not become resistant to a

pesticide simply by virtue of prolonged exposure. A trait which confers

resistance must be pre-existent in the population before it can be the

object of selection. The existence of variation, the selection of

favorable variants, and the maintenance of these variants are the neces-

sary elements of evolutionary process.











Furthermore, while the changes brought about by natural selection

are favorable with relation to the environment in which they occur,

they are not flexible. A change in environment can, at times, render

them useless or even harmful. Among American blacks, for example, the

sickle-shaped hemoglobin cell which in Africa conferred resistance

against malaria when heterozygotic,and caused death when homozygotic,

lost its adaptive advantage in a malaria-free environment. It can take

many generations to compensate for an evolutionary trend that an environ-

mental change has rendered maladaptive.

The inflexibility and long-term nature of genetically based

adaptation is overcome at least in part in human beings by the capacity

for short-term changes. Physiological and developmental adjustments are

one such mechanism relied on by humans and other organisms to allow

quick and often reversible adaptations to stressful environmental

situations. Culture and mental processes provide an additional means

of adaptation for humans, which is quickly mobilized and more flexible

than genetic change. The capacity for culture has given humans what

L. B. Slobodkin has called "an extremely high behavioral flexibility, in

which the flexibility itself is a genetic property." Slobodkin goes on

to say that "if flexibility is sufficiently high, it becomes almost

impossible for gene frequencies to be materially altered by specific

environmental pressures unless these are of extremely long duration and

extremely great force" (1976:58).

A stressful situation is one which produces a deviation from
homeostasis in an organism. Homeostasis is the maintenance of constant
internal conditions in the face of a varying environment.











The circumvention of natural selection by increased behavioral

flexibility has been bemoaned by some as enabling persons to survive who

are physically, mentally, or morally weaker than the average. It is

true that our cultural capabilities enable individuals to successfully

mitigate environmental stresses which would otherwise prove overwhelming

to some members of the population. But that is precisely the significance

and value of cultural adaptation. It allows us to inhabit a far wider

range of environments and to overcome many more hazardous and stressful

situations than would be possible with purely genetic control.

Acclimatization. Acclimatization, as previously mentioned,

refers to short-term capabilities in humans and other organisms to respond

to external stresses. Acclimatory responses, in general, act to maintain

homeostasis, or constant internal conditions in the face of a varying

environment. At their most modest level, such responses occur over a

period of days or weeks, and are reversible. An example of such a change

is the enlargement of muscles from frequent use. Dozens of body responses

which occur on a daily basis, such as perspiration to reduce body

temperature, can be viewed as acclimatizations of this type.

A second type of acclimatization is developmental. Developmental

alterations occur in response to environmental conditions during an

individual's growth period, and may be physiological or morphological in

nature. One of the most well-known examples of developmental acclimatiza-

tion is the enlargement of heart and lungs in people who grow and

develop at high altitude.











Cultural Adaptation

The evolution of a capacity for culture. In human beings,

behavior often acts as a buffer against environmental pressures, and,

unlike in other animals, such behavior is more often ordered by the prin-

ciples of a given culture than by patterned instincts. The capacity for

cultural behavior is a result of a long evolutionary process in humans.

It was a process in which a central nervous system and neocortex of com-

plexity unknown in other animals was developed.

The development of these features did not occur overnight. As

Clifford Geertz has said, there was no marginal genetic change that

rendered humans capable of producing and carrying culture so that there-

after our adaptive response to environmental pressures was almost

exclusively cultural rather than genetic (1973:47). As cultural behavior

developed, and increased the complexity of the environment in which

proto-humans and early humans found themselves, it forced further

development of a cultural capacity. The use of tools, organized hunting

and gathering practices, the beginnings of family organization and the

reliance on symbolic communication such as language, provided positive

feedback2 for long-term evolutionary processes. A selective advantage

was given to those who were most able to take advantage of new cultural

behaviors--to become more adept toolmakers, efficient hunters, or

resourceful leaders (Washburn 1960; Hallowell 1959; Geertz 1973).

2Positive feedback refers to the flow of information or energy
from one component of a system to another which readjusts and reorgan-
izes the system along new lines.











Culture is an evolved biological capacity which gave humans a

tremendous advantage in solving biological problems. Yet it operates

on principles which are somewhat different from the laws of matter and

energy in the biological world. Culture is essentially an informational

system, based on the recognition of significant differences (Bateson

1972). To behave culturally one must use codes and manipulate symbols

(Pike 1964; Goodenough 1964; Hall 1959; Leach 1976). The sounds we utter

in the simplest speech act bear no direct relation to the things about

which we speak. They are systems of non-iconic symbols.

While our capacity for this type of symbol manipulation has

evolved, there is no evidence to suggest that culture itself does. Despite

this fact, a good deal of anthropological theory in the past hundred years

has centered around the concept of cultural evolution. Many investiga-

tors, impressed by the explanatory power of evolutionary theory, postu-

lated that mechanisms similar to natural selection could be at work in

culture. This idea, as it originated in the work of Herbert Spencer

(1883) was based on the proposition that individuals or societies with

favorable characteristics would survive and grow (or reproduce) while

those with inferior traits would die out.

Anthropologists have proposed diverse mechanisms by which a

hypothetical selection process could operate. White (1959) suggested

that increased per capital use of energy was the criterion by which

certain groups achieved selective advantage. Lewis Henry Morgan (1963),

Steward (1955), and Sahlins and Service (1960) did not attempt to specify

a universal selective principle, but assumed a general evolutionary trend


of increasing complexity.











More recent attempts to deal with human adaptation in terms of

a selective process for cultural traits are studies of "co-evolutionary

process" (Durham 1976); "culture as a parallel system of inheritance"

(Richerson 1977); "bio-cultural evolution" (Ruyle 1973); and "Lamarckian

evolution" (Cohen 1981). These types of explanation reason that evo-

lutionary theory is about process, and is independent of the genetic

mechanisms which have been found to corroborate its operation. All that

is necessary, they say, is to appropriately define cultural "traits" and

cultural "species," and identify sources of variation, criteria of

selection and mechanisms of retention. Once this is done, the study of

cultural evolution and human adaptation can proceed by analogy with

natural selection.

The fruitfulness of this approach has been questioned (Dickemann

1981; Medewar 1981). Alland has noted that "analogies, however useful as

heuristic devices, cannot extend a theory into new territory. . The

operating rules of those process mechanisms that produce culture are not

the same as those which produce biologically determined somatic or

behavioral traits" (1967:191). Furthermore, reasoning by analogy in

Alland's view gives culture a superorganic nature, and obscures the true

continuity between biological and cultural processes. When cultures are

set up as equivalent to species, he said, it is easy to forget the role

that human beings play as a species themselves. The consideration of

innovation as analogous to mutation is not only erroneous from the

point of view of the great differences in the way the two processes

operate. It also focuses our attention on an undocumented evolutionary











dynamic in culture itself, rather than on the way in which innovations

solve biological problems and thus confer selective advantages to humans

by allowing more of them to survive and reproduce.

The identification of cultural adaptations. In order to look at

the interaction between environment and culture in a more direct way,

most anthropologists felt it necessary to decide on certain realms of

human behavior which were likely to be most closely related to survival

in a given environment. Julian Steward (1955) suggested that the inter-

action of culture and environment could best be understood by focusing

on a "cultural core" of items and practices most directly related to

human subsistence. Different environments, he felt, required different

technologies, uses of land, or social features in order to be brought

into production successfully. These core elements of culture could be

understood in relation to the environmental context in which they operate.

Steward assumed that while environment had a strong influence on the

elements of the cultural core, there were other superorganic aspects of

culture that were more or less free to take whatever form people wished

to give them.

Steward's approach gave rise to the tradition within anthropology

known as cultural ecology. The work of cultural ecologists has focused

on ascertaining, in the words of Steward, "whether the adjustments of

human societies to their environments require particular modes of

behavior, or whether they permit latitudes for a range of possible

behavior patterns" (1955:36). Most cultural ecological studies, following

Steward's definition of "cultural core," have limited their investigation

to a narrow range of patterns of technology and resource use.











Little and Morren (1976) have criticized narrow definitions

of the types of behavior that are related to human adaptation. They

have suggested that researchers investigating human adaptation should

have an interest in any "cultural and biological factors, processes and

cycles that affect or are directly connected with the survival, repro-

duction, development, longevity, or spatial position of people." They

note that "ample provision exists within this framework for the study

of such cultural factors as ideology, values, motivation, linguistic

categories, personality, ritual and the like, insofar as particular mani-

festations of these influence the interaction of human population with

its environment or affect the biological characteristics of that human

population" (1976:5).

In a model for human life support structures, Little and Morren

(1976) emphasize the role of such practices as marriage prescriptions

and proscriptions, social rules that define sexual maturity, and beliefs

that lead to periods of celibacy, in altering the size and structure

of local human populations. Also included in their model are practices

that modify risk of exposure to conception and that affect the proba-

bility of a successful pregnancy and live birth; practices that

affect the speed and degree of physical and behavioral maturity, and

those which affect nutrition, disease transmission and risk of death.

Adaptive strategies which are relevant include movements in response to

environmental parameters, agriculture and other practices which alter

the environment to make biotic resources more available, strategies of











exchange and distribution of goods, and practices which substitute

the work of livestock or machinery for human labor.

This model considers much more cultural behavior of relevance

to adaptation than do most studies of cultural ecology. In particular,

more attention is given to practices which affect the rate of reproduc-

tion and the size and composition of local groups. The demographic com-

position of populations was particularly neglected in Steward's defini-

tion of a cultural core (Moran 1979:44). Nevertheless, in attempting

to specify aspects of human culture which affect survival and population

growth, and in setting these apart from other aspects which are con-

sidered not to be relevant, Little and Morren (1976) create the same

separation as Steward between the organic and superorganic realms of

human behavior. They are only defining the organic realm somewhat more

broadly.

All aspects of a given culture are potentially relevant to sur-

vival in a given environment. This does not mean that all behaviors will

necessarily be of adaptive significance, but it does mean that there

are no classes of behavior that can be excluded from an investigation of

adaptation a priori. The identification of cultural behaviors which

influence a group's adaptedness can only be determined in an empirical

manner. Observation of the migratory activities of the Aymara of Sarata

revealed that this adaptive strategy was organized by kinship andintra-

community relationships. The Aymara believe men and women to be equally

strong and productive members of society, and this belief reinforces their

flexible division of labor and the fact that each household member can











make themselves responsible for the full range of productive activities

in either the highland or the lowland environment. These aspects of

Aymara culture are of great relevance to behaviors which can be shown

to be adaptive.

This is a point of view which has been expressed by Godelier

(1978) with regard to the distinction in Marxist analyses between super-

structure and infrastructure. He says that there is nothing inherent

about a given behavior that makes it more or less tangible or more or

less material than any other. The important consideration is whether the

behavior can be empirically shown to be important to the reproduction of

social life. Thus, Godelier argues, thought and language have wrongly

been excluded from studies of production and reproduction, since they not

only reflect reality but organize every kind of social practice on the

basis of this reality . ."(1978:764). Thought, which cannot occur in

the abstract, but only in the context and with the tools of a given cul-

ture and language, not only perceives the environmental reality in which

a population lives, but organizes the way the population will come to

terms with it. Yet belief structures, language, and a population's view

of the world, are among those cultural phenomena most often called

superstructure, or superorganic, or otherwise considered irrelevant to

human adaptation.

Limiting the aspects of culture to be considered can also hinder

analysis of adaptive processes by obscuring the interrelationships between

cultural elements. As Winterhalder (1980) has cautioned, "culture,

including the parts of cultural behavior that can be termed adaptations,











rests on highly integrated and cohesive systems of belief, which can

resist rapid alteration of isolated elements or groups of elements.

Change requires systematic adjustments of multiple interrelationships

of belief, behavior, and goals, all of which require time"(1980:138).

This is an understanding which has long been part of anthropological

theory, but which has often become obscured in discussions of adaptive

behavior.

Culture is not simply the sum total of individuals' predisposi-

tions and decisions, as some investigators have suggested (Bennett 1974).

Culture has systems properties, and the existence of a coherent cultural

system means that an individual can carry out most daily activities

without having to stop and calculate at every turn whether a behavior is

rational or not. It also means that an individual can benefit from the

special knowledge or specialized skills of other members of his or her

group without having to develop those skills themselves. Cultural beliefs

and practices can be transmitted and do not have to be reinvented over

and over again. All of these are factors which have given culture

adaptive significance. Certain elements of a culture may not be directly

related to survival and reproduction, but they may heavily influence

other behaviors which are. Again, all aspects of culture are potentially

of importance to adaptation, and those which are, in any given circum-

stances, must be empirically determined.

The functioning of cultural adaptations. When studying cultural

adaptive behavior, it is important to remember that some actions of

people or groups are carried out with the conscious goal of remedying











an environmental problem, while other actions affect their relationship

to the environment in an unrecognized or unconscious way. Alland (1967:

205) has distinguished between teleological or purposive adaptations

and those which are non-teleological. Teleological adaptations are those

purposive behaviors which are often referred to as strategies. They

represent the conscious planning and ingenuity of individuals or groups

in the face of an environmental problem. The development and improvement

of technologies, the decision to send some family members to the city

to earn cash, the keeping of herds as a reserve fund, or the choice of a

marriage partner from another community in order to diversify landholdings,

all are examples of such conscious efforts.

The analysis of teleological adaptations is often considered more

or less straightforward. In most cases the persons involved can clearly

explain why a particular action was necessary. When they cannot, it is

often because the reasoning behind it is so obvious to them that it is not

easily verbalized. Occasionally some, but not all, of the members of a

community or culture may understand the rationale for a behavior. Thus,

a given actor may perform an act out of custom alone, but the conscious

reasoning behind it is known within his or her larger group. It must be

remembered, however, that the conscious reasoning involved is the

reasoning of a specific language and culture. Environmental conditions

are perceived through the grid of that language and culture, and the

strategies designed reflect past cultural experience and do not neces-

sarily have anything to do with Western logic.

A further problem in the analysis of consciously designed strate-

gies is that they may or may not be effective. In a given setting they











may not be sufficient to meet a stress. This is most often true when

the stress is sudden and new (Vayda and McCay 1975). It is also possible

that the source of the stress is misperceived, that the response is

inappropriate, or that the response itself creates new problems.

Non-teleological adaptations present still more difficult prob-

lems. Moore (1965), Harris (1966), and Rappaport (1968) have all dealt

with examples of behaviors whose adaptive consequences were unanticipated

by their perpetrators. Moore explained the way in which a divinatory

ritual performed by the Montagnais-Naskapi before hunting served to

randomize game exploitation and prevent overhunting a region. Harris

(1966) showed how Hindu religious beliefs which prevented cattle

slaughter were beneficial, since other products provided by the animals

(milk, labor, dung, etc.) were of greater value to the population than

their meat alone would have been. Rappaport, in his study of the Maring

of New Guinea, postulated that ritual served to regulate the slaughter

and use of pigs.

If it is to be assumed that these favorable situations are not

the result of pure coincidence, then it is necessary to propose a process

or mechanism by which they came to be. Rappaport proposed that in the

case of the Maring, a system of negative feedback3 maintained pigs,

people, and environment in equilibrium. The ritual cycle of the Maring,

in Rappaport's view, served as a sensing device or "homeostat" to begin

a complicated cycle of pig slaughter and warfare which redistributed

resources and restored equilibrium to the system.


A flow of energy or information from one part of a system to
another, which allows for its return to a previous equilibrium state.











This interpretation has been frequently criticized, most notably

by Friedman (1974, 1979) who says that it is unnecessary to postulate

such a complex regulatory mechanism. According to Friedman, the decision

to slaughter pigs and begin warfare could have been, and most probably

was, based on the people's perceptions of how many pigs could reasonably

be accumulated, and on the level of social conflict.

If cybernetic models are inappropriate, then the question of the

way in which non-purposive adaptations operate remains. Richerson (1977)

and Friedman (1974) have argued that such adaptations cannot be under-

stood synchronically but that one must look at the historical develop-

ment of the trait or activity or process in question. Practices or

beliefs, which are adaptive in a non-teleological fashion in present-day

situations, may have arisen as conscious attempts to solve past problems.

Harris (1979:248-253) gives an example of this. In answering

criticisms of his previous functional explanation of taboos on cattle

slaughter, he presented the historical context for the origin of the

custom. He related the emergence of the taboos on consuming beef to a

period of intensification of agriculture in Indian history, when the

labor of cattle as draught animals became vital. While the taboo forces

a more energetically rational use of cattle at present, people apparently

do not recognize the energy efficiency of the taboo but obey it out of

religious devotion. It cannot be assumed in such situations that there

is any mechanism in culture which assures the continued transmission

of the adaptive behavior without a conscious recognition of its benefits.

To argue that this is so is to rely once again on explanations based on

negative feedback and non-verified cybernetic systems.











Winterhalder (1980) has emphasized this point. He stresses that

adaptations always reflect the action of past environments on the socio-

cultural information that gives rise to human behavior. For this

reason, extant behavior only partially reflects or is fitted to present

circumstances. People may retain past ways of solving problems posed by

their environments, which are crystallized in their religious taboos,

their kinship structure or their ritual cycle. As environments change,

these solutions to past problems may not retain their adaptiveness,

and new solutions must be devised. There is always a lag, however, and

for this reason it is important that analysis of adaptations concern

itself with historical process. As Winterhalder has said, non-dynamic

analyses of adaptation risk matching observed behaviors to the wrong

causes.

Prior studies of migration from the altiplano of Puno provide a

good example of analyses which correlate present behaviors with present

environmental problems, and thus miss the true causes of the behavior

(Kuczynski-Godard 1945; Metraux 1956; Martinez 1969; Instituto Nacional

de Planificaci6n 1979). As discussed in Chapter One, previous studies

have always claimed that increased population pressure on the altiplano

within the past thirty to forty years has made such movement necessary.

The migratory movements, however, have a history which is far longer

than the problems of population pressure such authors have referred to.

The need to exploit lowland ecological zones is deeply rooted in the

past and this suggests that some environmental stress of longer duration,

such as low productivity and energy scarcity, has given rise to migra-


tory behavior.











Adaptation on the Southern Peruvian Altiplano

Stresses and responses. The altiplano of southern Peru and

northern Bolivia has often been cited as an important setting for the

study of adaptation because of the number of stresses or problems which

the environment poses for the human population. Vayda and McCay (1975),

among others, have recently proposed that most adaptive traits arise in

response to crisis situations caused by stress. On the altiplano, both

short-term, acutely stressful situations and more subtle long-term

pressures have led to adaptations on the part of the population.

There are three basic sources of stress for altiplano dwellers.

At altitudes of 12,500 feet (approximately 3800 meters) the partial

pressure of oxygen is reduced to 60 percent of its value at sea level.

At such reduced pressures, a condition of hypoxia is created for humans

and other animals, in which body tissues do not receive sufficient amounts

of oxygen. For non-adapted visitors to the altiplano, this condition

causes shortness of breath, dizziness, nausea, headaches, loss of

appetite, and occasional mental impairment and visual problems. While

other forms of climatic stress can usually be buffered behaviorally to

some extent, there are no such means for reducing the effects of low

oxygen pressure.

Cold stress is a second problem for inhabitants of the altiplano.

In particular, body heat must be guarded against low nighttime tempera-

tures, which may drop to OC (320F) any night of the year. The third

major stress factor is related to both low oxygen pressure and cold

stress. These factors, together with periodic climatic events such as











drought and hail and incidental factors such as poor soils, reduce

primary productivity on the altiplano. This low biological productivity,

or energy-deficiency, makes the subsistence situation for the inhabi-

tants of the altiplano quite precarious.

In the 1960s and early 1970s a program of intensive research on

human adaptation to high altitude was carried out by the International

Biological Program in NuBoa, Puno, Peru. The initial hypothesis of the

project were based on assumptions that the native population of the

altiplano was adapted to life at high altitude and that this adaptation

was largely a result of acclimatory mechanisms which had some genetic

basis.

Nearly two years of research demonstrated that this was not the

case. What researchers found was a whole series of adaptive mechanisms

operating at the levels of physiology and culture. There has been no

firm evidence of genetic adaptedness among the population to date,

although it appears to be experiencing strong selective pressures due to

high child mortality (Dutt 1976).

It was found that hypoxic stress was mitigated for newcomers to

the altiplano by short-term acclimatizations. The most important of

these is an increase in the body's production of oxygen-carrying hemo-

globin cells. For natives of high altitude, acclimatization also in-

cludes a reduced affinity of hemoglobin for oxygen which allows it to be

released more easily to tissues, and developmental factors such as an

increase in heart size and lung capacity. These and several other

short-term mechanisms allow the same amount of oxygen to be delivered











to body tissues per minute for altiplano dwellers as for low-altitude

natives at sea level (Velasquez 1976).

Cold stress is responded to primarily by use of warm alpaca and

sheep's wool clothing, by solidly constructed adobe homes, and by timing

work activities to avoid exposure to nighttime and early morning tempera-

tures. It is also mitigated by a slightly elevated basal metabolic rate,

and a resultant warmer body core temperature, and by higher levels of

blood flow to the extremities than found for sea level residents. All

of the latter are physiological responses and do not appear to have a

genetic basis (Little 1976).

Energy deficiency or low biological productivity was not studied

as intensively by Nunoa researchers as the other stresses. Thomas (1972)

established that the population was in a very precarious energetic

situation. His research was carried out in a year of normal agricul-

tural production and thus he did not observe the effects of periodic

events, such as severe droughts, in reducing productivity,but only the

constant reduction of primary productivity to cold and low oxygen avail-

ability. Thomas felt it likely that reduced adult body size and a

slow and prolonged growth pattern serve to lessen the consequences of

reduced energy availability. He also suggested that several observed

behavioral strategies might be of value as buffers against the stress of

reduced energy availability. These included a division of labor relying

heavily on children, reduced activity levels, a multiple resource base,

inter-zonal exchange, and migration.

To better understand the nature of the altiplano population's

current adaptive situation, it is helpful to return to a model proposed











by L. B. Slobodkin (1968) which was mentioned previously. Slobodkin

has suggested that cultural, physiological, and genetic adaptive mechan-

isms are integrated into a cybernetic system. His model is based on the

suggestion of Bateson (1963) that there exists an economy of flexibility-

restoring mechanisms in which slow deep-seated physiological changes

restore an organism's ability to use short-term, rapid mechanisms in

a flexible way.

Slobodkin suggests that an organism first responds to a pertur-

bation or stress on a behavioral level. If this effectively relieves

the stressful condition, no further change occurs. If the behavioral

response cannot nullify it, then physiological responses will come into

play. Reliance on these responses then restores a measure of flexibility

to the behavioral level.

If the perturbation continues unabated it will increase the

mortality and decrease the fecundity of the population. This gives

increased opportunity to natural selection, since genotypic frequencies

will to some extent determine who lives and dies. While this decreases

population, a large proportion of well-adapted persons survive, and this

group, in turn, has had physiological flexibility "restored" to it. Any

recurrence of the perturbation in the future would lead to relatively

less genetic change. The genetic change, it must be remembered, does

not represent an improvement, but is an adjustment to the disturbing

event, made opportunistically on the basis of the genetic material at

hand.

This model provides a way of approaching the problem of adap-

tation on the altiplano. According to the model, organisms will deal











with stress whenever possible with behavioral mechanisms which are the

most flexible and easily mobilized. Only if these fail will other

mechanisms come into play. The effects of hypoxia, as previously noted,

cannot be dealt with on a cultural or behavioral level. Thus, physio-

logical mechanisms operate to provide resistance for the highland dwellers.

To date, however, there is no evidence for a genetically based adaptation

to lack of oxygen. This is the area where the researchers at Nuioa most

expected to find genetic change had occurred (Baker 1976:14-15).

Cold stress, on the other hand, can be significantly mitigated

by behavioral and cultural means, and is largely handled in this way by

the altiplano population. Apparently, however, the behavioral responses

developed were not always sufficient, since physiological changes related

to cold stress are found in persons who grew up at high altitude. The

same is true of adaptation to energy deficiency. The diverse behavioral

mechanisms suggested by Thomas are operative, as material presented in

subsequent chapters will show. These mechanisms provide a significant

degree of resistance for the population. Nevertheless physiological

changes related to energy deficiency, such as smaller body size, do

occur, and this suggests that the behavioral mechanisms have not been

completely efficacious or have not been effective at all times. Again,

however, no basis for a genetic interpretation of these changes has been

found.

Seasonal migration and adaptation to high altitude. Theodosius

Dobzhansky has said that "every organism has an adaptedness to live in

a range of environments. Adaptedness to only a single constant











environment would lead quickly to extinction, because environments are

not constant. Therefore, every living species is made by natural

selection adaptable to the range of environments which it encounters

regularly, or at least at frequent intervals in its natural habitats"

(1977:182). It is perhaps in this statement that an explanation for the

absence of genetic adaptations to high altitude among altiplano dwellers

can be found.

Patterns of migration to lowland regions engaged in by altiplano

dwellers were documented in the preceding chapter for times of at least

as far back as the Tihuanacoid Empire. Lumbreras (1974:40) and Lanning

(1967:47) have described patterns of seasonal movement between highlands

and lower valleys for some of the earliest inhabitants of the Andes.

Lanning notes that the caves at Lauricocha in the Callejon de Huaylas

in northern Peru, which date from 7500 B.C., were occupied seasonally.

Their inhabitants apparently moved cyclically from the high altitudes

at which the caves are found, to lower valleys and possibly even to the

lomas or temporary oases, on the coast. Given such movement patterns, a

genetically based adaptation to high altitude would not have made sense

for altiplano dwellers or other natives of high altitude areas in the

Andes.

It has always been necessary for highlanders to seasonally

exploit lowland valleys in order to guarantee their subsistence. This

is a behavioral adaptation to the environmental stress of energy

deficiency. The longevity and importance of this principle are attested

to by the fact that natural selection has apparently not given advantage











to individuals who are in some way better suited to life on the alti-

plano, but that adaptedness is achieved by physiological mechanisms.

To continue the quote from Dobzhansky (1977:182), "inhabitants of the

temperate zones have to survive winters as well as summers, and of the

tropics, rainy and dry seasons." In the same way inhabitants of the

altiplano have had to survive life in the lowland valleys as well as at

high altitude. Genetic adaptedness to the latter would almost inevitably

carry with it a reduced adaptedness to the former. Thus, an individual

with a specialized genetic adaptation to high altitude would have reduced

chances of surviving and reproducing were they to migrate to the lowlands

to deal with nutritional stress caused by the energy-deficiency of their

environment. It is in keeping with Slobodkin's model of adaptive systems

that are hierarchically and cybernetically organized, that adaptation

on one level feeds back to another in order to maintain the entire

adaptive system in harmony.


The Role of Energy in Human Adaptation

Energy in natural selection. Energy is a necessary component

of all processes. It initially reaches the earth as sunlight where it

is responsible for heating and producing plant food through photosyn-

thesis. It also, in an indirect way, generates winds, waves, and the

coal and petroleum reserves in the ground. Every process or change that

occurs on earth is accompanied by a transformation of energy from one

form to another. It is this broad understanding of energy, rather than

a recognition of its specialized functions in nutrition, or as fossil











fuel or electric power, which underlies attempts to relate it to evolu-

tion, human adaptation, and the functioning of ecosystems.

Energy has many forms. Those that are most familiar are mechan-

ical, chemical, radiant, and heat energy. Each of these forms has its

own units of measurement in our scientific tradition. In all of its

forms energy can be defined as the ability to do work. In all of its

forms it obeys the laws of thermodynamics. The first of these says that

energy cannot be created or destroyed, but only changed in form and

quality. The second expresses the principle that entropy, or disorder,

always increases in real processes; in other words, that energy becomes

dispersed and of lesser quality in any transformation.

While the involvement of transformations of energy in all

processes is unquestionable, there is still a lack of consensus among

researchers in various disciplines on the extent to which energy is

determinative of those processes. In 1922, E. J. Lotka suggested that

the efficient use of energy resources could serve as a universal

measure of an organism's adaptedness. "In the struggle for existence,"

he said, "the advantage must go to those organisms whose energy-capturing

devices are most efficient in directing available energy into channels

favorable to the preservation of the species" (1922:47). This view is

currently most closely associated with the work of H. T. Odum (1971).

While it has not been generally accepted in the ecological or social

sciences, it has opened the question of the role played by energy in

the evolution and adaptation of human groups.











There is considerable continuity between the view of Lotka and

those of Leslie White (1959). White applied Lotka's assertion that

the struggle for existence was a struggle for energy to human popula-

tions in attempting to develop a model of cultural evolution. He argued

that culture was a material system and thus subject to the laws of

thermodynamics. Cultures varied according to White, in their ability to

harness energy as they drew it from outside themselves and incorporated

it into their systems. By measuring their effectiveness at this task,

he considered it possible to postulate a series of stages of cultural

development which were linked to the type and quantity of energy use.

Animal husbandry, he suggested, harnessed more energy than hunting and

gathering; agriculture was superior in this way to animal husbandry; and

a mixed agropecuarial system was the most effective of all.

The universality of energy efficiency as a measure of adaptation,

or of cultural evolution has not gone unquestioned. Colinvaux (1973)

disagrees with the statement that animals and plants have evolved

primarily as efficient converters of energy, since the pressures of

natural selection are for survival and reproduction and not for any

particular quality. While efficient use of energy is often a selective

advantage, effective use of nutrients, insurance of mating, safe winter-

ing, or growth and dispersal may be of great importance in any particular

case. Vayda and McCay (1975) have reiterated this view and have

extended it to human populations. They suggest that while energy may

be the most important factor in survival on the Peruvian altiplano, or

for sisal workers in Brazil, water may be for the !Kung, or resistance

to the anopheles mosquito for the Tsembaga Maring.











Enery as a limiting factor. Many of the objections to the

assumption that energy is universally maximized in adaptive processes

are based on a concept of limiting factors. This concept was first

enunciated by Justus Liebig in the 19th century as the Law of the

Minimum. Simply stated, the principle is that organisms are limited by

the factor in shortest supply.

Eugene Odum (1975) has restated Liebig's Law in a way that takes

into account both energy and other factors.

The success of a population or community depends on a com-
plex of conditions; any condition that approaches or exceeds
the limit of tolerance for the organism or group in question
may be said to be a limiting factor. Although the quantity
and quality of incoming energy and the laws of thermodynamics
set the ultimate limits, different ecosystems have different
combinations of other factors that may put further limita-
tions on biological structure and function. (1975:108)

In this passage, Odum distinguishes between the role of energy as a neces-

sary force in all processes and its role as a factor which is in limited

supply. While the former is universally applicable, the latter must be

decided for each specific situation.

This is similar to the point made by Slobodkin (1972). He dif-

ferentiated adaptive effectiveness and energetic efficiency. Acts which

are adaptively effective, like all actions, have an energy cost, but

this cost is probably not of interest to an analysis of adaptation

unless energy is limiting. "The conditions under which energy is limit-

ing can be specified, but there is not any formal necessity for a

connection between [adaptive] effectiveness and [energetic] efficiency.

Effectiveness may or may not involve optimization of some function relat-

ing to energy" (1972:294).











Slobodkin's distinction between effectiveness and efficiency

has been used by Smith (1979:62-63) to show that the rate of acquisi-

tion of energy, rather than the use of energy in absolute terms, is

significant to an organism's adaptation. In his view it is always

adaptive to increase energetic efficiency. Energy-limited organisms,

however, need to increase the efficiency of energy capture, while non-

limited organisms should increase the efficiency of energy use, in order

to minimize the time spent acquiring energy which can then be diverted

to other activities related to adaptive success.

Odum, Slobodkin, and Smith all mention certain conditions that

hold in cases where energy is a limiting factor, and suggest that the

conditions under which energy is limiting can be specified. Smith says

that an individual organism is energy-limited if, and only if, increased

energy intake would positively affect its reproductive fitness; and that

a population is energy-limited only if its growth rate would show a

positive increment with an increase in energy intake (Smith 1979:59).

For these reasons, the present analysis attempts to establish that

energy is indeed limiting on the altiplano, before proceeding to an

investigation of seasonal migration as a means of increasing access to

energy resources.


Population Movement and Human Adaptation

Adaptive Movement in Complex Societies

Despite the fact that migration is one of the oldest and most

widespread strategies for the redistribution of human population with

regard to resources, it has rarely been studied as an adaptive











phenomenon. This is partly due to the sharp distinction which has

traditionally been drawn between nomadism and transhumance as practiced

by pastoralists and hunting and gathering groups, and the rural-urban

or rural-rural migratory movements which occur in modern states. While

the former have been studied by anthropologists, who have at least to

some extent turned their attention to sociological questions, the latter

have most often been treated by economists and demographers who have

worked with highly aggregated data and within an economic framework.

This has led to a separation of phenomena which, in their essential goals

and functions, are quite similar.

Similarly, most societies in which energetic studies have been

carried out have been relatively self-sufficient in terms of their

resources. This is true, for example, of the Boreal Forest Cree

(Winterhalder 1977), and the Tsembaga Maring (Rappaport 1968). Even

when more complex societies are studied, they are often treated as

though they were self-sufficient and without significant relationships

to urban center or the national economy (Orlove 1980).

There are many examples, however, of temporary and seasonal

population movements which occur within the framework of modern nations

and among groups which possess a considerable degree of integration

into the national society. In these cases, certain segments of the

population find it necessary or desirable to seasonally, temporarily

or recurrently change their residence in order to guarantee their sub-

sistence. There is no reason why adaptive strategies of population move-

ment cannot be examined from an ecological perspective in complex

societies as well as in hunting and gathering groups.











Most studies of migration assume that migratory movements are

permanent. While return migration is acknowledged, it is usually con-

sidered to be a permanent return to one's home related to a failure of

the migratory attempt. There is an inherent expectation that an indi-

vidual will seek fixed residence in a single location which will

presumably be the place where his or her economic livelihood can best be

insured. While permanent moves represent one type of migration, they

are not the only possibility. As Stearman (1976) has noted, fixity of

residence is not an ideal in all cultures, and the normal economic

routine of many groups may involve a considerable amount of traveling.

Yet seasonal, temporary, and continuous migration have been almost

totally ignored by demographers, economists and others who have con-

tributed to studies of rural-urban migration.

As previously mentioned, strategies of frequent, more or less

patterned movement, are generally accepted as having played a role in

the subsistence of relatively autonomous hunting and gathering or

pastoral populations in the past and they are recognized as still

existing among such groups at the present time. It is widely assumed,

however, that agriculture binds individuals or groups to a given local-

ity and limits their geographic mobility. This assumption of limited

mobility is extended to complex societies, which are built on an

agricultural base and need a stable work force for industry. Little

and Morren (1976:23), for example, have differentiated population

movement strategies from migration on the basis that migration is per-

manent in nature while movement strategies are cyclical and related to











oscillations in resource availability. They associate movement strate-

gies among human populations only with hunters and gatherers.

Recurrent population movements do occur, however, as a normal

course of events in predominantly agricultural and industrialized

societies, as the migrations of saratenos testify. These movements vary

in the manner in which they are organized, the frequency with which

shifts in residence occur, and the length of time spent in each location,

etc. Nevertheless, they all represent (as does permanent migration to

the cities) a rearrangement of population with regard to resources to

insure subsistence. They also represent, in many cases, an attempt to

diversify the resources available to a population either through trade or

direct access.


Temporary Migration

Temporary migration refers to a situation in which an individual,

partial family,or family travel to another area to engage in an eco-

nomically profitable activity or to trade. They may stay in the new

area for months, or years, but they eventually return with their earnings

or goods to their home community, which is their point of reference, and

the place where they indend to live for most of their lives. The journey

may take place only once in an individual's lifetime or it may be

repeated a number of times.

In many present-day contexts such activity represents an inser-

tion into and retraction from the labor force of a national economy.

Irregular participation in a national labor market has been noted by











Meillassoux (1972) and others to remove the burden for a worker's

continued subsistence, and that of his or her family from their

employer, and to place it on the domestic unit. While this is true, it

also represents a selective participation in the labor market. A

subsistence base in the home community gives migrants more choice with

regard to when and where to sell their labor than they would have

otherwise.

Temporary but recurrent migration to urban centers is a common

pattern in much of Africa. Literally millions of Africans "spend their

lives alternating between a period in the industrial center and a period

in the rural village" (DuToit 1975:59). Afrequentcourse of events is

for young men and women to go to work in the city for several years and

then to return home to marry. After marriage they are likely to return

to the cities to work, often for several years at a time, in order to

gain cash or goods for their household (Houghton 1958; Mitchell 1969).

The final intent of the migrants, however, is to settle once and for

all in their villages, and their values and lifestyle reflect this

intention (Abu-Lughod 1975).

Similar situations occur in Latin America. Brush (1977:39) has

noted that nearly one third of all households in Uchucmarca in northern

Peru had members who migrated temporarily to work on the coast, but

who fully intended to return to their home community within a period of

months or years. This is also the most common pattern for migration

to urban areas among community members in the district of Sarata.

Arizpe (1979, 1980) has described a temporary migratory process

in Mexican villages which she refers to as "relay migration." Relay











migration is a household-based strategy in which the goal is to keep

one or more family members in the capital city earning a cash income

for as long a period as possible. Fathers go to the city while the

children are young, but beginning at age 14, sons and daughters are

also able to participate, contributing their income to the household

budget until they marry. Arizpe relates the high value placed on

children in the villages she studied to the need to increase the family's

available labor force for this purpose.


Seasonal Migration

Seasonal migrants travel on a regularly patterned or cyclical

basis to other areas to work, cultivate landholdings, or trade. The

migratory journey is regularly patterned because it is almost always

arranged so as not to interfere with the normal subsistence activities

of a household or group. Like temporary migratory activities, seasonal

activities often contribute a crucial part of the total subsistence of

a household. Yet, as with temporary migration, the migrants may

exercise a great deal of choice with regard to where and how often they

will travel and what type of activity they will undertake.

Wagley (1941) observed a pattern of seasonal migration in

Guatemala. In this area, highland Indians traveled to take part in

the coffee harvest on large plantations during periods of low activity

on their subsistence plots. They had been making these journeys on a

yearly basis for generations. Whiteford and Adams (1975) have described

a similar pattern of migration from rural areas of Bolivia to work

seasonally on sugar cane plantations in northwestern Argentina.











People from northeastern Brazil migrate seasonally to partici-

pate in the sugar cane and cacao harvests on the coast. They also

migrate temporarily to find work in rural areas of Sao Paulo or in the

building industry in metropolitan centers. The volume of temporary

migration from the Northeast waxes and wanes in relation to the amount

of rainfall received in the area. When the disastrous droughts which

are so common in the region occur, there is a general exodus. North-

easterners are said to return, however, at the first news that the rains

have begun again (Wagley 1971:41).

Halpern (1975) has described a variety of seasonal and temporary

migratory patterns in Balkan nations. These movements are usually timed

to correspond to slow periods in the agropecuarial cycle. They may

take the form of trading trips, travel to work at specialized crafts,

or seasonal brigandage, and the trips may be made over short distance

or to places as far away as North America. Halpern found that groups

who were most active in migratory activities were those who lived in

mountainous areas where agriculture was marginal and who had previosuly

become accustomed to a partially mobile existence because of the require-

ments of seeking pasture for their flocks. These groups began to adapt

their customs of seasonal mobility to other economic activities with

the expansion of towns in the 16th century.

The various present-day strategies of vertical resource use

in the Andes, such as that practiced by saratenos, are another example of

seasonal migratory movements engaged in by groups integrated into

larger societies. While in pre-Hispanic times, verticality was











administered most frequently by regional political units (Murra 1972),

its current manifestations are usually controlled by individual house-

holds or communities.

One such example is the pattern of vertical transhumance

described by Stewart, Belote and Belote (1976) for the saragurenos of

Ecuador. Family members travel seasonally with their animals to lowland

zones in order to give them access to green pastures throughout the year.

While the pattern is an old one, the option of selling the animals in

regional markets has given an added incentive to the activity.

Brush (1977) has distinguished three types of vertical resource

use which are currently relied on in the Andes. "Compressed verticality"

refers to a situation in which a family exploits several different ver-

tically arranged crop zones by shifting their residence according to

agropecuarial cycle. In this case, the crop zones are on a steep

gradient and are relatively close together. Each family ideally has

access to land in the yunga or low, corn-growing zone; the kichwa or

intermediate tuber and grain zone; and the puna, which is the highest

of the zones and is used primarily for herding. The residence which

is considered permanent is usually established in the kichwa, midway

between the other two zones. In addition to the work done by Brush

in Uchucmarca, Uebster (1973) has described a resource strategy of this

type for O'ero in Cuzco.

The second type of vertical resource use described by Brush

is "extended verticality." Gade (1967) and Burchard (1974) have

described seasonal trips for purposes of trade which are representative











of this type. On these trips goods from the high part of a valley are

exchanged for products from lower zones of the same valley. The crop

zones within which trade is carried out are contiguous but often stretch

over great distances and there is no direct access to lands in all

places by inhabitants of the valley. There is also a long tradition,

throughout the Andes, of longer trading expeditions which are not

limited to a single valley (Casaverde 1977; Custred 1974, 1977; Flores

Ochoa 1977).

A final variety of verticality is the "archipelago" type

practiced by saratehos. In these cases the zones of resource exploi-

tation are widely separated and the travel between them requires many

days. Despite the distances, trips to the "auxiliary" fields are made

as often as three to four times a year. Fonseca (1972) and Mayer (1971)

have also described communities which rely on this strategy. In all

cases the place of permanent residence is considered to be the high-

lands, where there is easy access to potatoes, grains, and animals for

transport.

These are but a few examples of present-day populations in

complex societies whose subsistence is tied to movement strategies. The

cases described would not lend themselves easily to analysis by theories

of economic maximization or of income differentials, which are commonly

applied to migratory movements. In many cases, cash is not the goal

of the migration, or is only one of many goals. In many of the examples,

the populations in question recognize that they would lose control over

their nutritional base by becoming completely integrated into a cash











economy, and thus they seek to maintain their semi-integrated status.

As in the case of Sarata, diversification of resources is often as

important a goal as is maximization of any variable.

Neither, in most of these cases, can a set of variables which

tend to "push" or to "pull" the migrants be easily identified. Migration

is not an all-or-nothing, once in a lifetime decision, but forms part of

an integrated strategy for the survival of the household unit. Many

calculations enter into the decisions made with regard to who will

migrate, when they will go, how long they sill stay, etc.

A human ecological framework is effective in analyzing these

types of situations because it does not allow the researcher to take for

granted that any one variable is being maximized. Limiting factors or

variables must be empirically determined for each case. The survival-

related problems which are faced by each group must be identified. The

realms of behavior which are relevant to the solution of these problems

and their cultural bases must also be identified. Ecological studies

in anthropology have been criticized for limiting themselves to isolated

groups of people whose integration into larger economic and political

units is minimal (Anderson 1972). The present study hopes to demon-

strate that the methods and theory of human ecology are essential to

the study of strategies of population movement and of other types of

adaptive behavior, in complex as well as in "simple" societies.
















CHAPTER THREE
THE ALTIPLANO RESOURCE BASE
AND PATTERNS OF SUBSISTENCE


Primary Productivity and Production

Geographical and Climatic Factors

The altiplano is a high-altitude plateau which "extends with a

gentle slope from the Western Cordillera of the Andes to the spurs of

the Eastern Cordillera, prolonged toward Bolivian territory on the

southwest and including the large depression of the Poop6 basin" (ONERN/

CORPUNO 1965:49). In Peru, the altiplano is marked by the presence of

Lake Titicaca, and for all practical purposes, can be said to be con-

tiguous with the broad Titicaca basin. The altiplano landscape, and

especially the northeastern side of the lake where Sarata is located, is

marked by steep, mountain-like rock formations, or monadnocks, and by

numerous narrow and protected valleys.

The topography of the altiplano is important because the region's

climatic characteristics are in large part determined by the land masses

which border it. In particular the Eastern and Western Cordilleras

influence precipitation, which falls from September through April and

then completely ceases in the dry season from May through September.

The rains come when air from the South Atlantic anticyclone crosses the

South American continent and is forced up the eastern slope of the Andes.

As it rises, the air cools and expands, losing its capacity to hold

moisture. The resultant precipitation is responsible for the lush rain











forests of the eastern Andes. By the time it crosses the altiplano,

the air's moisture content has been reduced, and in descending from

the Cordillera increased warmth and barometric pressure make rain less

likely. Still, from late September through late March there is some

precipitation nearly every day and this is what sustains altiplano agri-

culture (ONERN/CORPUNO 1965; Thomas and Winterhalder 1976:24).

Around the end of March a low-pressure area over the Gran Chaco

region draws the moist air of the Andean anticyclone toward it and an

intertropical front from the upper atmosphere over Brazil enters the

altiplano. The dry, gusty winds associated with the front dessicate

formerly green pasture lands and leave the altiplano landscape brown and

dusty. Average monthly precipitation for Sarata for the years 1961-1979

is presented in Table 3-1. As Painter (1981) notes, these figures are

somewhat higher than for the rest of the altiplano. This is because

the Cordillera north of Sarata is not as high as in some places, so

cloud masses pass into the altiplano more easily, and also because the

lake basin is narrower in this region which means that the air's moisture

content is still relatively high when it reaches Sarata.

The temperature of the altiplano is influenced by two factors.

One is the altitude, which measures 3812 meters above sea level at the

edge of Lake Titicaca and rises to well over 5000 meters in many parts

of the Cordillera. The other is the tropical latitude of the region,

ranging from approximately 14 on its northern edge to 20 at its

southernmost point around Lake Poopd. The combined effect of these

two factors is that the altiplano temperature varies little from season








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Full Text
KINSHIP AND SEASONAL MIGRATION
AMONG THE AYMARA OF SOUTHERN PERU:
HUMAN ADAPTATION TO ENERGY SCARCITY
By
JANE LOU COLLINS
A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE COUNCIL OF
THE UNIVERSITY' OF FLORIDA
IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE
DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA
1981

Copyright 1981
by
Jane Lou Col 1 ins

To my parents
Annabel 1e June Col 1 ins
and
Robert Harris Col 1 ins

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many people have helped me in the various stages of the project
preparation, field research, and the writing of this work. Funding for
the period of field research was provided by an Inter-American Foundation
Learning Fellowship for Social Change. Three months of support for write¬
up was also provided by Inter-American Foundation. Faculty and staff
of the Universidad Nacional Técnica del Altiplano (National Technical
University of the Altiplano) in Puno, Peru, gave institutional support
to this project in Peru. Their letters to government agencies and local
officials, their lively interest in the research, and their suggestions
and orientations were greatly appreciated. In particular, Professor
Victor Bustinza, Director of Research, and Professors Oscar Chaquilla,
Eleodoro Chahuares, and Rodolfo Machicao contributed greatly to the
success of my field experience. Professor Machicao provided invaluable
introductions to persons in the area of field research and was kind
enough to open his home there to my husband and myself during our stay.
Four Peruvian research assistants aided in the gathering of
data. John Wilfredo Apaza, a former student of agronomy at the UNTA,
spent a great deal of time visiting communities of Sarata with my husband
and myself and helped in the gathering of production data for the region.
His untimely death in 1980 saddened us deeply and deprived Peru of a
very bright, capable, and enthusiastic young scholar. Juan Lira Condori,
TV

a student of sociology at the Universidad Nacional de San Agustín
(National University of St. Augustine) in Arequipa helped greatly in
the gathering of data on consumption and meal patterns, and through
discussions of his own research I learned a great deal about the history
of the haciendas and the present-day SAIS (Sociedad Agrícola de Interés
Social--Agrarian Social Interest Society) in the eastern part of the
district of Sarata. Eva Mercado Vargas helped to transcribe some very
difficult parts of festivals and to translate them from Aymara to
Spanish, as did Yolanda López Callo. Ms. Lopez was also extremely helpful
in orienting me to the district and to her own home community. She is
currently working as an instructor of the Aymara language at the Univer¬
sity of Florida.
Professors Alejandro Camino, Carlos Aramburú of the Pontificia
Universidad Católica, and Hector Martínez of the Universidad Nacional
Mayor de San Marcos provided assistance and suggestions in Lima. Cor¬
respondence with Professor Thierry Saignes helped me clear up important
questions about the history of the northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca.
The companionship and suggestions of North American researchers Peter
White, Benjamin Orlove, Katherine Julien, Phil Blair, and Lucy Briggs
were greatly appreciated.
In the district of Sarata innumerable persons made an effort to
integrate my husband and myself into their fiestas, their exchange net¬
works, and many other aspects of their lives, and made our stay a ful¬
filling personal experience as well as a successful period of research.
In particular, the support of Lucio Ticona Collquehuanca, Gregoria Sarábia,
v

Lucia López de Lima, Abdon Ticona Maniani, Juan Ticona Colquehuanca,
Santiago Calli Apaza, and Javier Mamani Mainani must be acknowledged,
The Hermanas de San José in Sarata and Father Domingo Llanque in Juli
also provided much hospitality and good advice.
I am grateful to the members of my doctoral committee: Professors
Charles Wagley, M. J. Hardman, Anthony 01iver-Smith, Maxine Margolis,
and John Alexander for their advice and support. I am especially grateful
to Doctor M. J. Hardman for first awakening my interest in the Aymara
language and people and for providing me with much of the training in
field methods upon which my research relied. Doctor Charles Wagley
provided guidance, encouragement and support throughout all stages of
my research without which the realization of this work would hove been
much more difficult.
Finally, I would like to thank my husband, Michael Painter, whose
doctoral research in Peru was carried out at the same time as my own.
His continual encouragement, excellent advice, and good humor throughout
our graduate studies and research have not only made this work possible,
but made it a truly enjoyable time in our lives.
vi

TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS iv
ABSTRACT IX
CHAPTER
ONE SEASONAL MIGRATION IN AN ANDEAN CONTEXT:
DESCRIPTION AND HISTORY 1
Introduction 1
Highland Aymara in the Tropical Forest 9
Land Tenure, Energy Deficiency, and Seasonal
Migration 17
Historical Contact with the Ceja de Selva 23
The Pre-Hispanic Roots 23
The Search for Gold and the Escape
from Forced Labor 28
Missions, Quinine, and Rubber 31
The Twentieth Century 35
The A]tijYlano Setting 39
The political environment 39
Social stratification 47
Language and ethnicity 48
TWO SEASONAL MIGRATION AND HUMAN ADAPTATION:
THEORETICAL ISSUES 51
Human Adaptation 51
Introduction 51
Genetic and Physiological Adaptation 52
Natural selection 52
Acclimatization 54
Cultural Adaptation 55
The evolution of a capacity for culture .... 55
The identification of cultural
adaptations 58
The functioning of cultural adaptations .... 62
Adaptation on the Southern Peruvian Altiplano ... 67
Stresses and responses 67
Seasonal migration and adaptation to
high altitude
vi i
71

CHAPTER
Page
The Role of Energy in Human Adaptation 73
Energy in natural selection 73
Energy as a limiting factor 76
Population Movement and Human Adaptation 77
Adaptive Movement in Complex Societies 77
Temporary Migration 80
Seasonal Migration 82
THREE THE ALTIPLANO RESOURCE BASE AND PATTERNS
OF SUBSISTENCE 87
Primary Productivity and Production 87
Geographical and Climatic Factors 87
Natural Life Zones 93
The lakeside zone 96
The intermediate zone 106
The herding zone 109
Productivity of the Zones 112
Consumption 118
Preservation of Foods 118
Food Sources and Exchange 119
Meal Composition and Patterns 122
Seasonal Variation in the Diet 126
Food Beliefs 130
Evaluation of the Al ti piano Diet 131
Food Distribution within the Household 138
Energy Expenditure 139
The Division of Labor 139
Exchanges of Labor 146
Annual and Regional Variation in Energy
Expenditure 148
A Summary of Subsistence in Sarata 150
FOUR SEASONAL MIGRATION AND ENERGY DEFICIENCY 160
Introduction 160
The Flow of Energy through Altipiano Households .... 163
Description 163
Analysis 182
Reproduction, Crisis Survival, and the Role of
Seasonal Migration 196
FIVE THE CULTURAL FRAMEWORK FOR MIGRATORY ACTIVITY:
AYMARA KINSHIP AND COMMUNITY 201
The Role of Kinship 201
Descent and the Structure of Consanguineal
Kinship 203
v i i i

CHAPTER
Page
The Nuclear Family Household 222
Marriage and Affines 228
Compadrazgo 239
The Community and the Marka 245
SIX KINSHIP AND COMMUNITY IN THE MIGRATORY PROCESS 249
Experiences of Kinship and Migration in One
Sarata Community 249
Mauricio Mayta Condori and Justina
Condori Apaza 251
Prospera Chaina Molli and Paulino
Mayta Paxsi 254
Nicolas Mayta Paxsi and Feleca Paxsi
Ticona 257
Daniel a Mayta Condori 259
Santiago Mayta Mamani 259
Migration and the Development Cycle of the
Household 260
The Household in Historical Patterns of Migration . . . 266
The Kinship Support System 271
SEVEN CONCLUSIONS 291
Theoretical Implications 291
Policy Implications 300
APPENDIX
ONE THE AYMARA PHONEMIC ALPHABET 305
TWO NOTES TO TABLE 4-1 306
THREE NOTES TO TABLE 4-2 311
FOUR NOTES TO TABLE 4-3 315
FIVE DYNAMO PROGRAM FOR MODEL OF LAKESIDE ZONE
(ALL VALUES x 106 KCAL) 319
SIX DYNAMO PROGRAM FOR MODEL OF INTERMEDIATE ZONE
(ALL VALUES x 106 KCAL) 322
SEVEN DYNAMO PROGRAM FOR MODEL OF HERDING ZONE
(ALL VALUES x 106 KCAL) 325
REFERENCES 328
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 346
IX

Abstract of Dissertation Presented to the Graduate Council
of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy
KINSHIP AND SEASONAL MIGRATION
AMONG THE AYMARA OF SOUTHERN PERU:
HUMAN ADAPTATION TO ENERGY SCARCITY
By
Jane Lou Col 1ins
December 1981
Chairman: Charles Wagley
Major Department: Anthropology
The people of the southern Peruvian highlands have adapted to a
condition of energy scarcity through seasonal migration to lowland areas.
In the district of Sarata (a fictitious name for a real district on the
northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca) people spend three to seven months
of every year growing coffee in the Tambopata Valley of the eastern Andes.
This migratory pattern, which is hundreds of years old, provides the
context for an investigation of human adaptive processes.
The present study presents models of the flow of energy through
high-altitude households and shows that energy is a limiting factor for
the population. There are two periods when energy subsidies from lowland
regions become crucial to the continued survival of highland households.
These are the periods of peak growth and reproduction experienced by
households early in their developmental cycles, and times of sharply
lowered productivity caused by environmental crises such as drought or
x

killing frosts. Seasonal migration provides the subsidies which house¬
holds rely on during these periods.
Seasonal migration in Sarata is organized primarily through the
structure of kin relationships. Exchanges of labor and goods between
consanguineal, affinal, and ritual kin make coordinated production in two
widely separated zones possible. The information, initial support, and
productive knowledge required in the migratory effort are also transmitted
along kinship lines. Prior to the Spanish Conquest, political institu¬
tions as well as kinship served to organize the exploitation of lowland
ecosystems. When regional political organizations were broken down and
replaced by Spanish institutions, kinship structure and to a certain
extent community relationships became entirely responsible for maintaining
seasonal migration as a strategy.
Seasonal exploitation of lowland ecosystems is shown to be vital
to the survival of the population of the district of Sarata because of
the energy subsidies it provides. This fact must be kept in mind when
development efforts for the region are designed. The migration of the
people of Sarata to the Tambopata Valley also provides a potential model
for the exploitation of the eastern slopes of the Andes, a region which
Peru is eager to bring into production and where most previous develop¬
ment efforts have been unsuccessful.
xi

CHAPTER ONE
SEASONAL MIGRATION IN AN ANDEAN CONTEXT:
DESCRIPTION AND HISTORY
Introduction
Every year approximately one-third of the households in the
Aymara-speaking district of Sarata^ leave the altiplano for three to
seven months to tend their coffee fields in the Tambopata Valley. The
valley lies just 130 kilometers north of the district "as the crow flies"
(see Figure 1-1), but the road which crosses the snowcapped eastern
range of the Andes and winds down into the valley covers 360 kilometers
in its journey. The steep slopes of the valley are covered with the
dense vegetation of the tropical rain forest. The valley is part of
that ecosystem known to Peruvians as the ceja de selva--"the eyebrow
of the jungle"; or as la muralla verde--"the green wall."
Tambopata contrasts sharply with the homeland of the seasonal
migrants. The district of Sarata lies on the northeastern shore of
Lake Titicaca, running from the edge of the lake north toward the
eastern Andean range. The district is considered the most temperate
part of the altiplano, having milder temperatures and more rainfall than
is generally the case. During the six months of the growing season
rain falls nearly every day, pastures are green, and in the zones near
the lake, potatoes, barley, quinoa, beans, and other crops are produced.
For at least six months of every year, however, the rains cease,
^Sarata is a fictitious name for the district where field re¬
search was carried out.
1

2
Í6" ?!»
Figure 1-1. Location of Sarata in Peru

3
and the landscape becomes grey-brown and dusty, with the basic color
scheme broken only by the brilliant blue of the lake and sky and the
green of a few irrigated bean plots.
Oxygen and carbon dioxide are limited at the altitude of the
altiplano, which is 3812 meters, or approximately 12,500 feet. This
fact, combined with low temperatures, nighttime frosts, frequent hail¬
storms, and periodic droughts, contributes to low levels of primary
productivity in the altiplano environment. The agriculturalists and
herders of the region receive a low return on the energy they invest in
production. Thomas (1972, 1976) has suggested that energy is seriously
deficient in the altiplano environment, and that the inhabitants of the
altiplano have developed behavioral strategies for dealing with this
problem. Migratory activity has been specifically suggested as one
such strategy. Some researchers feel, however, that a precise definition
and demonstration of energy deficiency is necessary before claims of
adaptation can be made (Smith 1979).
The present study will argue that energy is indeed a limiting
factor for altiplano populations and that seasonal migration serves to
alleviate the stress caused by lack of energy resources in crucial
periods. In particular, it will be shown that energy scarcity poten¬
tially affects the survival and reproduction of altiplano households
and that seasonal migration provides added subsidies which households
rely on at critical periods of growth and reproduction, and of agricul¬
tural crisis.
Households have been chosen as the unit of analysis in approach¬
ing this problem since it is at this level that decisions are made with

4
regard to productive processes, including migration. The kinship ties
which are shared by the members of a household, and which bind them to
other households, form the social relations of production in the district
of Sarata. They organize labor and coordinate the realization of
different productive activities which occur in points as distant from
one another as the altiplano and the Tambopata Valley. Seasonal migra¬
tion among the Aymara of Sarata provides a striking example of the way
in which institutions of kin and community can order activities related
to the survival and reproduction of people in their environment. For
this reason, Chapters Five and Six of the present work will be devoted
to Aymara kin and community relationships and their role in migratory
activity.
The question of whether energy is truly a limiting factor in
the district of Sarata will be addressed through the use of energy flow
models which were prepared for households in its three ecological, or
natural life zones. These models were quantified with data gathered
through participant observation and interviews. The models serve a
descriptive purpose, as a simplified representation of the flow of
energy through the households. The simulation of the models also serves
as an analytical tool for the answering of questions about energy
availability and the effect of seasonal migration. Basic data on the
altiplano environment, and on processes of production, consumption, and
energy expenditure will be provided in Chapter Three, and the models
and their analysis in Chapter Four.
The migration of altiplano dwellers to Tambopata has been inter¬
preted by many observers as an adaptation to a problem of land scarcity

5
which has arisen in the past half-century. The present work argues
that adaptations which exist in the present are a result of the way in
which people have altered and shaped their behavior to deal with
environmental problems in the past. They reflect changes in behavior
which occur slowly over time. It is unlikely that the carefully scheduled
patterns of movement which occur between the highlands and the valley,
the complex networks of exchange and mutual assistance, and the calcu¬
lated maximization of benefits from the two ecosystems, could have
arisen full-formed in response to a recent trend toward reduced size of
landholdings. Neither is this assumption supported by the historical
evidence. As land pressure increases, seasonal migration may become
more essential to the subsistence of jarátenos, but it is not land
pressure which gave rise to the strategy.
The current movement to Tambopata is an extension of earlier
patterns of seasonal migration and the conditions which give rise to
it have been a fact of life on the altiplano for hundreds of years, if
not millenia, as subsequent sections of this chapter will show. The
recognition of this fact allows us to deal with the adaptive behavior
of seasonal migration in a more appropriate time frame. The social
institutions which make migration possible today have grown up in con¬
junction with migratory activity over many hundreds of years. By looking
at how the Ayinara of the district of Sarata make decisions about and
organize their migrations through the mechanisms of kinship today, and
by using historical data to reconstruct how they may have done this in
the past, a clearer picture of seasonal migration as an adaptive process
is achieved.

6
Many studies of adaptive human behaviors establish that a given
activity has a specific function in its environmental setting and go
no further. How such a behavior came to be or why it continues to be
practiced is left unclear. Some researchers have postulated elaborate
regulatory mechanisms which would serve to maintain behaviors which
keep a system in "equilibrum" (Rappaport 1968). In the case of the
Aymara of Sarata it is not necessary to postulate complex regulatory
mechanisms or cybernetic models to explain why people behave in an
adaptive way. The adaptive nature of seasonal migration is recognized by
saratehos, and the exploitation of lowland ecosystems has been a conscious
strategy on the part of ajtjplajno populations for more than 1000 years.
Furthermore, the Aymara have a deep awareness of the potential and
limitations of their social structure and they consciously manipulate and
use its relationships to make seasonal migration possible.
Research on the problem of human adaptation to the altiplano
environment was carried out during a year's field work in the district
of Sarata. Participant observation was used to determine patterns of
production and migration throughout the district. In-depth structured
interviews were carried out to obtain detailed information on produc¬
tion, consumption, and energy expenditure. Participant observation and
interviews were also carried out during the coffee harvest in the
Tambopata Valley when the author accompanied Aymara producers from Sarata
to that region. The research was carried out principally in the Aymara
language.
As previously described, much of the data collected were inte¬
grated into energy flow models and these models were simulated by computer

7
in order to provide information on energy availability and the effect
of migration. Another specialized analytical technique relied on was
componential analysis, which was used to arrive at a description of the
structure of Aymara kinship patterns which organize migration. This
methodology, which is derived from the field methods of the structural
linguist, was applied both to kin terms and kinship behavior of the
district of Sarata. Finally, migratory histories collected in Aymara,
and early Spanish writings, were consulted in order to reconstruct his¬
torical patterns of migration in the district and present-day kinship
terms were compared with those described in 1603 by Bertonio (1879)
in order to show the changes in kinship which accompanied changes in the
strategy of seasonal migration.
Seasonal migration among the Aymara of Sarata is not only a
topic of relevance to theories of human adaptation. Important issues
of economic development and public policy are also involved. The migra¬
tion to Tambopata is an example of an autonomously developed adaptive
strategy which has survived from pre-Incaic times and has been altered
to meet the current needs of the population. Older strategies of lowland
exploitation have not been given up in favor of integration into a cash
economy. Rather, the Aymara of Sarata consciously introduced cash crops
into a lowland ecosystem and reshaped their traditional migratory pattern
just enough to accomodate this new development. Their seasonal migra¬
tory activity exemplifies the way in which a "marginal" population has,
at least temporarily, been able to exercise control over the changes
which accompany the introduction of awestern-style cash economy.

8
This favorable situation may be reversed at any time, however,
by government policies which would deny highlanders access to valley
lands, as the Law of Peasant Communities did, at least on paper, in
1969. Government policy makers are often unaware of the close relation¬
ships between highland and valley ecosystems. They do not recognize that
to deny people from areas like Sarata access to lowland regions would
at worst jeopardize their subsistence, and at best, trigger mass migra¬
tion to the already overcrowded cities of the Peruvian coast. The idea
that migration to the lowlands is a recent phenomenon caused by land
shortages led policy makers in the Peruvian government to feel that
token land redistribution in the highlands would make seasonal migration
unnecessary. This widespread misconception could lead current officials
to the conclusion that token development efforts in the highlands would
make control of lowland ecosystems unnecessary to its inhabitants, and
thus further the current trend to place ceja de selva and selva lands
in the hands of large corporations (Agronoticias 1980).
Finally, the ceja de selva of the Tambopata Valley is part of
an ecological zone which has, until recently, seen very little develop¬
ment in Peru. The experience of sarateños in bringing this zone into
production, and the changes brought about by the introduction of cash
crops, provide important insights into the problems involved in the
exploitation of the region. To date, all efforts to colonize the
Peruvian ceja de selva by persons unfamiliar with the zone have failed.
As a model of seasonal use, by persons who have experience in the
region and whose survival in many ways depends on it, the example

9
provided by saratenos is significant. Actions which would deny sara-
tefios access to the valley would not only deny them resources which are of
the utmost importance for their survival in the altiplano environment.
It would also ignore a potential model for the effective utilization of
a previously unexploited ecological zone.
Highland Aymara in the Tropical Forest
Five hundred years ago, the people of Sarata went to Tambopata
to mine for gold. They went on foot, carrying their food and supplies
in by llama caravan. The journey made this way required ten days (see
Figure 1-2). The old foot paths are still followed by present-day
merchants who take horses and mules to the valley to sell, but this
older pattern has largely been replaced by more modern forms of trans¬
port.
In the 1940s a road was built from the altiplano to the town
of Sandia, which is the capital of the province in which the Tambopata
valley lies (see Figure 1-3). Many people took trucks as far as Sandia,
then walked the three days more required to reach the small town of San
Juan del Oro, in the heart of the coffee region. At the present time
the road runs all the way to San Juan, but the area under cultivation
has expanded so greatly that many plots still lie more than a full day's
walk from the road.
The road is a mixed blessing. The journey by foot was long and
difficult and could not be made more than once or twice a year. The
journey by truck is easier, and people are able to travel back and forth


Figure 1 -
(After Kuczynski-Godard 1945:71 and Martínez 1969:21)

12
between the highlands and the valley more frequently, but the danger of
the journey is not decreased. The road is entirely of dirt, and once
it enters the valley it consists mostly of a strip wide enough for one
vehicle carved out of the side of a cliff. Its narrowness forces a
general agreement among truck drivers that certain days of the week will
be for traffic descending into the valley, while the rest are for traffic
which is leaving. With the exposed earth of the cliffs on one side of
the road, and the river gorge on the other, landslides are frequent in
the rainy season. At the most conservative estimate, 15 people from the
district of Sarata lost their lives traveling to and from the valley in
1980.
The people of Sarata own their lands in Tambopata. The Delega¬
ción de Tierras de Montaña("Delegation of Jungle Lands")» passed in 1946,
made it possible for potential "colonists" to claim small extensions of
land. After years of bureaucratic confusion, in which people had to
claim and reclaim and sometimes lost the same piece of land, the process
for obtaining land appears to have been stabilized. It is currently
controlled by the Ministry of Agriculture. The mean size of a producer's
plots in the valley is 3.5 hectares (Instituto Nacional de Planificación
1979) although a few people have managed to gain access to ten hectares
or more.
Once land is obtained, it is cleared by slash and burn techniques.
The dense vegetation is cut down in June and July and burned after it is
dry, in August or September. Previously propagated seedlings are set
out in January or February and are replanted about three meters apart in

13
March. All of the coffee grown in the valley is a variety of mild
Arabica, similar to that grown in El Salvador.
Although none equal coffee in importance, other crops are also
grown in the valley and many of them are actually intercropped with the
coffee trees. Corn is often planted between coffee seedlings the
first year, to provide protection from the sun and rain. Plaintains
are also started among the coffee to provide shade once the trees are
larger. Yuca and taro, or papa japonesa (Colocasia esculenta) are grown
for personal consumption during periods of work in the valley, and rice
is being produced more frequently as cultivators move into lower areas
more suitable to its cultivation. Oranges, pineapples, tangerines,
lemons, papaya, and dozens of other fruits grow well and are often sold
to intermediaries for marketing outside the valley.
Approximately three to four years after planting, the coffee
trees produce their first cherries, and they are usually in full produc¬
tion after the fifth year. The harvest takes place from April through
September since not all the cherries ripen at the same time. In the
early years of coffee production, techniques for removing the hull from
the bean were extremely rudimentary. Growers placed the coffee in a fast-
moving stream for as long as 15 days until the outer fruit was partially
decayed. This was then removed either by trampling with the feet or by
hand. This process often left the bean, as well as the hull, decayed,
a condition referred to a cafe abombeado. At the present time, nearly
all coffee growers own small machines with which to hull their harvest.
Most producers of coffee depend on a labor besides their own,
at least for the period of the harvest. They tend to rely on people who

14
are either related by kinship or ore members of the same altiplano
community. Only if no one in either of these categories can be found
to help, will strangers be hired. Because of the small resident popula¬
tion, workers must be convinced to travel from the altiplano. They are
provided with all their meals and a place to stay in the valley, in
addition to their daily wage, and are usually.given a day off with pay
(pal 1 aka) every five to six days.
Most of those who come to pick coffee as day laborers are younger
people. If conditions in the valley agree with them, they will often
claim a plot of their own. In this case, they can usually depend on
the friend or relative they are working for to help them clear and
plant their land, and they, in turn, will continue to help harvesting
that person's fields until their own trees are producing. This is the
most common way for new claims to be staked in the valley, and it is
but one example of how the labor exchange mechanisms of the al ti piano
are relied on in the lowland environment.
From the time it was introduced in Tambopata until the late
1960s, coffee was marketed through private intermediaries. Producers
would carry the sacks of coffee on their backs from San Juan to Sandia
where it was sold. Whether they sold it to small-scale transporters or
to larger interests, it all eventually reached the hands of a few com¬
panies in the altiplano commercial center of Juliaca, who bulked it and
sold it on the national or international market.
In the 1960s the Peruvian govenrment set up a network of coffee
cooperatives. These were designed to make technical assistance, inputs,

15
and credit more easily available to producers. They also become the
only legal mechanism for coffee marketing in the nation. There are
currently base-level cooperatives in the Tambopata Valley. Each inte¬
grates several hundred producers, who tend to group together according to
the altiplano communities to which they belong. Base level cooperatives
are integrated into a regional organization known as CECOVASA (the
Central Office of the Cooperatives of the Valleys of Sandia), which is
located in Juliaca. The regional office bulks the coffee, grinds some
of it, and sends it to the national headquarters which finally places it
on the international market.
While the creation of the cooperatives effectively ended the
business of the large private sector traders, there are still opportuni¬
ties for speculation by small-scale intermediaries. The cooperatives
have a practice of giving small down-payments to producers when coffee
is turned in, and then paying them the remainder when the trend of prices
on the world market is better known. This usually allows the cooperative
to pay higher prices than would be possible were they forced to make an
early estimate. It also allows speculators to buy coffee from culti¬
vators who need cash early in the season, at prices considerably below
what the cooperative will pay later. They hold the coffee until the
price rises sufficiently, and then sell it to the cooperative them¬
selves for the higher price.
The most salient characteristic of coffee production in Tambopata,
as practiced by the people of Sarata, is the way in which it is inte¬
grated with subsistence activities on the altiplano. By careful

16
distribution of household labor, production is carried out in two
distinct and distant ecological zones. Fortunately, the coffee harvest,
which requires the heaviest investments of labor, takes place largely
during the dry season, when there is little agricultural work to be done
on the altiplano. The beginning of the coffee harvest in April and
May overlaps somewhat with the breaking open of fallow land and the
harvest in the highlands, however, and the end of the harvest and Sep¬
tember weeding in the valley also coincide with the beginning of the
al ti piano planting season. At these times, and during the December coffee
weeding, labor is shuffled back and forth between highlands and lowlands
as necessary.
This opportunistic movement of productive household members, is
in part made possible by the flexible sexual division of labor among the
Aymara of Sarata. Both men and women engage in all types of agricultural
activity and both men and women will migrate to the valley to carry out
production there when necessary. Since men are considered better at
plowing fallow land on the altiplano, they may work at this task while
women go to the valley to weed and heqin the coffee harvest in April. The
women most often return to the altiplano by May, in order to begin the
potato harvest, since they are considered better at this activity.
Their husbands then travel to the valley to resume the coffee harvest.
There is one rule which is never violated in the distribution of
labor between the highlands and the lowlands: at least one adult house¬
hold member must remain on the altiplano at all times. The subsistence
of the households of Sarata depends on their highland fields and their

17
livestock, and someone must always be there to care for the crops and
animals and the household complex. For this reason, although both men
and women migrate, they rarely do so together. Instead, they move back
and forth individually between the two zones, according to where their
presence is necessary.
Lari_d Tenure, Energy Deficiency, and Seasonal Migration
Producing simultaneously in highland and lowland ecosystems,
and the constant movement of household members necessary to maintain it,
seems intuitively awkward to many outside observers. If one looks at
the productive activities of the Aymara of Sarata with western expecta¬
tions of consolidated landholdings and fixed residence, they appear to be
a makeshift solution--a way to make ends meet until better alternatives
are available. Perhaps it is for this reason that most investigators
who have had occasion to deal with the migration to Tambopata, have
assumed that seasonal migration is a temporary stage in what will even¬
tually become a permanent colonization movement.
The Puno-Tambopata project was a joint development effort of the
Peruvian government and the United Nations, carried out in the 1950s.
In addition to initiating development projects on the altiplano, it
attempted to improve the infrastructure of the Tambopata Valley in order
to stabilize the already existing settlement there and to attract new
migrants. Such efforts were based on a belief that once the health and
transport situation in the valley was improved, seasonal migrants would
begin to settle there permanently. Both Alfred Metraux (1956) and Héctor

18
Martínez (1969), who worked in the zone in the 1940s and 1950s, also
expressed the view that people would eventually cease to return to the
altiplano and would take up permanent residence in the ceja de selva.
By the 1980s, such a transition to permanent settlement had not
occurred, at least not among the Aymara cultivators of Sarata. There
is, of course, a resident population in the valley, but it is made up
almost exclusively of shop owners and merchants from the Quechua-speaking
areas of Puno. Virtually no coffee-growers remain in the region year-
round.
In explaining the persistence of a seasonal migratory pattern,
two factors must be considered. The first is the perception of the high¬
landers that there is no possibility of subsistence on the resources of
the valley alone. The food crops that can be grown there are seen as
limited, and it is recognized that they deplete the soil quickly. Work
in the coffee fields is by nature seasonal, and while it provides wel¬
come cash with which to supplement altiplano subsistence, the amounts
received could never suffice to feed a family for a year.
Subsistence activities in the valley are not only viewed as
insufficient, but as insecure. The money made from coffee is subject to
strong market fluctuations as well as to the control of the cooperatives.
The land claim process is seen as overly bureaucratic and arbitrary and
there is always a suspicion on the part of producers that their rights
to land could be suspended. All of these are factors outside the control
of the producers and they make the risk of trying to support a household
on valley activities seem far too high.

19
The second factor which helps explain why the people of Sarata do
not move permanently to the valley is that they have a tradition of
seasonal migration which stretches back hundreds of years. This seasonal
migration has most often been directed toward lowland areas where crops
were grown or trade was engaged in to supplement highland subsistence.
This is the same role that the income from coffee plays today.
Accounts which have insisted that the visits of sarateños to
Tambopata would eventually give way to permanent colonization have
ignored the time depth of the pattern of seasonal movement. They have
focused on current problems of the a 1 ti piano environment assuming that
the movement to Tambopata is a response to forces unleashed only in the
past few decades. Kuczynski-Godard (1945), Metraux (1956), Martínez (1969)
and the Instituto Nacional de Planificación (1979) have all attributed
the migration to Tambopata to population pressure and parcelization of
land.
Landholdings on the altiplano, and in the district of Sarata in
particular, are indeed small. The average amount of cultivable land per
person is 0.5 hectares. Holdings are smaller on land near Lake Titicaca,
and larger as one moves further away from it. Since the land further
from the lake is less productive, more of it is needed to produce the
same amounts. However, none of the studies mentioned above actually
demonstrated that the small size of landholdings was related in any way
to the seasonal migration.
The present study hopes to show that while seasonal migratory
movements are related to deficiencies in the altiplano environment, they

20
are not necessarily related to a shortage of land. The deficiencies
referred to are energetic in nature, and are related to the particulari¬
ties of the high-altitude environment. The problems of survival they
have created for the altiplano population are of long standing, and
seasonal migration is an important historical strategy for solving these
problems.
There are some households in Sarata whose landholdings are not
enough for all their children to inherit. In these cases, one or more
of the children may migrate, but in these cases, Tambopata is rarely
the destination. More often than not such migration will be directed
toward the coastal cities--Tacna, 11 o, Moliendo, or Lima--to Juliaca, the
local commercial center, or to La Paz, Bolivia.
It is extremely difficult to obtain accurate figures on such
migration, since in one case it is on a local level, in another it is
international and thus often illegal, and since in almost all cases
there are frequent trips made back to the home community. A survey con¬
ducted by the Instituto Nacional de Planificación in 1979 revealed that
44.7 percent of the population of the department of Puno had migrated
at least once in their lifetime. If this figure is accepted as a rough
estimate for the district of Sarata, and the 30 percent of the district's
population which migrates to Tambopata is subtracted, approximately 15
percent of the population appears to have migrated to these other areas
at least once.
For most altiplano households, labor is a scarce commodity.
The high rates of daily caloric expenditure presented in Chapter Three

21
attest to this fact, as does the vitality of mechanisms of labor exchange.
The accomplishment of critical agricultural tasks within the required
time span is a challenge faced by most families on a yearly basis.
Many households, if given more land outright, would find their ability
to work it hindered by the constraints imposed by the critical periods
for harvest, plowing, and planting.
The present work argues that the al ti piano can be classified as
an energy-deficient region. This concept is defined and the data which
lead to such a conclusion are presented in Chapters Three and Four. To
call a region energy-deficient means that the reproduction of individuals
and the growth of the population is limited by the availability of energy.
On the altiplano, low temperatures, periodicity of rainfall, low avail¬
ability of oxygen and carbon dioxide, poor soils, drought, hail, and
frost often reduce al ti piano yields to a point where producers may barely
net an energetic return. When large crop losses occur several years in
a row, as they did in the drought of the 1950s, the balance between energy
expended and what is available to be consumed may shift to negative.
Given these circumstances, bringing more land under cultivation
would not be the most rational solution to the problems of a 1 ti piano
producers. Painter (1978) has described a range of activities in which
altiplano cultivators expend their labor during periods which are not
critical to agriculture. Such activities, of which seasonal migration is
the most important, have traditionally provided energy subsidies for
altiplano households. Historically, these subsidies have taken the form
of food or other goods produced or traded for at lower altitudes. At the

22
present time, while such goods remain important, a cash income from
the sale of coffee or the sale of one's labor has become a frequent goal.
The cash can then be transformed into additional food or clothing for
the household, improvements to the household complex, or into certain
types of consumer goods which are rapidly increasing in popularity in
the district of Sarata.
Geertz (1963), Boserup (1965), Bartlett (1976), and others have
discussed the way in which population increases in a region lead to
intensification of productive labor. Archaeological remains of agricul¬
tural terracing are evidence for the long history of intensive agriculture
on the altiplano. The records of the Inca overlords encountered by Garci
Diez de San Miguel in Chucuito in 1567 (Murra 1964) showed the population
of that region to have been 170,000 before the Spanish Conquest (Sánchez-
Albornoz 1974:44). With the Conquest, a rate of depopulation of approxi¬
mately two-thirds occurred on the altiplano. The Peruvian Census of
1972 shows that only today is the population of what was then Chucuito
approaching pre-Conquest levels. The ecological setting, the pre-
Conquest population, and the Conquest history of the district of Sarata
are similar in every respect to that of Chucuito, and there is no reason
to assume that the dynamics of its population change have been signifi¬
cantly different. Given the limited production of the region, intensi¬
fication of agriculture could not continue indefinitely when population
was at high levels. Vertical patterns of exploitation have historically
been necessary for survival in the region, and they continued even after
depopulation, when land was abundant.

23
Historical Contact with the_Ce,ja de Sjlva
The Pre-Hispanic Roots
It has long been believed that the ceja de selva region of the
eastern Andes is, and has been, an uninhabited place. The soils of the
steeply sloped tropical rain forest were seen as too delicate to permit
more than a year or two of cultivation, prohibiting large settlements or
permanent occupation of any one region (Lanning 1967:197). The eastern
face of the Andes was considered to have been a natural barrier between
the aboriginal groups of the Tropical Forest and the high Andes.
Recent archaeological excavations have shown such assumptions
to be untrue. Large settlements, stone architecture and extensive
terracing have been found in association with highland ceramic traditions
in many parts of the ceja de selva below 1500 meters (Rydén 1952; Bonavia
1968; Lathrap 1970; Thompson 1968). Extensive systems of terraces and
large settlements at pre-Incaic sites in the Inambari Valley, near
Tambopata, provide evidence of heavy population pressure and intensive
agriculture as low as 800 meters (Isbell 1968). Lathrap (1970) has shown
that the lower ceja de selva was occupied by Tropical Forest groups from
1800 B.C. onward. Ethnographic and ethnohistorical work by Camino (1978)
and Gade (1972) has documented extensive contact and trade between
highland and lowland peoples, as has the discovery of Amazonian materials
in early highland archaeological sites (Wing 1972; Wassén 1972).
Murra (1964) has called attention to the exploitation of Peruvian
coastal valleys by the Aymara-speaking Lupaqa kingdom of the altiplano
in the 15th and 16th centuries. The Lupaqa were based on the south side

24
of Lake Titicaca, near the present-day town of Chucuito. They relied
on corn, fruits, cotton, and other products from the Pacific coast, as
did other Aymara-speaking kingdoms of the altiplano, such as the Pacajes
(Murra 1972). The Lupaqa gained access to coastal products through
seasonal migration to trade, and through the placement of small colonies
in the region. Their large herds of animals gave them a means of trans¬
port for the goods. Because of their many animals and access to a wide
range of products, the Indians of Chucuito became renowned for their
wealth. They became so famous, in fact, that during the first years of
the Conquest they were given a special status before the Spanish king and
were exempted from the encoinienda--or allotment of Indian labor to a
Spanish "guardian."
The Lupaqa, as well as the other chiefdoms of the altiplano,
also had access to land in the eastern Andean valleys. Saignes (1978) has
documented the presence of groups of Colla, Pacajes, and Lupaqa in the
fertile valleys of Carabaya, Ambana, and Larecaja in northern Bolivia and
southern Peru. As on the Pacific coast, the valleys were cultivated by
colonists, and the products, in this case mainly corn and coca, were
transported to the al ti piano by llama caravan.
The eastern Andean valleys, like those of the coast, were char¬
acterized by the multitude of ethnic groups which exploited them (Saignes
1978; Murra 1975). Their proximity, however, made them especially
important to the inhabitants of the northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca,
where the district of Sarata lies today. Friar Reginaldo de Lizarraga,
who passed along the northern lake shore in 1609, commented:

25
This province is heavily populated and for the most part
they are Puquinas; they are rich in camel ids and they par¬
ticipate [in the tribute system] with more corn and wheat
than those of the other part [the Lupaqa] because they have
at their left hand the province of Larecaja which abounds
in both these products. (1968:72)
The products of the valleys of Ambana and Larecaja are still of great
importance to the people of Sarata. The valleys are known collectively
to the inhabitants of the district as Wallisa, which in Aymara means "our
valleys." Although restrictions posed by the international border prevent
them from cultivating land there any longer, many families still travel
frequently to Wallisa to trade highland products for corn.
While ethnohistorical sources do not allow the exploitation of
lowland resources by peoples of the altiplano to be traced back further
than the Incaic period (see Figure 1-4) the research of Murra (1975) and
Saignes (1978) makes it clear that the colonies in the eastern valleys
were not mitmae sent by the Inca rulers. They were, on the contrary,
placed in the valleys and controlled by the regional powers of the
altiplano. This leaves open the question of the antiquity of such a
strategy, since it was not an importation of the Inca empire, but a
model native to the altiplano.
Recent archaeological work extends considerably the time frame
within which contact between the highlands and lowlands can be examined.
The Nino Korin finds, in the present-day department of La Paz, Bolivia,
provide evidence for early highland contact with the selva region. The
site, which lies only a day's walk from the district of Sarata, is clearly
from the Tihuanacoid period (approximately 600-1000 A.D.). A set of

26
AD
2000.
1950.
coffee
Figure 1-4. Major eras in the history and prehistory of the northern
altipiano and the Tambopata Valley

27
plant products and associated implements were found, which appear to
have belonged to a native healer (Wassén 1972). Several of the plants
are not native to the altiplano and the closest possible environment
in which they could have been found is in the lower part of the
Bolivian yungas. It appears likely that one plant specimen may have
been traded into the region from as far away as the eastern slopes of
the Ecuadorian Andes (Schultes 1972).
A Tihuanacoid settlement has also been discovered on the Apurimac
River, at the point where upstream canoe navigation becomes impossible.
Immediately below this highland settlement, a Tropical Forest Culture
site is found (Scott 1972). Lathrap (1973) suggests that such place¬
ment of Tihuanacoid settlements is not uncommon. It seems likely
from these sites that the altiplano-based Tihuanaco empire engaged in
active trade relationships with lowland peoples. Lathrap (1970) and
Lanning (1967) both give examples of even earlier interchanges between
highland and lowland cultures, but there has not yet been sufficient
archaeological research in the eastern Andes to speculate on the nature
or intensity of such interchanges.
Lumbreras (1974) has suggested that the effective use of
strategies of vertical exploitation, rather than conquest, many have
been responsible for the Tihuanacoid expansion. In the specific case
of the altiplano, the exploitation of lowland regions can first be
documented in conjunction with Tihuanacoid materials. In other parts of
the world the expansion and consolidation of complex, state-level
societies are associated with the intensification of agriculture. It

28
seems likely that on the altiplano it was linked to large-scale strate¬
gies of vertical exploitation.
For the chiefdoms which controlled the altiplano from the fall
of Tihuanaco to the time of the Inca conquest, the lowlands provided a
wealth of useful items: cotton, fruits, corn, peppers, spices, and
medicinal herbs, to name but a few. Under the Inca, for the first time,
gold began to be exploited in large quantities. The mines and rivers of
the Tambopata Valley were rich beyond imagination in this mineral. In
fact, the mines of Carabaya (as the Spanish designated the selva of Puno)
were known as "the most opulent of all of America" by the 17th century
(Bueno 1951; Maurtua 1906:1).
The Search for Gold and the Escape from Forced Labor
Under Inca domination, the large sites of gold excavation in
Carabaya were the property of the Inca himself and were worked by mitmae.
Gold which could be panned from the rivers and streams was designated as
property of the communities of the northeastern lake-shore, or more
properly speaking, of the communal authorities (Berthelot 1978). During
Inca rule, the people of Sarata panned for gold in the valley nearly
three months of every year, during "the time when their absence would
not be felt in the fields" (Jimenez de la Espada 1965:69).
The earliest Spanish encomenderos in the region, Felipe Gutierrez,
Francisco de Carvajal, and a Capitán Soto, saw this as a custom worthy of
continuation. They laid claim to the large excavations of gold, as
well as to that panned from the rivers. They relied on the altiplano

29
communities to provide the knowledge of the area, the techniques, and
the labor for the mining of the latter (Jimenez de la Espada 1965:69).
After the discovery of silver at Potosí in 1545, the labor of
sarateños was diverted to that enormous mining enterprise. The Spanish
did not neglect the gold of the valleys, however. The town of San Juan
del Oro was founded on the Tambopata River around 1547, probably by
fugitive Spaniards of the parties of Pizarro and Almagro (Raimondi
1883). Cieza do Leon noted in his chronicle of 1553 that the town of
San Juan had by that time sent out "more than 1,700,000 gold pesos."
One famous nugget which was shaped like a horse's head and weighed more
than 100 pounds won the title of "Villa Imperial" for San Juan (Bueno
1951). Catholic missions were also established in the valley by the
time of the expeditions of Juan Alvarez de Maldonado in the 1560s
(Maurtua 1906:11, 134), although the difficult terrain kept their activ¬
ity to a minimum for many years.
Another valuable lowland commodity produced by altiplano dwellers
under the Inca, if not earlier, was coca. Like the mining of gold,
the cultivation of coca was encouraged and perhaps expanded by the
Spaniards. Particularly after the opening of the mines at Potosí, coca
for the workers was considered essential and inhabitants of the north¬
eastern lake shore were sent to work in the coca fields of the Bolivian
.yungas.
Thierry Saignes has said, "after the Conquest, the Spanish tried
to impose a radically foreign spatial arrangement: in fixing the
Indians in their places of residence, they awoke the contradictions

30
whose stage was set under Inca policy" (1978:1168). it is true that
the Spanish had a concept of fixed residence, and that they tried to
impose this concept on the native population of the Americas. The
grouping of Indians into reducciones under Viceroy Toledo was but one
example of such policy. Despite their best administrative efforts, the
Spanish were never able to achieve the kinds of stable settlement
patterns which they had hoped would facilitate the execution of their
policies.
The incessant movement of the highland population of Peru and
Bolivia to avoid tribute and the mit'a (forced labor) has been docu¬
mented by Sánchez-Albornoz (1974). He estimates that as much as 60 per¬
cent of highland inhabitants may have been living outside their home
communities throughout most of the 17th century. A document which he
published dealing with the labor shortage which this situation was
causing for the mines of Potosí, in 1690, includes a reference to the
district of Sarata. In it, the captain of the town of Sarata testified
that the governor of the district was robbing the people of their lands
and that "for this reason the Indians have fled to different provinces
and the mit'a arrives so diminished in size" (Sánchez-Albornoz 1978:139).
Kubler has also commented on the movements of the forasteros, as
the mobile population was called. He noted that when the censused
Peruvian tribute population of 1628 was compared with that for 1754,
only 11 provinces gained in population. Three of these were the urban
centers of Lima, Cuzco,and Cajamarca. Seven of the remaining eight were
situated along the eastern Andean frontier. Kubler suggests that this

31
was a result of "eastward flight ... to new settlements in the
uncharted montaña," by people avoiding the mit'a and tribute payments
(1944:337).
Ulloa, in discussing the history of the southern Peruvian selva,
puts the matter plainly:
When the Spanish dominated Peru, it is probable, even
certain, that in the provinces of Cuzco and the Collao
there took place a strong out-migration toward these
[selva] regions. It is known that the Spanish authorities,
when they undertook the so-called reducción of tributadle
Indians, complained of the disappearance of immense
numbers of them: some declared explicitly that the In¬
dians took refuge and lodged themselves among the heathen
chunchus and others. (1899:19)
This strategy of retreating to the selva in times of adversity
is one which has continued to the present day. Large numbers of high¬
landers fled to the selva after all of the major Indian revolts on the
altiplano in order to avoid the subsequent repression. The last of these
revolts took place in the second decade of this century. The physician
Kuczynski -Godard, who visited the Tambopata Valley in the 1930s, commented
that the majority of its population was composed of refugees from the
1922-23 Indian uprising of the northern altiplano (1945:70). It would
seem unlikely that a strategy of taking refuge in the selva would be
practiced by people who had no experience in the region.
Missions, Quinine, and Rubber
Spanish missionization of the Tambopata Valley became more
active under the Bishop of Cuzco in the 1670s. The town of San Juan
del Oro had been destroyed in 1650, either by an earthquake or an
Indian invasion (Raimondi 1883) but had been reestablished by the

32
1670s, and other towns were built as well. Most of the Indians who were
missionized were of a group called the Toromona, who were slash-and-
burn agriculturalists and appear to have spoken a language of the
Tacana family (Maurtua 1906:11; Steward 1963).
The evangelization of the valley was considered a burden by the
earliest clerics. A group from La Paz had entered the region in the
1600s only to give up their efforts. The valley was too narrow either
for animals or agriculture, they said, and trips to bring in supplies
were difficult and dangerous. They redirected their efforts toward the
Larecaja Valley of present-day Bolivia where living conditions were
better.
Only with the discovery of quinine in the early 19th century did
missionization in Tambopata become intense. During this epoch a fierce
rivalry over mission rights sprang up between clerical groups of La Paz
and Cuzco. By 1806, Cuzco had given responsibility for the zone to
a missionary school in Moquegua, who were provided with instructions
and funds for the establishment or reducciones. Around this time, the
La Paz fathers reentered the valley, claiming that they had made first
contact with the Indians and therefore had the right to reduce them.
The dispute was brought to an abrupt end, however, when, as a result of
preliminary efforts to institute the new settlement pattern, the last
of the contacted Toromona succumbed to a wave of disease.
By the mid-18th century there were 29 Spanish settlements in
the Carabaya region. Large coca plantations had been established along
the Inambari River and gold mining and panning continued on a small

33
scale. In Larecaja and other valleys of the Bolivian yungas, people
from Sarata continued to cultivate land and exchange products, or to
work as laborers on the coca haciendas (Martinez 1969).
The early 19th century, as noted, brought quinine exploitation
to the valleys of the eastern Andes. While the curative properties of
cascarilla (Cinchona mecrantha, Cal i saya febrifuqa , and Cinchona bol i vi -
ana) for malaria had long been known to Europeans, confusion over the
exact identity of the bark had prevented its widespread use. Only when
the European colonial expansion into Africa in the 19th century created
an urgent need for an anti-malarial drug, were the scientific problems
resolved, and was widespread gathering of Cinchona for quinine begun in
the jungles of Latin America (McNeill 1976).
By the 1840s quinine had become one of Peru's most vital exports
The population of the a 1 ti piano participated in the gathering of casca¬
rilla. The most active participants were from Quecha-speaking areas
around Pucara. While many of the Quechuas entered as independent collec
tors or to establish tambos or trading posts, the Aymara of Sarata had
less voice in their entrance into the trade. After a regional uprising
in the 1860s against the reinstitution of personal tribute, large
numbers of saratehos were "deported" to the valleys of Carabaya (Vásquez
1976). While the deportation was nominally punitive in nature, it also
served to provide labor for the extraction of Cinchona bark.
Previous experience in the lowlands had made a 11i piano dwellers
aware of, but not immune to, lowland diseases and dangers. They knew
that in the rain forest environment the risks of malaria, uta

34
(leishmoniasis), respiratory disease and skin and intestinal ailments
were great. They also feared poisonous snakes and the wild animals
which at that time were still numerous in the valley. CIPCA (1976:25)
has suggested that during early colonizations of the Bolivian yungas
by altiplano peoples, colonizing households may have rotated frequently
to avoid these types of health problems.
In the oral history of the people of Sarata there are references
to the dangers encountered in the gathering of Cinchona bark. In
particular, the era of exploitation of quinine was known as "the time
when 'tigers' learned to eat people." Because the gatherers had to be
constantly climbing the steep slopes of the valley, many lost their
lives by plunging to the bottom of ravines. It is said that when
the "tigers'1 (probably jaguars) came upon these dead bodies and devoured
them, they acquired the taste for human flesh which causes them to hunt
human beings today.
The exploitation of quinine came to an end in the 1870s when
the wild Cinchona of the Peruvian selva became unable to compete with
the plantation-grown product of Java and Ceylon. Incense and copal,
which had been gathered in conjunction with quinine, also declined with
it. The valley returned to a pattern of small-scale gold exploitation,
which was now largely in the control of foreign interests.
By the turn of the century, rubber exploitation had replaced
quinine. The rubber of the eastern Andean valleys was of poor quality.
Exploitation in the valleys of Carabaya was confined to wild plants.
Rubber gathering was conceived of as a one-time, all-or-nothing enterprise,

35
and the rubber was not removed from the trees carefully. Most trees
were destroyed in the process (Martinez 1969).
The rubber industry in southern Peru was largely in the hands
of North American companies such as Inca Rubber, Tambopata Rubber, and
Compañia Forga. They recruited labor through local political officials.
The officials would bring together groups of young men, by persuasion
or by force, who were taken down to work in the valley. Although their
labor was contracted for a certain period of time at a certain price,
a person entering the valley in this fashion could be held in virtual
slavery. Once the agreed-upon period of labor was completed, it was
claimed that contractors would refuse to pay the workers. This meant
that they had no way of provisioning themselves for the return trip and
consequently could not leave the valley (Martínez 1969:419). Peruvian
rubber, like Peruvian quinine, quickly became anti-economical in the
face of new market developments, and even if it had not, the techniques
of exploitation applied to it in the Tambopata Valley made it a non¬
renewable resource.
The Twentieth Century
The 1920s were a period of violence and unrest on the northern
altiplano. A drop in wool prices and subsequent attempts at expansion
by haciendas in the region disposessed smallholders of significant
portions of their lands (Orlove 1976). At the same time, social changes
were being instigated by groups such as the North American Adventist
Church and the Lima-based Society for the Protection of Indian Rights.
These changes, which consisted mainly of the construction of schools

36
for the indigenous population, were actively opposed by local elites
who feared that the Indians might cease providing them with the labor
services and rent they were accustomed to receiving. This fear carried
some elite groups so far as to burn several of the newly constructed
Indian schools, an act which led to open defiance on the part of the
Indians and eventually to violence on the part of the elites.
Indians retaliated for the burning of the schools by marching
on the towns, where most of the elite families in question resided.
While no acts of violence were reported on the part of the indigenous
population, the "pacificatory" raids conducted by elite families were
a documented series of atrocities. As in the rebellion of Juan Busta-
mente in the 1860s, many hundreds of Indians were killed, their homes
burned, and their animals confiscated. There were public tortures and
executions in the plazas of all the towns on the northeastern side of
the lake and mass graves today mark the sites of the slaughter (Hazen
1974; Gallegos 1972; Luque 1977). Flight to the selva was virtually the
only way sarateños had to flee such repression. It is for this reason
that in 1937, Kuc2ynski-Godard found the majority of the population of
Tanbopata to be refugees from the aftermath of the 1923 uprising.
There was another group of people seeking refuge in the Tambo-
pata Valley in the 1930s. These were families from the Bolivian and
Peruvian altiplano who had been cultivating land in the Bolivian valleys.
In order to avoid conscription for the Chaco War, they left their lands
there and moved into Tambopata. It was with these settlers that the
first coffee, and the techniques for its cultivation, were introduced
into the region.

37
Throughout the 1940s the production of coffee was scattered and
quite small in scale. It attracted the attention of government officials,
however, and an Office of Indian Migration was opened in 1944. By the
mid-1940s, the Puno-Tambopata Project was begun as a program of the
Peruvian Indianist Institute. Its stated goals were to increase the
production and income of the Department of Puno, provide an alternative
to rural-urban migration, and to increase sovereignty over a relatively
uninhabited area. It was also suggested that migration might serve to
defuse the potentially explosive situation which had been left by the
repression of the 1923 uprising (Hazen 1974:308-9).
In 1946 a law was passed (Ley 1220, La Delegación de Tierras de
Montaña) which allowed highlanders to legally claim land in the valley
and by the 1950s several development efforts made the trip to Tambopata
easier. A road was constructed as far as Sandia, using government and
United Nations funds and voluntary local labor. The Puno-Tambopata
project began construction of health facilities and other services in
the valley (Martinez 1969). These efforts facilitated migration to
Tambopata and increased the number of highlanders who participated.
They acted on behalf of a movement which had, however, already been
initiated and whose direction and seasonality had been determined by
local needs.
A further factor which gave impulse to the migration of the
1950s was the agrarian reform of the Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario
in Bolivia. Peruvians who were cultivating, either permanently or
seasonally in the Bolivian yungas, could not receive allocations in the

38
new government's land reform. While a few families chose to remain
in the yungas, assume Bolivian citizenship, and continue cultivating,
most returned to Peru and many of those took up the production of
coffee in the Tambopata Valley.
More than any other factor, the Agrarian Reform in Bolivia
served to cut off the people of Sarata from their traditional lands in
the valleys of Ambana and Larecaja and other parts of the yungas. What
the reducciones, taxation, the creation of corregimientos, the institu¬
tion of an international boundary, and countless other measures had not
accomplished, this did. The relationship of the people of Sarata with
the Bolivian valleys became limited to commercial ties--the interchange
of products of their respective homes. While trading trips to the
valleys to obtain corn are still an important activity in most of the
district of Sarata, the trip to the yungas is considered by most people
to be too long and burdensome. The increasing availability of corn
from Cuzco in the local market makes purchase of this item an attractive
alternative to a six-day walk. Many present-day sarateños have relatives
who stayed in the Bolivian yungas in 1952, most of whom they have not
seen in more than twenty years.
A final stimulus to the migration to grow coffee in Tambopata
was the severe drought which dried up the altiplano .year after year toward
the end of the 1950s. By far the majority of people from Sarata who
migrate to Tambopata had their first contact with the zone, either on
their own or through a family member, during this period. The stories
which are told about this time reflect the horror of families facing

39
starvation. Food supplies stored for many years were used up. There
was no seed to plant and no food to feed the workers to open up the
land. By the time the drought ended in 1960, virtually every household
in the area had been forced to find some way to supplement their
decimated production, and the cultivation of coffee in the Tambopata
Valley had been taken up by many families.
The Altiplano Setting
The political environment. The district of Sarata lies in the
province of Huancané in the department of Puno in southern Peru. The
district is bordered on the east by the department of La Paz, Bolivia,
and on the south by Lake Titicaca. To the north, it approaches the
eastern range of the Andes and to the west lie the major cities of the
region.
Huancané, the provincial capital lies 50 kilometers or about a
two-hour truck ride away. For the people of Sarata it serves mainly as
a legal and administrative center. The town abounds with lawyers, judges
justices of the peace, notaries and scribes, who in the past made a good
living off the problems and legal disputes of an often illiterate peasant
ry. With the legalization of Indian schools in the 1920s, the level of
literacy among the population grew rapidly, as did their understanding
of legal and administrative matters. Currently the people of Sarata
will bypass Huancané whenever possible to seek legal services in Ouliaca,
or Puno, where judges and lawyers are felt to be better trained and less
dependent upon the exploitation of the rural population.

40
Juliaca, the regional center of commerce and transport, lies
50 kilometers beyond Huancané. It is a three-hour truck ride from
Sarata in the dry season, but may take as long as six hours in the
rainy season, when roads are in bad condition. Juliaca has only achieved
regional importance in recent years. The town's process of growth
began with the construction of the Southern Peruvian Railroad's Arequipa
to Puno line in the late 19th century. What had been a tiny hamlet of
500 people in 1876 (Appleby 1980) was a booming commercial center of
nearly 120,000 people in 1980 (Caretas 1980a).
Trucks leave Sarata for Juliaca at 2:00 every morning. They
arrive around sunrise at which time the passengers begin transacting
business, and they are ready to start the return trip to Sarata by
10:00 a.in. The largest number of people make the trip on Monday, which
is the day when the major market is held in Juliaca. Sarateños may buy
such things as analine dye, rubber sandals, or hardware, either for
their own use or to sell at smaller markets in the town of Sarata or in
one of its communities. They may sell products of Bolivian origin or
occasionally cheeses, eggs, or beans.
Juliaca is a center of transport as well as of commerce. This
is of no small importance considering the wide variety of places to
which sarateños find it necessary to travel. Tambopata and the valleys
of Bolivia are the most frequently visited regions, but some sarateños
travel to Lima, where they form a large percentage of the membership of
the street cleaners' union. Others travel for purposes of trade or
employment to Cuzco, Arequipa, Moquegua, or La Paz. They may travel to

41
work temporarily in the small mines of Pono or to the larger ones at
Toquepala in Tacna. They travel to work in the fishing industry in
places such as Ilo or Moliendo; to engage in commerce in Sicuani, Lampa,
Ayacucho, Huancayo, Abancay, and Iquitos; to trade in the coastal valleys
or Arequipa and Moquegua and of the ceja de selva of Cuzco; and to mine
for gold in Puerto Maldonado. The more adventurous people, who have made
money in transport or other business interests, are not strangers to
cities such as Santa Cruz, Bolivia; Buenos Aires in Argentina; or Sao
Paulo in Brazil. Virtually without exception the journeys made by
sarateños to these places are temporary--for the purpose of earning cash,
of trade or for some other type of business venture. Thus, the access
to larger networks of transportation provided by Juliaca is of great
importance. While train, bus, and air facilities are available, the
most popular means of transport are the literally hundreds of trucks
which enter and leave the Juliaca markets every day.
Juliaca's rapid growth and booming commerce caused Puno, the
departmental capital, to be overshadowed, at least in the eyes of
sarateños. Despite the fact that Puno lies only 40 kilometers beyond
Juliaca, and that the paved road connecting the two cities makes the
journey between them require less than an hour, people from Sarata
rarely have a reason to go there. With the exception of the highest
departmental officials, and the regional university, there is nothing in
Puno, in their perception, which cannot be acquired more easily and at
less cost in Juliaca.
This has not always been the case, for in the early part of
this century, steam transport linked the harbor of Puno with that of

42
Sarata and other small ports around the lake. Juliaca, lying inland,
was not a part of this transport network. A new road, constructed in
the 1940s, linked Juliaca with Sarata and the Bolivian border, at the
same time that steamship transport was ending. This effectively broke
the district's ties with Puno and there has been no reason since then
to reestablish them.
Political divisions within the district of Sarata are quite
complex. This is partly the result of political structures imposed at
different times by different governments, al 1 of which have left their
mark on the system which exists today. The district of Sarata is divided
into 12 ayllu. As a pre-Hispanic unit of social structure the ay11u
remains in many ways a mystery. Based on analogy with present-day
use of the term, Isbell (1978) has defined it as a unit within which
certain bonds of kinship are recognized. Early Spanish documents suggest
that it may also have had political functions (Soldi 1978). Zuidema
(1977) has suggested that the term a.yllu may have simply signified "a
group with a boundary" and may have been applied to social and political
groups of varying sizes and types.
The district of Sarata, like most of the rest of the Andes, pos¬
sessed a bipartite division as well, with six of its ayl1u falling into
each saya or part. The parts were called «"upisaya and Ch'iqasaya, or
part of the left and part of the right. Although both halves of the
district include diverse climatic and geographic subregions, sarateños
characterize K"upisaya as the zone of rich agricultural production and
Ch'iqasaya as the zone of animal wealth.

43
Within a few years of the Spanish Conquest, the ay i 1u system
had been adopted as an administrative tool. Despite the fact that many
ayllu had access to land that ran, discontinuously, from the lake shore
to the high altitudes near the eastern Andean range, people were known by
their ayllu membership. What ayllu a person belonged to was significant,
in other words, even though it told one little or nothing about where
they resided.
Only in the present century did ayllu begin to split apart, with
their component settlements establishing themselves as communities or
parcialidades. The most common motive for such action was to establish
each settlement as an independent unit in order that it might receive
its own school. The separation of an ayjju into communities was a
formal, legal process, involving a chartering of the new units and their
investment with the right to representation in the district government
by a teniente governador (lieutenant governor).
A few communities applied for formal recognition by the national
government's Office of Indigenous Affairs (prior to 1969) or through the
various organisms which handled that procedure under Peru's military
government (1968-1980). The benefits associated with recognized status
have varied throughout this century, from legal protection of land, to
technical assistance with development projects, but in no cases did the
recognized communities of Sarata receive any of these benefits.
The splitting apart of the ayllu has led to a binomial naming
system for communities and parcialidades. The ayllu name is retained,
but the unit is given an additional characterization to distinguish it

44
from the other subunits within the ayllu. For example, a community
formed out of the ayllu Q'arapata might become known as Waña Q'arapata--
"dry Q'arapata"--because of its lack of irrigation or access to water.
Janq'u Sikta--"white Sikta"--might refer to a part of an ayllu called
Sikta which is characterized by the salt flats within its boundaries.
The internal structure of the communities varies depending
on whether or not they have been officially recognized by the national
government. All communities have an appointed teniente, who acts as an
intermediary between the community and the district governor. Non-
recognized communities also have a president and other elected officials
who take care of community finances, organize work projects, see that
schools and other community buildings are maintained, etc. Recognized
communities have a Council of Administration (consejo de administración)
and Council of Vigilance (consejo de vigilancia) whose officers carry out
functions similar to those of the president, vice-president, etc. of
non-recognized communities.
Linder a law passed by the military government of 1968-1980, recog¬
nized communities must set aside some portion of their land to be worked
in common for the benefit of the entire community. In Sarata, this
land is often used to cultivate supplemental food crops for the schools.
Members of recognized communities are also prohibited by law from owning
land or working outside the community. This rule, if enforced, would
not only prevent the diversification of landholdings as a protection
against localized frost and hail; it would prevent temporary migration
to the urban centers to seek work and it would deny the sarateños access

45
to their lands in the Tambopata Valley. Fortunately, to date there has
been no effort made to enforce this rule, although theoretically, if a
community from Sarata were to apply for any type of government benefit,
it would be necessary to show that they were in compliance with this law.
The twelve ay 11 us and 38 parcialidades or communities are not the
only political units in the district of Sarata. In the mid-18th century
a series of small haciendas were carved out of the eastern part of the
district. These were mainly herding enterprises, and they relied more
heavily on sheep and cattle than native camelids. Under the agrarian
reform of 1969-75, the haciendas were expropriated and restructured into
a SAIS (Sociedad Agrícola de Interés Social or Agricultural Social Inter¬
est Society).
As officially defined, the SAIS was to be cooperatively run by
hacienda workers and members of surrounding communities. In terms of its
actual operations, the communities never participated in the SAIS, either
in the formal decision-making body or as a part of its labor supply. The
enterprise suffered such severe financial problems from its outset that
even the former hacienda workers who were its labor force had to forego
wages during the second and third years of its operation (Juan Lira
Condori , personal communication). The SAIS is currently completely
dependent on loans from the Peruvian government for its survival. Accord¬
ing to statements made in 1980 by the Minister of Agriculture of Peru's
new civilian government, collective enterprises which are not making a
profit will be reorganized again in the near future. It is not yet
clear, however, what a new reorganization will entail (Caretas 1980b).

46
The final political unit within the district is the town of
Sarata itself. The town, which is the district capital, has about 2000
residents, or approximately 10 percent of the population of the district.
As a political unit, the town, like the communities, has a teniente
gobernador. It also has a mayor and a town council which administer its
affairs. Fifty years ago, the town was the home of the regional mestizo
elite, who spoke both Aymara and Spanish and had ties both to people in
the communities and elite families at the departmental level. Until
recently this group controlled much of the commerce of the region, but
events of the past fifty years have changed this situation. Declining
opportunities in wool and agriculture forced the elites to the cities.
The young people of elite families left to receive an education and
never returned. The agrarian reform, or fear ot it, was the final factor
which loosed this group's control over the resources of the countryside.
At the same time the elites were leaving, the rural population was
taking advantage of new opportunities. People from rural communities
began to acquire capital from international commerce, and to gain
control of the district's transport facilities. When elite families
moved out of town and put their houses up for sale, people from rural
communities bought them. Having a house in town made it easier for
one's children to attend the district high school. Also since all
transport out of the district leaves at night, it made travel and commerce
more convenient.
The process of the old elite vacating the town and new entre¬
preneurial sectors from the communities moving in is not unique to

47
Sarata. It appears to be occurring in district capitals all around
Lake Titicaca (Father Domingo Llanque, personal communication). In many
ways, this movement is responsible for a revitalization of the towns.
The new inhabitants see them as their home and do not have the goal of
finding a position in the departmental capital and moving out as did so
many of the elite. They are thus more concerned about the town's main¬
tenance and the initiation of improvement projects. In 1980, the town
of Sarata had a hydroelectric plant, which produced electricity from 6 to
10 p.m., running potable water from a local spring, and well-equipped
health post. A sewage system was in the process of being installed.
Social stratification. The discussion of the town as a political
unit, inevitably leads to the topic of social class. The town-
countryside dichotomy has traditionally been the most important social
division in the district of Sarata (Painter 1981). Indigenous uprisings
have been frequent in the region from the 18th century to the 20th, and
these have invariably taken the form of the countryside marching on
the town with grievances and the townspeople retaliating with torture,
mass executions, and pillaging. This pattern began with the Tupac Amaru/
Tupac Katari uprisings of the 18th century, was continued with the cam¬
paign of Juan [Justamente in the 1870s and repeated again in the Tawantin-
suyu movement of the 1920s.
At the heart of these events lay the determination of a mestizo
town elite (misti) to maintain control of production in a region, where
they owned very little of the land. To do so, the elite attempted to

48
engage the people of the countryside in patron-client relationships of
a fiercely possessive type. They demanded extreme expressions of sub¬
servience and attempted to monopolize the Spanish language and the
educational system to their advantage (Painter 1981).
Town-countryside tensions have been reduced in recent years due
to the out-migration of the local elite. Control of commerce and vital
local services has given new economic power to former rural producers,
and members of the elite who have remained in Sarata have seen their
power diminish. Thus, while there is still a perception of a dichotomy
between the rural and urban populations, the economic basis of this
dichotomy is in the process of breaking down.
Language and ethnicity. The people of Sarata speak Aymara,
an indigenous language of Peru, Bolivia, and Chile which belongs to the
Jaqi language family (Hardman 1966). Everyone in the district, with
the exception of a few policemen assigned there temporarily, speaks
Aymara regardless of their social class, residence, or economic situa¬
tion. Approximately half of the district's population speak Spanish to
some degree, with the greatest number of speakers under the age of thirty.
While Aymara is the language of the home, of the community, and of the
regional marketplace, Spanish must be learned in order to have access to
most written materials, to attend to bureaucratic or legal matters and
for one's travels to other parts of the country. For commercialists,
some knowledge of Cuzco Quechua is also important, in order to do
business in the town of Juliaca, which lies in a Quechua-speaking region.

49
The linguistic situation of Sarata has historically been complex.
The northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca was primarily Puquina-speaking
in the early days of the Spanish Conquest (Lizarraga 1968; Espinosa
Soriano 1980). The first Spanish priest to permanently reside in Sarata
learned both Aymara and Puquina in the course of carrying out his duties
(Salazar Aguilar and Cuentas Collado 1965). It is not known, however,
who within the region spoke Aymara and Puquina, nor to what degree bi¬
lingualism in the two languages existed.
The imposition of Inca rule on the northern al ti piano, in the late
15th century, introduced even greater linguistic and ethnic diversity.
Because the region had resisted Inca domination for so long, not only a
colony of Inca administrators was established, but Huanca mitmae from
central Peru were brought to the region for the purpose of maintaining
control (Toledo 1975). Inhabitants of the Sarata region were also
exposed to many languages in their travels to other places and their
exploitation of lowland ecosystems.
The linguistic and ethnic diversity of the past are illustrated
in an important ceremony which takes place in Sarata in association with
the fiesta of the Virgin of Candelaria in February. In this ceremony,
which is called Qurawasiri--"the sling-shot duelers"—four groups bring
special offerings to the district governor and then participate in a
ritual slingshot duel which predicts their fortunes in the year to come.
The groups which participate represent the Uru, from the lake shore
region where the tasa de Toledo (1975) recorded Uru living in 1573; the
Quila, from the western part of the district near the heart of the

50
pre-Incaic Quila chiefdom; the Inca, from certain lake shore communities;
and the Kullawaya, from the herding zone in the northeastern part of
the district near the home of the present-day Kullawaya healers (see
Bastien 1973; Stark 1972).
While it is known that the Inca administrators spoke Quechua,
and that the Quila were Aymara-speaking, the languages which were asso¬
ciated with the Kullawaya and Uru have not been well established. Either
one or both could have been speakers of Puquina, but whether they were
or not is by no means clear. What is clear, however, is that there were
at least four well-defined ethnic groups inhabiting what is today the
district of Sarata at or around the time of the Spanish Conquest, and
that present-day sarateños are aware of these past ethnic divisions.
The actual participants in the slingshot dual (which is carried
out with peaches rather than stones) are said to have genealogies which
go back several hundred years and which link them to the groups in
question. Because their responsibilities are genealogically determined,
everyone in the district agrees that this is the one ritual office which
cannot be avoided. In 1980, some of the people whose participation was
necessary had converted to Seventh Day Adventism, and did not wish to
comply. Enormous pressure was placed on them by others in their commun¬
ities to insure that the ceremony would be carried out as usual.

CHAPTER TWO
SEASONAL MIGRATION AND HUMAN ADAPTATION:
THEORETICAL ISSUES
Human Adaptation
Introduction
An adaptation is, in the broadest sense of the word, a biologi¬
cal or behavioral adjustment that serves to benefit the survival or
reproduction of an organism or population in a given environment (Little
and Morren 1976:2). The process by which such an adjustment occurs, in
most cases, is also known as adaptation. Such a broad definition encom¬
passes the diverse types of adaptation studied by geneticists, physiolo¬
gists, demographers, ecologists, and anthropologists. It emphasizes the
interaction of organism and environment which all adaptive processes
share.
While many types of adjustments may prove to be adaptive in a
given setting, they do not all operate by the same mechanisms. In fact,
there are three basic levels on which adaptation can occur in human
populations. Genetic or evolutionary adaptation is a process by which
the genetic material of a population or group is altered cross-
generational ly. This is very different from acclimatization, which
refers to physiological and developmental changes which affect individuals
and occur within a single lifetime. Cultural and behavioral adaptive
mechanisms are extra-somatic--they are not, in other words, properties of
51

52
human anatomy and physiology. They reflect the use of the capacity for
culture which has evolved in human beings to solve the biological prob¬
lems of survival in a given environment. A1though they are distinct,
these forms of adaptation are not mutually exclusive. Rather, it has
been hypothesized that they act in conjunction with one another to pro¬
vide maximum adaptedness for an organism (Slobodkin 1968).
Genetic and Physiological Adaptation
Natural selection. The form of adaptation which most commonly
comes to mind when the concept is mentioned is genetic change. Genetic
adaptation operates through the process of natural selection. The basis
of natural selection is that individuals with different genetic consti¬
tutions have different chances for reproduction. Those individuals whose
genetic makeup is best suited to a given environment have more offspring
and pass on more of their genetic material. Unless sudden changes in the
environment occur, a population can be expected to become more and more
adapted, or suited to its environment, over time.
Natural selection is not, however, a creative force. It can
only operate opportunistically on the existing variation in genetic
material within a population. It cannot create favorable traits which
do not exist. A pest, for example, does not become resistant to a
pesticide simply by virtue of prolonged exposure. A trait which confers
resistance must be pre-existent in the population before it can be the
object of selection. The existence of variation, the selection of
favorable variants, and the maintenance of these variants are the neces¬
sary elements of evolutionary process.

53
Furthermore, while the changes brought about by natural selection
are favorable with relation to the environment in which they occur,
they are not flexible. A change in environment can, at times, render
them useless or even harmful. Among American blacks, for example, the
sickle-shaped hemoglobin cell which in Africa conferred resistance
against malaria when heterozygotic, and caused death when homozygotic,
lost its adaptive advantage in a malaria-free environment. It can take
many generations to compensate for an evolutionary trend that an environ¬
mental change has rendered maladaptive.
The inflexibility and long-term nature of genetically based
adaptation is overcome at least in part in human beings by the capacity
for short-term changes. Physiological and developmental adjustments are
one such mechanism relied on by humans and other organisms to allow
quick and often reversible adaptations to stressful^ environmental
situations. Culture and mental processes provide an additional means
of adaptation for humans, which is quickly mobilized and more flexible
than genetic change. The capacity for culture has given humans what
L. B. Slobodkin has called "an extremely high behavioral flexibility, in
which the flexibility itself is a genetic property." Slobodkin goes on
to say that "if flexibility is sufficiently high, it becomes almost
impossible for gene frequencies to be materially altered by specific
environmental pressures unless these are of extremely long duration and
extremely great force" (1976:58).
stressful situation is one which produces a deviation from
homeostasis in an organism. Homeostasis is the maintenance of constant
internal conditions in the face of a varying environment.

54
The circumvention of natural selection by increased behavioral
flexibility has been bemoaned by some as enabling persons to survive who
are physically, mentally, or morally weaker than the average. It is
true that our cultural capabilities enable individuals to successfully
mitigate environmental stresses which would otherwise prove overwhelming
to some members of the population. But that is precisely the significance
and value of cultural adaptation. It allows us to inhabit a far wider
range of environments and to overcome many more hazardous and stressful
situations than would be possible with purely genetic control.
Acclimatization. Acclimatization, as previously mentioned,
refers to short-term capabilities in humans and other organisms to respond
to external stresses. Acclimatory responses, in general, act to maintain
homeostasis, or constant internal conditions in the face of a varying
environment. At their most modest level, such responses occur over a
period of days or weeks, and are reversible. An example of such a change
is the enlargement of muscles from frequent use. Dozens of body responses
which occur on a daily basis, such as perspiration to reduce body
temperature, can be viewed as acclimatizations of this type.
A second type of acclimatization is developmental. Developmental
alterations occur in response to environmental conditions during an
individual's growth period, and may be physiological or morphological in
nature. One of the most well-known examples of developmental acclimatiza¬
tion is the enlargement of heart and lungs in people who grow and
develop at high altitude.

55
Cultural Adaptati on
The evolution of a capacity for culture. In human beings,
behavior often acts as a buffer against environmental pressures, and,
unlike in other animals, such behavior is more often ordered by the prin¬
ciples of a given culture than by patterned instincts. The capacity for
cultural behavior is a result of a long evolutionary process in humans.
It was a process in which a central nervous system and neocortex of com¬
plexity unknown in other animals was developed.
The development of these features did not occur overnight. As
Clifford Geertz has said, there was no marginal genetic change that
rendered humans capable of producing and carrying culture so that there¬
after our adaptive response to environmental pressures was almost
exclusively cultural rather than genetic (1973:47). As cultural behavior
developed, and increased the complexity of the environment in which
proto-humans and early humans found themselves, it forced further
development of a cultural capacity. The use of tools, organized hunting
and gathering practices, the beginnings of family organization and the
reliance on symbolic communication such as language, provided positive
feedback for long-term evolutionary processes. A selective advantage
was given to those who were most able to take advantage of new cultural
behaviors--to become more adept toolmakers, efficient hunters, or
resourceful leaders (Washburn I960; Hall owe 11 1959; Geertz 1973).
2
Positive feedback refers to the flow of information or energy
from one component of a system to another which readjusts and reorgan¬
izes the system along new lines.

56
Culture is an evulved biological capacity which gave humans a
tremendous advantage in solving biological problems. Yet it operates
on principles which are somewhat different from the laws of matter and
energy in the biological world. Culture is essentially an informational
system, based on the recognition of significant differences (Bateson
1972). To behave culturally one must use codes and manipulate symbols
(Pike 1964; Goodenough 1964; Hall 1959; Leach 1976). The sounds we utter
in the simplest speech act bear no direct relation to the things about
which we speak. They are systems of non-iconic symbols.
While our capacity for this type of symbol manipulation has
evolved, there is no evidence to suggest that culture itself does. Despite
this fact, a good deal of anthropological theory in the past hundred years
has centered around the concept of cultural evolution. Many investiga¬
tors, impressed by the explanatory power of evolutionary theory, postu¬
lated that mechanisms similar to natural selection could be at work in
culture. This idea, as it originated in the work of Herbert Spencer
(1883) was based on the proposition that individuals or societies with
favorable characteristics would survive and grow (or reproduce) while
those with inferior traits would die out.
Anthropologists have proposed diverse mechanisms by which a
hypothetical selection process could operate. White (1959) suggested
that increased per capita use of energy was the criterion by which
certain groups achieved selective advantage. Lewis Henry Morgan (1963),
Steward (1955), and Sahlins and Service (1960) did not attempt to specify
a universal selective principle, but assumed a general evolutionary trend
of increasing complexity.

57
More recent attempts to deal with human adaptation in terms of
a selective process for cultural traits are studies of "co-evolutionary
process" (Durham 1976); "culture as a parallel system of inheritance"
(Richerson 1977); "bio-cultural evolution" (Ruyle 1973); and "Lamarckian
evolution" (Cohen 1981). These types of explanation reason that evo¬
lutionary theory is about process, and is independent of the genetic
mechanisms which have been found to corroborate its operation. All that
is necessary, they say, is to appropriately define cultural "traits" and
cultural "species," and identify sources of variation, criteria of
selection and mechanisms of retention. Once this is done, the study of
cultural evolution and human adaptation can proceed by analogy with
natural selection.
The fruitfulness of this approach has been questioned (Dickemann
1981; Medewar 1981). Alland has noted that "analogies, however useful as
heuristic devices, cannot extend a theory into new territory. . . . The
operating rules of those process mechanisms that produce culture are not
the same as those which produce biologically determined somatic or
behavioral traits" (1967:191). Furthermore, reasoning by analogy in
All and's view gives culture a superorganic nature, and obscures the true
continuity between biological and cultural processes. When cultures are
set up as equivalent to species, he said, it is easy to forget the role
that human beings play as a species themselves. The consideration of
innovation as analogous to mutation is not only erroneous from the
point of view of the great differences in the way the two processes
operate. It also focuses our attention on an undocumented evolutionary

58
dynamic in culture itself, rather than on the way in which innovations
solve biological problems and thus confer selective advantages to humans
by allowing more of them to survive and reproduce.
The identification of cultural adaptations. In order to look at
the interaction between environment and culture in a more direct way,
most anthropologists felt it necessary to decide on certain realms of
human behavior which were likely to be most closely related to survival
in a given environment. Julian Steward (1955) suggested that the inter¬
action of culture and environment could best be understood by focusing
on a "cultural core" of items and practices most directly related to
human subsistence. Different environments, he felt, required different
technologies, uses of land, or social features in order to be brought
into production successfully. These core elements of culture could be
understood in relation to the environmental context in which they operate.
Steward assumed that while environment had a strong influence on the
elements of the cultural core, there were other superorganic aspects of
culture that were more or less free to take whatever form people wished
to give them.
Steward's approach gave rise to the tradition within anthropology
known as cultural ecology. The work of cultural ecologists has focused
on ascertaining, in the words of Steward, "whether the adjustments of
human societies to their environments require particular modes of
behavior, or whether they permit latitudes for a range of possible
behavior patterns" (1955:36). Most cultural ecological studies, following
Steward's definition of "cultural core," have limited their investigation
to a narrow range of patterns of technology and resource use.

59
Little and Marren (1976) have criticized narrow definitions
of the types of behavior that are related to human adaptation. They
have suggested that researchers investigating human adaptation should
have an interest in any "cultural and biological factors, processes and
cycles that affect or are directly connected with the survival, repro¬
duction, development, longevity, or spatial position of people." They
note that "ample provision exists within this framework for the study
of such cultural factors as ideology, values, motivation, linguistic
categories, personality, ritual and the like, insofar as particular mani¬
festations of these influence the interaction of human population with
its environment or affect the biological characteristics of that human
population" (1976:5).
In a model for human life support structures, Little and Morren
(1976) emphasize the role of such practices as marriage prescriptions
and proscriptions, social rules that define sexual maturity, and beliefs
that lead to periods of celibacy, in altering the size and structure
of local human populations. Also included in their model are practices
that modify risk of exposure to conception and that affect the proba¬
bility of a successful pregnancy and live birth; practices that
affect the speed and degree of physical and behavioral maturity, and
those which affect nutrition, disease transmission and risk of death.
Adaptive strategies which are relevant include movements in response to
environmental parameters, agriculture and other practices which alter
the environment to make biotic resources more availabl e, strategies of

60
exchange and distribution of goods, and practices which substitute
the work of livestock or machinery for human labor.
This model considers much more cultural behavior of relevance
to adaptation than do most studies of cultural ecology. In particular,
more attention is given to practices which affect the rate of reproduc¬
tion and the size and composition of local groups. The demographic com¬
position of populations was particularly neglected in Steward's defini¬
tion of a cultural core (Moran 1979:44). Nevertheless, in attempting
to specify aspects of human culture which affect survival and population
growth, and in sotting these apart from other aspects which are con¬
sidered not to be relevant, Little and Morren (1976) create the same
separation as Steward between the organic and superorganic realms of
human behavior. They are only defining the organic realm somewhat more
broadly.
All aspects of a given culture are potentially relevant to sur¬
vival in a given environment. This does not mean that all behaviors will
necessarily be of adaptive significance, but it does mean that there
are no classes of behavior that can be excluded from an investigation of
adaptation a priori. The identification of cultural behaviors which
influence a group's adaptedness can only be determined in an empirical
manner. Observation of the migratory activities of the Aymara of Sarata
revealed that this adaptive strategy was organized by kinship and intra¬
community relationships. The Aymara believe men and women to be equally
strong and productive members of society, and this belief reinforces their
flexible division of labor and the fact that each household member can

61
make themselves responsible for the full range of productive activities
in either the highland or the lowland environment. These aspects of
Aymara culture are of great relevance to behaviors which can be shown
to be adaptive.
This is a point of view which has been expressed by Godelier
(1978) with regard to the distinction in Marxist analyses between super¬
structure and infrastructure. He says that there is nothing inherent
about a given behavior that makes it more or less tangible or more or
less material than any other. The important consideration is whether the
behavior can be empirically shown to be important to the reproduction of
social life. Thus, Godelier argues, thought and language have wrongly
been excluded from studies of production and reproduction, since they not
only reflect reality but organize every kind of social practice on the
basis of this reality . . ."(1978:764). Thought, which cannot occur in
the abstract, but only in the context and with the tools of a given cul¬
ture and language, not only perceives the environmental reality in which
a population lives, but organizes the way the population will come to
terms with it. Yet belief structures, language, and a population's view
of the world, are among those cultural phenomena most often called
superstructure, or superorganic, or otherwise considered irrelevant to
human adaptation.
Limiting the aspects of culture to be considered can also hinder
analysis of adaptive processes by obscuring the interrelationships between
cultural elements. As Winterhalder (1980) has cautioned, "culture,
including the parts of cultural behavior that can be termed adaptations,

62
rests on highly integrated and cohesive systems of belief, which can
resist rapid alteration of isolated elements or groups of elements.
Change requires systematic adjustments of multiple interrelationships
of belief, behavior, and goals, all of which require time"(1980:138).
This is an understanding which has long been part of anthropological
theory, but which has often become obscured in discussions of adaptive
behavior.
Culture is not simply the sum total of individuals' predisposi¬
tions and decisions, as some investigators have suggested (Bennett 1974).
Culture has systems properties, and the existence of a coherent cultural
system means that an individual can carry out most daily activities
without having to stop and calculate at every turn whether a behavior is
rational or not. It also means that an individual can benefit from the
special knowledge or specialized skills of other members of his or her
group without having to develop those skills themselves. Cultural beliefs
and practices can be transmitted and do not have to be reinvented over
and over again. All of these are factors which have given culture
adaptive significance. Certain elements of a culture may not be directly
related to survival and reproduction, but they may heavily influence
other behaviors which are. Again, all aspects of culture are potentially
of importance to adaptation, and those which are, in any given circum¬
stances, must be empirically determined.
The functioning of cultural adaptations â–  When studying cultural
adaptive behavior, it is important to remember that some actions of
people or groups are carried out with the conscious goal of remedying

63
an environmental problem, while other actions affect their relationship
to the environment in an unrecognized or unconscious way. Alland (1967:
205) has distinguished between teleological or purposive adaptations
and those which are non-teleological. Teleological adaptations are those
purposive behaviors which are often referred to as strategies. They
represent the conscious planning and ingenuity of individuals or groups
in the face of an environmental problem. The development and improvement
of technologies, the decision to send some family members to the city
to earn cash, the keeping of herds as a reserve fund, or the choice of a
marriage partner from another community in order to diversify landholdings,
all are examples of such conscious efforts.
The analysis of teleological adaptations is often considered more
or less straightforward. In most cases the persons involved can clearly
explain why a particular action was necessary. When they cannot, it is
often because the reasoning behind it is so obvious to them that it is not
easily verbalized. Occasionally some, but not all, of the members of a
community or culture may understand the rationale for a behavior. Thus,
a given actor may perform an act out of custom alone, but the conscious
reasoning behind it is known within his or her larger group. It must be
remembered, however, that the conscious reasoning involved is the
reasoning of a specific language and culture. Environmental conditions
are perceived through the grid of that language and culture, and the
strategies designed reflect past cultural experience and do not neces¬
sarily have anything to do with Western logic.
A further problem in the analysis of consciously designed strate¬
gies is that they may or may not be effective. In a given setting they

64
may not be sufficient to meet a stress. This is most often true when
the stress is sudden and new (Vayda and McCay 1975). It is also possible
that the source of the stress is misperceived, that the response is
inappropriate, or that the response itself creates new problems.
Non-teleological adaptations present still more difficult prob¬
lems. Moore (1965), Harris (1966), and Rappaport (1968) have all dealt
with examples of behaviors whose adaptive consequences were unanticipated
by their perpetrators. Moore explained the way in which a divinatory
ritual performed by the Montagnais-Naskapi before hunting served to
randomize game exploitation and prevent overhunting a region. Harris
(1966) showed how Hindu religious beliefs which prevented cattle
slaughter were beneficial, since other products provided by the animals
(milk, labor, dung, etc.) were of greater value to the population than
their meat alone would have been. Rappaport, in his study of the Maring
of New Guinea, postulated that ritual served to regulate the slaughter
and use of pigs.
If it is to be assumed that these favorable situations are not
the result of pure coincidence, then it is necessary to propose a process
or mechanism by which they came to be. Rappaport proposed that in the
3
case of the Maring, a system of negative feedback maintained pigs,
people, and environment in equilibrium. The ritual cycle of the Maring,
in Rappaport's view, served as a sensing device or "homeostat" to begin
a complicated cycle of pig slaughter and warfare which redistributed
resources and restored equilibrium to the system.
3
A flow of energy or information from one part of a system to
another, which allows for its return to a previous equilibrium state.

65
This interpretation has been frequently criticized, most notably
by Friedman (1974, 1979) who says that it is unnecessary to postulate
such a complex regulatory mechanism. According to Friedman, the decision
to slaughter pigs and begin warfare could have been, and most probably
was, based on the people's perceptions of how many pigs could reasonably
be accumulated, and on the level of social conflict.
If cybernetic.models are inappropriate, then the question of the
way in which non-purposive adaptations operate remains. Richerson (1977)
and Friedman (1974) have argued that such adaptations cannot be under¬
stood synchronically but that one must look at the historical develop¬
ment of the trait or activity or process in question. Practices or
beliefs, which are adaptive in a non-teleological fashion in present-day
situations, may have arisen as conscious attempts to solve past problems.
Harris (1979:248-253) gives an example of this. In answering
criticisms of his previous functional explanation of taboos on cattle
slaughter, he presented the historical context for the origin of the
custom. He related the emergence of the taboos on consuming beef to a
period of intensification of agriculture in Indian history, when the
labor of cattle as draught animals became vital. While the taboo forces
a more energetically rational use of cattle at present, people apparently
do not recognize the energy efficiency of the taboo but obey it out of
religious devotion. It cannot be assumed in such situations that there
is any mechanism in culture which assures the continued transmission
of the adaptive behavior without a conscious recognition of its benefits.
To argue that this is so is to rely once again on explanations based on
negative feedback and non-verified cybernetic systems.

66
Winterhalder (1980) has emphasized this point. He stresses that
adaptations always reflect the action of past environments on the socio¬
cultural information that gives rise to human behavior. For this
reason, extant behavior only partially reflects or is fitted to present
circumstances. People may retain past ways of solving problems posed by
their environments, which are crystallized in their religious taboos,
their kinship structure or their ritual cycle. As environments change,
these solutions to past problems may not retain their adaptiveness,
and new solutions must be devised. There is always a lag, however, and
for this reason it is important that analysis of adaptations concern
itself with historical process. As Winterhalder has said, non-dynamic
analyses of adaptation risk matching observed behaviors to the wrong
causes.
Prior studies of migration from the altiplano of Puno provide a
good example of analyses which correlate present behaviors with present
environmental problems, and thus miss the true causes of the behavior
(Kuczynski-Godard 1945; Metraux 1956; Martinez 1969; Instituto Nacional
de Planificación 1979). As discussed in Chapter One, previous studies
have always claimed that increased population pressure on the al tipi ano
within the past thirty to forty years has made such movement necessary.
The migratory movements, however, have a history which is far longer
than the problems of population pressure such authors have referred to.
The need to exploit lowland ecological zones is deeply rooted in the
past and this suggests that some environmental stress of longer duration,
such as low productivity and energy scarcity, has given rise to migra¬
tory behavior.

67
Adaptation on the Southern Peruvian Altiplano
Stresses and responses. The altiplano of southern Peru and
northern Bolivia has often been cited as an important setting for the
study of adaptation because of the number of stresses or problems which
the environment poses for the human population. Vayda and McCay (1975),
among others, have recently proposed that most adaptive traits arise in
response to crisis situations caused by stress. On the altiplano, both
short-term, acutely stressful situations and more subtle long-term
pressures have led to adaptations on the part of the population.
There are three basic sources of stress for altiplano dwellers.
At altitudes of 12,500 feet (approximately 3800 meters) the partial
pressure of oxygen is reduced to 60 percent of its value at sea level.
At such reduced pressures, a condition of hypoxia is created for humans
and other animals, in which body tissues do not receive sufficient amounts
of oxygen. For non-adapted visitors to the altiplano, this condition
causes shortness of breath, dizziness, nausea, headaches, loss of
appetite, and occasional mental impairment and visual problems. While
other forms of climatic stress can usually be buffered behaviorally to
some extent, there are no such means for reducing the effects of low
oxygen pressure.
Cold stress is a second problem for inhabitants of the al ti piano.
In particular, body heat must be guarded against low nighttime tempera¬
tures, which may drop to 0°C (32°F) any night of the year. The third
major stress factor is related to both low oxygen pressure and cold
stress. These factors, together with periodic climatic events such as

68
drought and hail and incidental factors such as poor soils, reduce
primary productivity on the altiplano. This low biological productivity,
or energy-deficiency, makes the subsistence situation for the inhabi¬
tants of the altiplano quite precarious.
In the 1960s and early 1970s a program of intensive research on
human adaptation to high altitude was carried out by the International
Biological Program in Nuñoa, Puno, Peru. The initial hypothesis of the
project were based on assumptions that the native population of the
altiplano was adapted to life at high altitude and that this adaptation
was largely a result of acclimatory mechanisms which had some genetic
basis.
Nearly two years of research demonstrated that this was not the
case. What researchers found was a whole series of adaptive mechanisms
operating at the levels of physiology and culture. There has been no
firm evidence of genetic adaptedness among the population to date,
although it appears to be experiencing strong selective pressures due to
high child mortality (Dutt 1976).
It was found that hypoxic stress was mitigated for newcomers to
the altiplano by short-term acclimatizations. The most important of
these is an increase in the body's production of oxygen-carrying hemo¬
globin cells. For natives of high altitude, acclimatization also in¬
cludes a reduced affinity of hemoglobin for oxygen which allows it to be
released more easily to tissues, and developmental factors such as an
increase in heart size and lung capacity. These and several other
short-term mechanisms allow the same amount of oxygen to be delivered

69
to body tissues per minute for altiplano dwellers as for low-altitude
natives at sea level (Velasquez 1976).
Cold stress is responded to primarily by use of warm alpaca and
sheep's wool clothing, by solidly constructed adobe homes, and by timing
work activities to avoid exposure to nighttime and early morning tempera¬
tures. It is also mitigated by a slightly elevated basal metabolic rate,
and a resultant warmer body core temperature, and by higher levels of
blood flow to the extremities than found for sea level residents. All
of the latter are physiological responses and do not appear to have a
genetic basis (Little 1976).
Energy deficiency or low biological productivity was not studied
as intensively by Nuñoa researchers as the other stresses. Thomas (1972)
established that the population was in a very precarious energetic
situation. His research was carried out in a year of normal agricul¬
tural production and thus he did not observe the effects of periodic
events, such as severe droughts, in reducing productivity, but only the
constant reduction of primary productivity to cold and low oxygen avail¬
ability. Thomas felt it likely that reduced adult body size and a
slow and prolonged growth pattern serve to lessen the consequences of
reduced energy availability. He also suggested that several observed
behavioral strategies might be of value as buffers against the stress of
reduced energy availability. These included a division of labor relying
heavily on children, reduced activity levels, a multiple resource base,
inter-zonal exchange, and migration.
To better understand the nature of the altiplano population's
current adaptive situation, it is helpful to return to a model proposed

70
by L. B. Slobodkin (1968) which was mentioned previously. Slobodkin
has suggested that cultural, physiological, and genetic adaptive mechan¬
isms are integrated into a cybernetic system. His model is based on the
suggestion of Bateson (1963) that there exists an economy of flexibility¬
restoring mechanisms in which slow deep-seated physiological changes
restore an organism's ability to use short-term, rapid mechanisms in
a flexible way.
Slobodkin suggests that an organism first responds to a pertur¬
bation or stress on a behavioral level. If this effectively relieves
the stressful condition, no further change occurs. If the behavioral
response cannot nullify it, then physiological responses will come into
play. Reliance on these responses then restores a measure of flexibility
to the behavioral level.
If the perturbation continues unabated it will increase the
mortality and decrease the fecundity of the population. This gives
increased opportunity to natural selection, since genotypic frequencies
will to some extent determine who lives and dies. While this decreases
population, a large proportion of well-adapted persons survive, and this
group, in turn, has had physiological flexibility "restored" to it. Any
recurrence of the perturbation in the future would lead to relatively
less genetic change. The genetic change, it must be remembered, does
not represent an improvement, but is an adjustment to the disturbing
event, made opportunistically on the basis of the genetic material at
hand.
This model provides a way of approaching the problem of adap¬
tation on the altiplano. According to the model, organisms will deal

71
with stress whenever possible with behavioral mechanisms which are the
most flexible and easily mobilized. Only if these fail will other
mechanisms come into play. The effects of hypoxia, as previously noted,
cannot be dealt with on a cultural or behavioral level. Thus, physio¬
logical mechanisms operate to provide resistance for the highland dwellers.
To date, however, there is no evidence for a genetically based adaptation
to lack of oxygen. This is the area where the researchers at Nuñoa most
expected to find genetic change had occurred (Baker 1976:14-15).
Cold stress, on the other hand, can be significantly mitigated
by behavioral and cultural means, and is largely handled in this way by
the al ti piano population. Apparently, however, the behavioral responses
developed were not always sufficient, since physiological changes related
to cold stress are found in persons who grew up at high altitude. The
same is true of adaptation to energy deficiency. The diverse behavioral
mechanisms suggested by Thomas are operative, as material presented in
subsequent chapters will show. These mechanisms provide a significant
degree of resistance for the population. Nevertheless physiological
changes related to energy deficiency, such as smaller body size, do
occur, and this suggests that the behavioral mechanisms have not been
completely efficacious or have not been effective at all times. Again,
however, no basis for a genetic interpretation of these changes has been
found.
Seasonal migration and adaptation to high altitude. Theodosius
Dobzhansky has said that "every organism has an adaptedness to live in
a range of environments. Adaptedness to only a single constant

72
environment would lead quickly to extinction, because environments are
not constant. Therefore, every living species is made by natural
selection adaptable to the range of environments which it encounters
regularly, or at least at frequent intervals in its natural habitats"
(1977:182). It is perhaps in this statement that an explanation for the
absence of genetic adaptations to high altitude among altiplano dwellers
can be found.
Patterns of migration to lowland regions engaged in by altiplano
dwellers were documented in the preceding chapter for times of at least
as far back as the Tihuanacoid Empire. Lumbreras (1974:40) and Lanning
(1967:47) have described patterns of seasonal movement between highlands
and lower valleys for some of the earliest inhabitants of the Andes.
Lanning notes that the caves at Lauricocha in the Callejón de Huaylas
in northern Peru, which date from 7500 B.C., were occupied seasonally.
Their inhabitants apparently moved cyclically from the high altitudes
at which the caves are found, to lower valleys and possibly even to the
lomas or temporary oases, on the coast. Given such movement patterns, a
genetically based adaptation to high altitude would not have made sense
for altiplano dwellers or other natives of high altitude areas in the
Andes.
It has always been necessary for highlanders to seasonally
exploit lowland valleys in order to guarantee their subsistence. This
is a behavioral adaptation to the environmental stress of energy
deficiency. The longevity and importance of this principle are attested
to by the fact that natural selection has apparently not given advantage

73
to individuals who are in some way better suited to life on the alti¬
plano, but that adaptedness is achieved by physiological mechanisms.
To continue the quote from Dobzhansky (1977:182), "inhabitants of the
temperate zones have to survive winters as well as summers, and of the
tropics, rainy and dry seasons." In the same way inhabitants of the
altiplano have had to survive life in the lowland valleys as well as at
high altitude. Genetic adaptedness to the latter would almost inevitably
carry with it a reduced adaptedness to the former. Thus, an individual
with a specialized genetic adaptation to high altitude would have reduced
chances of surviving and reproducing were they to migrate to the lowlands
to deal with nutritional stress caused by the energy-deficiency of their
environment. It is in keeping with Slobodan's model of adaptive systems
that are hierarchically and cybernetically organized, that adaptation
on one level feeds back to another in order to maintain the entire
adaptive system in harmony.
The Role of Energy in Human Adaptation
Energy in natural selection. Energy is a necessary component
of all processes. It initially reaches the earth as sunlight where it
is responsible for heating and producing plant food through photosyn¬
thesis. It also, in an indirect way, generates winds, waves, and the
coal and petroleum reserves in the ground. Every process or change that
occurs on earth is accompanied by a transformation of energy from one
form to another. It is this broad understanding of energy, rather than
a recognition of its specialized functions in nutrition, or as fossil

74
fuel or electric power, which underlies attempts to relate it to evolu¬
tion, human adaptation, and the functioning of ecosystems.
Energy has many forms. Those that are most familiar are mechan¬
ical, chemical, radiant, and heat energy. Each of these forms has its
own units of measurement in our scientific tradition. In all of its
forms energy can he defined as the ability to do work. In all of its
forms it obeys the laws of thermodynamics. The first of these says that
energy cannot be created or destroyed, but only changed in form and
quality. The second expresses the principle that entropy, or disorder,
always increases in real processes; in other words, that energy becomes
dispersed and of lesser quality in any transformation.
While the involvement of transformations of energy in all
processes is unquestionable, there is still a lack of consensus among
researchers in various disciplines on the extent to which energy is
determinative of those processes. In 1922, E. J. Lotka suggested that
the efficient use of energy resources could serve as a universal
measure of an organism's adaptedness. "In the struggle for existence,"
he said, "the advantage must go to those organisms whose energy-capturing
devices are most efficient in directing available energy into channels
favorable to the preservation of the species" (1922:47). This view is
currently most closely associated with the work of H. T. Odum (1971).
While it has not been generally accepted in the ecological or social
sciences, it has opened the question of the role played by energy in
the evolution and adaptation of human groups.

75
There is considerable continuity between the view of Lotka and
those of Leslie White (1959). White applied Lotka's assertion that
the struggle for existence was a struggle for energy to human popula¬
tions in attempting to develop a model of cultural evolution. He argued
that culture was a material system and thus subject to the laws of
thermodynamics. Cultures varied according to White, in their ability to
harness energy as they drew it from outside themselves and incorporated
it into their systems. By measuring their effectiveness at this task,
he considered it possible to postulate a series of stages of cultural
development which were linked to the type and quantity of energy use.
Animal husbandry, he suggested, harnessed more energy than hunting and
gathering; agriculture was superior in this way to animal husbandry; and
a mixed agropecuarial system was the most effective of all.
The universality of energy efficiency as a measure of adaptation,
or of cultural evolution has not gone unquestioned. Colinvaux (1973)
disagrees with the statement that animals and plants have evolved
primarily as efficient converters of energy, since the pressures of
natural selection are for survival and reproduction and not for any
particular quality. While efficient use of energy is often a selective
advantage, effective use of nutrients, insurance of mating, safe winter¬
ing, or growth and dispersal may be of great importance in any particular
case. Vayda and McCay (1975) have reiterated this view and have
extended it to human populations. They suggest that while energy may
be the most important factor in survival on the Peruvian altiplano, or
for sisal workers in Brazil, water may be for the !Kung, or resistance
to the anopheles mosquito for the Tsembaga Maring.

76
Energy as a limiting factor. Many of the objections to the
assumption that energy is universally maximized in adaptive processes
are based on a concept of limiting factors. This concept was first
enunciated by Justus Liebig in the 19th century as the Law of the
Minimum. Simply stated, the principle is that organisms are limited by
the factor in shortest supply.
Eugene Odum (1975) has restated Liebig's Law in a way that takes
into account both energy and other factors.
The success of a population or community depends on a com¬
plex of conditions; any condition that approaches or exceeds
the limit of tolerance for the organism or group in question
may be said to be a limiting factor. Although the quantity
and quality of incoming energy and the laws of thermodynamics
set the ultimate limits, different ecosystems have different
combinations of other factors that may put further limita¬
tions on biological structure and function. (1975:108)
In this passage, Odum distinguishes between the role of energy as a neces¬
sary force in all processes and its role as a factor which is in limited
supply. While the former is universally applicable, the latter must be
decided for each specific situation.
This is similar to the point made by Slobodkin (1972). He dif¬
ferentiated adaptive effectiveness and energetic efficiency. Acts which
are adaptively effective, like all actions, have an energy cost, but
this cost is probably not of interest to an analysis of adaptation
unless energy is limiting. "The conditions under which energy is limit¬
ing can be specified, but there is not any formal necessity for a
connection between [adaptive] effectiveness and [energetic] efficiency.
Effectiveness may or may not involve optimization of some function relat¬
ing to energy" (1972:294).

77
Slobodkin's distinction between effectiveness and efficiency
has been used by Smith (1979:62-63) to show that the rate of acquisi¬
tion of energy, rather than the use of energy in absolute terms, is
significant to an organism's adaptation. In his view it is always
adaptive to increase energetic efficiency. Energy-limited organisms,
however, need to increase the efficiency of energy capture, while non¬
limited organisms should increase the efficiency of energy use, in order
to minimize the time spent acquiring energy which can then be diverted
to other activities related to adaptive success.
Odum, Slobodkin, and Smith all mention certain conditions that
hold in cases where energy is a limiting factor, and suggest that the
conditions under which energy is limiting can be specified. Smith says
that an individual organism is energy-limited if, and only if, increased
energy intake would positively affect its reproductive fitness; and that
a population is energy-limited only if its growth rate would show a
positive increment with an increase in energy intake (Smith 1979:59).
For these reasons, the present analysis attempts to establish that
energy is indeed limiting on the altiplano, before proceeding to an
investigation of seasonal migration as a means of increasing access to
energy resources.
Population Movement and Human Adaptation
Adaptive Movement in Complex Societies
Despite the fact that migration is one of the oldest and most
widespread strategies for the redistribution of human population with
regard to resources, it has rarely been studied as an adaptive

78
phenomenon. This is partly due to the sharp distinction which has
traditionally been drawn between nomadism and transhumance as practiced
by pastoralists and hunting and gathering groups, and the rural-urban
or rural-rural migratory movements which occur in modern states. While
the former have been studied by anthropologists, who have at least to
some extent turned their attention to sociological questions, the latter
have most often been treated by economists and demographers who have
worked with highly aggregated data and within an economic framework.
This has led to a separation of phenomena which, in their essential goals
and functions, are quite similar.
Similarly, most societies in which energetic studies have been
carried out have been relatively self-sufficient in terms of their
resources. This is true, for example, of the Boreal Forest Cree
(Winterhalder 1977), and the Tseinbaga Maring (Rappaport 1968). Even
when more complex societies are studied, they are often treated as
though they were self-sufficient and without significant relationships
to urban center or the national economy (Orlove 1980).
There are many examples, however, of temporary and seasonal
population movements which occur within the framework of modern nations
and among groups which possess a considerable degree of integration
into the national society. In these cases, certain segments of the
population find it necessary or desirable to seasonally, temporarily
or recurrently change their residence in order to guarantee their sub¬
sistence. There is no reason why adaptive strategies of population move¬
ment cannot be examined from an ecological perspective in complex
societies as well as in hunting and gathering groups.

79
Most studies of migration assume that migratory movements are
permanent. While return migration is acknowledged, it is usually con¬
sidered to be a permanent return to one's home related to a failure of
the migratory attempt. There is an inherent expectation that an indi¬
vidual will seek fixed residence in a single location which will
presumably be the place where his or her economic livelihood can best be
insured. While permanent moves represent one type of migration, they
are not the only possibility. As Stearman (1976) has noted, fixity of
residence is not an ideal in all cultures, and the normal economic
routine of many groups may involve a considerable amount of traveling.
Yet seasonal, temporary, and continuous migration have been almost
totally ignored by demographers, economists and others who have con¬
tributed to studies of rural-urban migration.
As previously mentioned, strategies of frequent, more or less
patterned movement, are generally accepted as having played a role in
the subsistence of relatively autonomous hunting and gathering or
pastoral populations in the past and they are recognized as still
existing among such groups at the present time. It is widely assumed,
however, that agriculture binds individuals or groups to a given local¬
ity and limits their geographic mobility. This assumption of limited
mobility is extended to complex societies, which are built on an
agricultural base and need a stable work force for industry. Little
and Morren (1976:23), for example, have differentiated population
movement strategies from migration on the basis that migration is per¬
manent in nature while movement strategies are cyclical and related to

80
oscillations in resource availability. They associate movement strate¬
gies among human populations only with hunters and gatherers.
Recurrent population movements do occur, however, as a normal
course of events in predominantly agricultural and industrialized
societies, as the migrations of sarateños testify. These movements vary
in the manner in which they are organized, the frequency with which
shifts in residence occur, and the length of time spent in each location,
etc. Nevertheless, they all represent (as does permanent migration to
the cities) a rearrangement of population with regard to resources to
insure subsistence. They also represent, in many cases, an attempt to
diversify the resources available to a population either through trade or
direct access.
Temporary Migration
Temporary migration refers to a situation in which an individual,
partial family, or family travel to another area to engage in an eco¬
nomically profitable activity or to trade. They may stay in the new
area for months, or years, but they eventually return with their earnings
or goods to their home community, which is their point of reference, and
the place where they indend to live for most of their lives. The journey
may take place only once in an individual's lifetime or it may be
repeated a number of times.
In many present-day contexts such activity represents an inser¬
tion into and retraction from the labor force of a national economy.
Irregular participation in a national labor market has been noted by

81
MeiHassoux (1972) and others to remove the burden for a worker's
continued subsistence, and that of his or her family from their
employer, and to place it on the domestic unit. While this is true, it
also represents a selective participation in the labor market. A
subsistence base in the home community gives migrants more choice with
regard to when and where to sell their labor than they would have
otherwise.
Temporary but recurrent migration to urban centers is a common
pattern in much of Africa. Literally millions of Africans "spend their
lives alternating between a period in the industrial center and a period
in the rural village" (DuToit 1975:59). A frequent course of events is
for young men and women to go to work in the city for several years and
then to return home to marry. After marriage they are likely to return
to the cities to work, often for several years at a time, in order to
gain cash or goods for their household (Houghton 1958; Mitchell 1969).
The final intent of the migrants, however, is to settle once and for
all in their villages, and their values and lifestyle reflect this
intention (Abu-Lughod 1975).
Similar situations occur in Latin America. Brush (1977:39) has
noted that nearly one third of all households in Uchucmarca in northern
Peru had members who migrated temporarily to work on the coast, but
who fully intended to return to their home community within a period of
months or years. This is also the most common pattern for migration
to urban areas among community members in the district of Sarata.
Arizpe (1979, 1980) has described a temporary migratory process
in Mexican villages which she refers to as "relay migration." Relay

82
migration is a household-based strategy in which the goal is to keep
one or more family members in the capital city earning a cash income
for as long a period as possible. Fathers go to the city while the
children are young, but beginning at age 14, sons and daughters are
also able to participate, contributing their income to the household
budget until they marry. Arizpe relates the high value placed on
children in the villages she studied to the need to increase the family's
available labor force for this purpose.
Seasonal Migration
Seasonal migrants travel on a regularly patterned or cyclical
basis to other areas to work, cultivate landholdings, or trade. The
migratory journey is regularly patterned because it is almost always
arranged so as not to interfere with the normal subsistence activities
of a household or group. Like temporary migratory activities, seasonal
activities often contribute a crucial part of the total subsistence of
a household. Yet, as with temporary migration, the migrants may
exercise a great deal of choice with regard to where and how often they
will travel and what type of activity they will undertake.
Wagley (1941) observed a pattern of seasonal migration in
Guatemala. In this area, highland Indians traveled to take part in
the coffee harvest on large plantations during periods of low activity
on their subsistence plots. They had been making these journeys on a
yearly basis for generations. Whiteford and Adams (1975) have described
a similar pattern of migration from rural areas of Bolivia to work
seasonally on sugar cane plantations in northwestern Argentina.

83
People from northeastern Brazil migrate seasonally to partici¬
pate in the sugar cane and cacao harvests on the coast. They also
migrate temporarily to find work in rural areas of Sao Paulo or in the
building industry in metropolitan centers. The volume of temporary
migration from the Northeast waxes and wanes in relation to the amount
of rainfall received in the area. When the disastrous droughts which
are so common in the region occur, there is a general exodus. North-
easterners are said to return, however, at the first news that the rains
have begun again (Wagley 1971:41).
Halpern (1975) has described a variety of seasonal and temporary
migratory patterns in Balkan nations. These movements are usually timed
to correspond to slow periods in the agropecuarial cycle. They may
take the form of trading trips, travel to work at specialized crafts,
or seasonal brigandage, and the trips may be made over short distance
or to places as far away as North America. Halpern found that groups
who were most active in migratory activities were those who lived in
mountainous areas where agriculture was marginal and who had previosuly
become accustomed to a partially mobile existence because of the require¬
ments of seeking pasture for their flocks. These groups began to adapt
their customs of seasonal mobility to other economic activities with
the expansion of towns in the 16th century.
The various present-day strategies of vertical resource use
in the Andes, such as that practiced by saratehos, are another example of
seasonal migratory movements engaged in by groups integrated into
larger societies. While in pre-Hispanic times, verticality was

administered most frequently by regional political units (Murra 1972),
its current manifestations are usually controlled by individual house¬
holds or communities.
One such example is the pattern of vertical transhumance
described by Stewart, Belote and Belote (1976) for the saraqureños of
Ecuador. Family members travel seasonally with their animals to lowland
zones in order to give them access to green pastures throughout the year.
While the pattern is an old one, the option of selling the animals in
regional markets has given an added incentive to the activity.
Brush (1977) has distinguished three types of vertical resource
use which are currently relied on in the Andes. "Compressed verticality"
refers to a situation in which a family exploits several different ver¬
tically arranged crop zones by shifting their residence according to
agropecuarial cycle. In this case, the crop zones are on a steep
gradient and are relatively close together. Each family ideally has
access to land in the yunga or low, corn-growing zone; the kichwa or
intermediate tuber and grain zone; and the puna, which is the highest
of the zones and is used primarily for herding. The residence which
is considered permanent is usually established in the kichwa, midway
between the other two zones. In addition to the work done by Brush
in Uchucmarca, Webster (1973) has described a resource strategy of this
type for O'ero in Cuzco.
The second type of vertical resource use described by Brush
is "extended verticality." Gade (1967) and Burchard (1974) have
described seasonal trips for purposes of trade which are representative

85
of this type. On these trips goods from the high part of a valley are
exchanged for products from lower zones of the same valley. The crop
zones within which trade is carried out are contiguous but often stretch
over great distances and there is no direct access to lands in all
places by inhabitants of the valley. There is also a long tradition,
throughout the Andes, of longer trading expeditions which are not
limited to a single valley (Casaverde 1977; Custred 1974, 1977; Flores
Ochoa 1977).
A final variety of verticality is the "archipelago" type
practiced by sarateiios. In these cases the zones of resource exploi¬
tation are widely separated and the travel between them requires many
days. Despite the distances, trips to the "auxiliary" fields are made
as often as three to four times a year. Fonseca (1972) and Mayer (1971)
have also described communities which rely on this strategy. In all
cases the place of permanent residence is considered to be the high¬
lands, where there is easy access to potatoes, grains, and animals for
transport.
These are but a few examples of present-day populations in
complex societies whose subsistence is tied to movement strategies. The
cases described would not lend themselves easily to analysis by theories
of economic maximization or of income differentials, which are commonly
applied to migratory movements. In many cases, cash is not the goal
of the migration, or is only one of many goals. In many of the examples,
the populations in question recognize that they would lose control over
their nutritional base by becoming completely integrated into a cash

86
economy, and thus they seek to maintain their semi-integrated status.
As in the case of Sarata, diversification of resources is often as
important a goal as is maximization of any variable.
Neither, in most of these cases, can a set of variables which
tend to "push" or to "pull" the migrants be easily identified. Migration
is not an all-or-nothing, once in a lifetime decision, but forms part of
an integrated strategy for the survival of the household unit. Many
calculations enter into the decisions made with regard to who will
migrate, when they will go, how long they sill stay, etc.
A human ecological framework is effective in analyzing these
types of situtations because itdoes not allow the researcher to take for
granted that any one variable is being maximized. Limiting factors or
variables must be empirically determined for each case. The survival-
related problems which are faced by each group must be identified. The
realms of behavior which are relevant to the solution of these problems
and their cultural bases must also be identified. Ecological studies
in anthropology have been criticized for limiting themselves to isolated
groups of people whose integration into larger economic and political
units is minimal (Anderson 1972). The present study hopes to demon¬
strate that the methods and theory of human ecology are essential to
the study of strategies of population movement and of other types of
adaptive behavior, in complex as well as in "simple" societies.

CHAPTER THREE
THE ALTIPLANO RESOURCE BASE
AMD PATTERNS OF SUBSISTENCE
Primary Productivity and Production
Geographical and Climatic Factors
The altiplano is a high-altitude plateau which "extends with a
gentle slope from the Western Cordillera of the Andes to the spurs of
the Eastern Cordillera, prolonged toward Bolivian territory on the
southwest and including the large depression of the Poopó basin" (ONERN/
CORPUNO 1965:49), In Peru, the altiplano is marked by the presence of
Lake Titicaca, and for all practical purposes, can be said to be con¬
tiguous with the broad Titicaca basin. The altiplano landscape, and
especially the northeastern side of the lake where Sarata is located, is
marked by steep, mountain-like rock formations, or monadnocks, and by
numerous narrow and protected valleys.
The topography of the altiplano is important because the region's
climatic characteristics are in large part determined by the land masses
which border it. In particular the Eastern and Western Cordilleras
influence precipitation, which falls from September through April and
then completely ceases in the dry season from Hay through September.
The rains come when air from the South Atlantic anticyclone crosses the
South American continent and is forced up the eastern slope of the Andes.
As it rises, the air cools and expands, losing its capacity to hold
moisture. The resultant precipitation is responsible for the lush rain
87

forests of the eastern Andes. By the time it crosses the altiplano,
the air's moisture content has been reduced, and in descending from
the Cordillera increased warmth and barometric pressure make rain less
likely. Still, from late September through late March there is some
precipitation nearly every day and this is what sustains al ti piano agri-
culture (ONERN/CORPUNO 1965; Thomas and Winterhalder 1976:24).
Around the end of March a low-pressure area over the Gran Chaco
region draws the moist air of the Andean anticyclone toward it and an
intertropical front from the upper atmosphere over Brazil enters the
altiplano. The dry, gusty winds associated with the front dessicate
formerly green pasture lands and leave the al ti piano landscape brown and
dusty. Average monthly precipitation for Sarata for the years 1961-1979
is presented in Table 3-1. As Painter (1981) notes, these figures are
somewhat higher than for the rest of the altiplano. This is because
the Cordillera north of Sarata is not as high as in some places, so
cloud masses pass into the a 1 ti piano more easily, and also because the
lake basin is narrower in this region which means that the air's moisture
content is still relatively high when it reaches Sarata.
The temperature of the a_l_ti_p2ajno is influenced by two factors.
One is the altitude, which measures 3812 meters above sea level at the
edge of Lake Titicaca and rises to well over 5000 meters in many parts
of the Cordillera. The other is the tropical latitude of the region,
ranging from approximately 14° on its northern edge to 20° at its
southernmost point around Lake Poopd. The combined effect of these
two factors is that the altiplano temperature varies little from season

Table 3-1. Rainfall: 1980, lakeside zone, district of Sarata (in mm)
Months
Jan.
Feb.
Mar.
Apr.
May
Jun.
Jul.
Aug.
Sep.
Oct.
Nov.
Dec. Total
Precipitation 204.9
137.9
124.0
57.0
24.9
3.0
7.5
12.2
50.2
46.0
110.6
154.0 932.2

90
to season, but varies sharply during a 24-hour cycle. For this reason
the Andes have been classified by Carl Troll (1968) as a "diurnal
temperature climate." The mean daily range between peak afternoon
temperature and nighttime lows has been noted as more than 20°C for the
northwestern altiplano (Thomas and Winterhalder 1976). For the lakeside
zone of the district of Sarata, which has a much more protected land¬
scape, the mean daily range is 11.5°C or 20.9°F.
Table 3-2 indicates on a monthly basis the average maximum,
minimum, and mean temperatures, and the maximum oscillation in tempera¬
tures, for the years 1961-1979. Maximum temperatures average 14.7°C or
58.5°F and minimum temperatures--3.0°C or 37°F. It is interesting to
note that while maximum temperatures remain fairly constant throughout
the year, minimums dip significantly in the dry season. This is partly
a result of the absence of cloud cover which tends to retain daytime
heat when it is present in the rainy season. The most extreme nocturnal
temperatures occur in June and July. The eve of the winter solstice is
said by altiplano dwellers to be the coldest of the year. On this night,
bonfires are burned on hillsides in the district of Sarata "to warm the
skies."
Any basic description of the climate of the altiplano in general,
and of Sarata in particular, must deal with the fact that life there is
far more affected by the extremes and irregularities of temperature and
precipitation, than by their averages and regularities. Table 3-1 shows
that average rainfall for the month of January is 204.9 mm. If the
data are examined year by year, however, one notices that the

Table 3-2. Mean temperatures: 1961-79, lakeside zone, district of Sarata
Mon ths
Measurements
Jan.
Feb.
Mar.
Apr.
May
Jun.
Jul.
Aug.
Sep.
Oct.
Nov.
Dec.
Maximum temperature
57.7°F
14.3°C
57.6°F
14.2°C
58.1° F
14.5°C
58.6nF
14.8 C
57.7°F
14.3°C
57.2°F
14.0°C
56.8'T
13.8°C
58.2°F
14.ór‘C
59.2°F
15.rc
60.8°F
16.0°C
61 .OF
16. rc
58.1 'F
14.50 C
Minimum temperature
41.7°F
5.4°C
42.1°F
5.6nC
41.2°F
5.1°C
38.5°F
3.6°C
35. FF
1.7°C
31 .5°F
-0.3*C
30.9°F
-0.63°C
32.5°F
0.27°C
36.5°F
2.4°C
38.6°F
3.7° C
39.9°F
4.4°C
41 .4°F
5.2°C
Mean temperature
49.6°F
9.8°C
48.9°F
9.4°C
49.6°F
9.8°C
48.6°F
9.2°C
47.5°r
8.6°C
44.4QF
6.9°C
45.1°F
7.3°C
45.3°F
7.4°C
48.0°F
8.9°C
49.6°F
9.8°C
50.4UF
10.?°C
49.6°F
9.8°C
Maximum oscillation
16.0°F
9.0°C
15.5°F
8.6°C
16.9 ° F
9.3°C
20.FF
11.2<‘C
22.6CF
13.4°C
25.7°r
14.36°C
25.9°F
13.rc
25.7°F
14.36°C
22.9°F
12.5°C
22.2°F
12.3*C
21.1°F
11.3 C
16.7"F
9. ?UC
'D

92
precipitation for that month can vary from 247.2 mm to 17.8 mm. Periodic
droughts are an important fact of life on the altiplano.
The crucial period for receiving rainfall is from November
through February. This is the growth period for most crops, and too
little water, or too much in some cases, can wipe out the entire harvest.
Lack of rainfall is usually associated with lack of cloud cover, so that
drought-stressed plants are also faced with lower temperatures and
frost.
Because of low nighttime temperatures, frost may come during any
month of the year on the a 1 ti piano, although they are most frequent
during the dry season. ONERN/CORPUNO (1975) and Thomas and Winterhalder
(1976) describe two types of frosts. Eighty percent of frosts are
"static," that is they are simply the result of low nighttime tempera¬
tures. This is the least dangerous type, because it is of short duration.
A second variety of frost, known as "dynamic," results from a polar cold
front and is far more dangerous because it may last several days.
Frosts are responsible for a significant amount of crop loss on the
altiplano.
Drought and frost are not the only stressors of plant and
animal life. Severe hailstorms are frequent in the rainy season and
pose a grave risk to developing plants. Low partial pressures of oxygen
and carbon dioxide have a detrimental effect on plant development, as
does low humidity, which results from high rates of evapotranspiration.
Strong diurnal variation in temperature may be stressful to
plants and animals, by interrupting physiological processes (Thomas and

93
Winterhalder 1976). Some investigators feel, however, that this factor
may actually give plants some advantage, since the large amount of sun¬
light they receive during the day encourages production of plant matter
through photosynthesis, while low temperatures at night reduce its con¬
sumption through respiration (Schwabe 1968). Which of these theories
is correct has yet to be resolved by plant physiologists; however, on
the surface, altiplano crop yields do not seem to justify the assumption
that diurnal variation gives plants any great advantage. A final
deterrent to productivity on the al ti piano is the poor quality of the
soils. They are generally characterized as "undeveloped" because cold
and dryness inhibit the decomposition of organic matter which ordinarily
makes it available to plants (Schwabe 1968; Papadakis 1969).
Poor soils, low oxygen and carbon dioxide availability, low
temperatures, and irregular distribution of precipitation are constant in
the altiplano. Drought, hail, and frost, although sporadic in occurrence,
affect every year's production to some extent, and occasionally wipe out
an entire year's crop. Sometimes large losses occur several years in a
row. This was the case during the early 1940s and late 1950s, periods
when many families were forced to leave the altiplano, at least tempo¬
rarily. The combined result of these constant and occasional stresses
is an environment where the production of energy, and more specifically
the energy available to human beings to maintain their life processes,
is seriously deficient.
Natural Life Zones
Although the altiplano does not have the sharp altitudinal gra¬
dients encountered in other parts of the Andes, this does not mean that

94
there is no ecological variation within its boundaries. There are, of
course, innumerable micro-climates in any given area, which result from
the unique sets of conditions created by rock formations, slopes and
valleys, as well as by factors such as proximity to Lake Titicaca or
other water sources. There are also, however, gradations of a broader
nature.
ONERN (1976) has mapped "natural life zones" throughout Peru
based on the classification system of L. R. Holdridge (1957). Zones are
distinguished on the basis of three climatic factors: mean annual biotem-
peraturej mean annual precipitation and the potential evapotranspira-
2
tion ratio, as well as on latitude, altitude, and the dependent
variable of natural plant communities. In the district of Sarata as
in most of the northeastern lake shore, three life zones may be distin¬
guished.
Most of the area bordering the lake falls into the zone referred
to by ONERN as "subtropical montane moist forest." It is characterized
by a moist and cold climate. In Sarata, this is an area almost exclu¬
sively dedicated to agriculture. Its natural vegetation has been
replaced by intensive cultivation, but it appears to have consisted
mainly of small woody shrubs such as quenuales (pol.ylepis).
^Biotemperoture refers to the daily average temperature between
0° and 30nC. It is calculated by taking the sum of temperatures above
zero and below 30° every hour and dividing by 24.
9
Evapotranspiration is the quantity of water that would be evapo¬
rated directly from the soil and other surfaces and that would be
transpired by natural mature vegetation in a situation of steady state
or climax in a soil zone of good characteristics and with optimal humid¬
ity content (ONERN 1976:2).

95
Further north in the district is a zone classified as "sub¬
tropical subalpine wet plain (paramo).11 It is somewhat higher in ele¬
vation, as well as colder and wetter than the "montane moist forest."
In Sarata, this is the zone where a pattern of mixed herding and agri¬
culture occurs. Natural vegetation consists mainly of hardy bunch
grasses of the genera Stipa, Festuca, Poa, and Calamagrostis.
Finally, in the far northeastern corner of the district lies
an area of "subtropical alpine rain tundra." This is the area of
greatest altitude, and it is the coldest and the most humid part of the
district. No agriculture is possible there but large herds of animals
are maintained. The natural vegetation consists of the bunch grasses
and of cushion plants (largely of the genus Azorella).
Each of these three life zones is characterized by a unique sub¬
sistence base in Sarata. Variation occurs in the types of crops which
can be grown, and the mix of animals and crops possessed. These charac¬
teristics give rise, in turn, to differences in settlement and land-
holding patterns. A brief description of the characteristics of each
zone will follow.
The characterizations used by Holdridge to refer to the "life
zones" he defined are somewhat misleading when applied to Sarata. The
"moist forest" zone, for example, is not forest land but intensively
cultivated cropland. It will be hereafter referred to as the lakeside
zone. The "rain tundra" ecosystem is characterized by the absence of
agricultural activity. It will, therefore, be referred to as the herding
zone. Holdridge's "wet plain" life zone is a transitional zone between

96
these two, and thus will be called the intermediate zone. The distri¬
bution of these zones in the district of Sarata is represented in Figure
3-1.
The lakeside zone. The lakeside zone produces the greatest
variety of crops and plant life. Twenty-four percent of the land area
of this zone is dedicated to potatoes, almost entirely of the dulce or
"sweet" variety (Solanum andigenum). nineteen percent is planted in
minor Andean tubers: api 1 la (Oxal is crenata); ul luku (111 lucus tuberosa);
arid isariu (Tropaeolum tuberosum). The Andean broad bean (Vicia fava) is
grown on 25 percent of the land and barley on 18 percent.
While in some parts of the al tipi ano people rely heavily on the
native Andean grains (Thomas 1972), in Sarata and most of the rest of
the department of Puno barley is more important. People explain that if
a hailstorm or frost damages a barley crop, one still has good forage
for the animals, while a crop of quinoa or kañiwa would be completely
lost. The fact that Sarata receives more rainfall than other parts of
the department of Puno also makes it more favorable to the production of
barley.
While by far the largest part of cultivable land is dedicated
to these four staple crops, a wide variety of other products are grown
in smaller quantities. These include peas, onions, herbs, garlic,
oats, rye, and wheat, quinoa (Chenopodiuni quinoa), tarwi (Lupinus mutabi-
lis), corn, lettuce, turnips, beets, carrots, and spinach. In many
cases these products may be used to give variety to a household's diet,
but the vegetables may also be carried to town on Sundays in small

‘-O
Figure 3-1. Natural life zones of the district of Sarata

Table 3-3. Climatic characteristics of natural life zones in the district of Sarata
Zone
Altitude
Average Annual
Maximum
Biotemperature
Average Annual
Minimum
Biotemperature
Maximum
Annual
Precipi tation
Mi nimum
Annual
Precipitation
Evapotranspirati on
in Relation to
Precipitation
Subtropical
montane
moist
forest
2800-3900 m
(9135-12,795 ft)
12.9°C
(55.2° F)
6.5°C
(43.7°F)
1119 mm
44.06 in
410 mm
16.14 in
0.5-1.0
Subtropical
subalpine
wet paramo
3900-4500 m
(12,795-14,764 ft)
6.9°C
(44.4°F)
4.6°C
(40.3°F)
1088 mm
42.84 in
513.4 mm
20.21 in
0.25-0.5
Subtropical
alpine
rain tundra
4300-5000 m
(14,108-16,404 ft)
3.2°C
(37.8°F)
3.2°C
(37.8°F)
1020 mm
40.16 in
687.9 mm
27.08 in
0.125-0.5

99
Table 3-4.
Average number of
life zones of the
animals per household
district of Sarata
in the natural
Animal
Lakeside
Intermediate
Herding
Sheep
3
16
57
Cattl e
1-2
3-4
49-50
L1 ama
0-1
1-2
7-8
Al paca
0
2
2
Chickens
1-2
1-2
4-5
Pigs
1
0-1
0

Table 3-5. Number and
life zones
percentages of hectares of land
of the district of Sarata
per crop:
Average for
households in the
natural
Lakeside
Intermediate
Herding
Crop
Hectares
Percentage
of Total
Cultivated
Land
Hectares
Percentage
of Total
Cultivated
Land
Hectares
Percentage
of Total
Cultivated
Land
Broad beans
2226.5
25.2
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
Minor tubers
1692.0
19.2
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
Potatoes ("sweet")
2137.0
24.2
1526.4
24.2
0.0
0.0
Potatoes (bitter)
0.0
0.0
1653.6
26.3
0.0
0.0
Barley (for grain)
1336.0
15.1
1462.8
23.2
0.0
0.0
Barley (for forage)
267.0
3.0
699.6
11.1
0.0
0.0
Ouinoa
356.0
4.0
127.2
2.0
0.0
0.0
Kañiwa
0.0
0.0
254.4
4.0
0.0
0.0
Peas and other vegetables
267.0
3.0
254.4
4.0
0.0
0.0
Onions
53.5
0.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
Tarwi
53.5
0.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

Table 3-5--Continued
Lakeside
Intermediate
Herding
Percentage
Percentage
Percentage
of Total
of Total
of Total
Cul ti vated
Cultivated
Cultivated
Crop
Hectares Land
Hectares Land
Hectares Land
Wheat
Oats
53.5
0.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
267.0
3.0
381.6
6.1
0.0
0.0
89.0
1.0
127.2
2.0
0.0
0.0
Rye

102
Table 3-6. Approximate crop yields per hectare in natural life zones
of the district of Sarata (kg/ha--wet weight)
Lakeside
Intermediate
Herdii
Broad beans
2,309
—
...
Minor tubers
6,000
—
...
Potatoes ("sweet")
6,000
4,500
...
Potatoes (bitter)
5,230
5,230
—
Barley (for grain)
730
700
...
Barley (for forage)
9,500
9,500
—
Quinoa
425
425
...
Kariiwa
...
564
...
Peas and other vegetables
O
-P»
cn
—
...
Onions
12,000
—
...
Tarwi
583
—
...
Wheat
730
— -
...
Oats
13,510
13,510
...
Rye
9,500
---
...

103
amounts to be sold to the urban dwellers or to people from higher alti¬
tudes who cannot grow them. Actually, by far the majority are purchased
by urban dwellers who feel the need for a more diversified diet. Onions
and carrots are the only non-native vegetables which are eaten with any
frequency by rural households.
The rotation cycle which is commonly practiced in the lakeside
zone is potatoes, minor tubers, beans, and then barley, with an average
of three years fallow before potatoes are planted again. Only irrigated
land is cultivated continuously without fallow. Wheat or oats may be
substituted for the barley stage, and quinoa is usually planted in and
around the other crops. Raised rows are formed prior to planting pota¬
toes. They are reused for minor tubers, and if anything is left of them,
for beans.
There are a number of wild plants which are exploited in the
lakeside zone. The most important of these are herbs (cu11 a) which are
used for teas, remedies and to season food; wild guinoa (ch1iwa) which
is eaten boiled with oil or lard and seasonings, and totora or lake reed
roots (chullu) which are eaten peeled and raw.
The cultivated fields within the lakeside zone tend to be very
small. The largest extensions are no more than a fraction of a hectare
and the smallest may be only a few square meters. This has often been
cited as evidence of population pressure in the zone. Patterns of land
inheritance, which entitle all children of both sexes to an equal share
of cropland have also been blamed for creating an impractical and un¬
productive landholding system. Extreme parcelization has been said to

104
inhibit initiatives to modernize agricultural practices, with the result
of eventually forcing people off the land.
It would be difficult to find a small farmer in the Andes, how¬
ever, who would trade 12 or 15 small plots in distinct locations for
an equivalent amount of contiguous land. The advantages of diversifica¬
tion of landholdings inminimizingdamages from localized weather phenomena
and in allowing farmers to take advantage of microclimatic variation have
been described by Painter (1978), Brush (1977), Orlove (1977), and
Thomas (1972).
A typical household in the lakeside zone will have access to
land in several communities. Some of this may be mi 11i land, on the
shores of Lake Titicaca where moist, rich soils are deposited by the lake
during the rainy season. Mi Hi crops are planted in July and August and
then harvested before rising lake water during the new rainy season
reclaims the land. Potatoes, minor tubers, beans, and peas are usually
grown on mi 11i plots. Irrigated land in other locations may be used to
realize two harvests of barley per year or up to three harvests of broad
beans. Vegetables, wheat, and corn may be grown on sheltered plots
where they will not be exposed to winds and frosts. Staple crops are
scattered throughout the rest of the landholdings. Most lakeside house¬
holds also have at least one plot in the intermediate zone. Bitter
potatoes (1uk"i), and forage grains are grown there, and the site may be
used for the freeze-drying of potatoes.
Thus, the lakeside region is made up of a patchwork of tiny
parcels, some 12 to 30 of which are typically owned by one household.

105
Each household has a dwelling on at least one of its plots. In most
communities these house si tes are dispersed throughout the community and
not grouped around any central landmark. While every community has its
school, meeting house and a variety of other facilities for the use of
its inhabitants, residences do not tend to cluster around these places.
The Peruvian Planning Institute (Instituto Nacional de Planifica¬
ción 1979) has estimated population for the lakeside region of Puno as
2
37 people per km , while for the altiplano as a whole it gives a figure
2
of 5 to 14 inhabitants per km . This estimate, however, is based on
census data whose smallest unit is the district. The entire district of
Sarata is included, for example, as part of the lakeside region despite
the diversity which exists within its boundaries. Thus, while it is
true that the district of Sarata as a whole has a population density of
approximately 35 inhabitants per km , they are not evenly distributed
throughout the district. In the lakeside communities, population densi-
2
ties of 200-250 people per km are not uncommon, which is in sharp
2
contrast to the 20-25 people per km found in the herding communities.
Thus, although lakeside communities do not generally have aggregated
settlement patterns, high population density means that houses may
often be no more than 20 to 50 yards apart.
A further consequence of the intensive use of land in the lake¬
side zone is that little land is set aside for animals. There is a
generalized attitude that any land on which crops can be successfully
grown should be in cultivation. Thus, animals are grazed exclusively on
fallow land, and must be fed totora (lake reeds--Scirpus riparius and

106
Typha angustifolia), 1lachu (several types of water plants), or forage
grains during the dry season. The average household in this zone has
eight sheep, a cow, a donkey or a llama for cargo and perhaps some pigs,
cuyes (guinea pigs) or chickens. In households with direct access to
the lake, fishing is heavily relied on.
The productivity of land in the lakeside zone is higher than in
the rest of the district. Since rainfall is actually greater in the
higher zones, it must be assumed that this is due to the warmer tempera¬
tures, and most importantly, to the related fact that there are far
fewer nights when temperatures drop below freezing and when killing
frosts occur. The productivity of the area is symbolically demonstrated
when, on the 4th of December, the first fruits of the harvests of mil 1i
land and irrigated land are carried to the church in homage to Santa
Barbara. It is not uncommon at this time of year to hear people from
other crop zones refer to the lakeside dwellers somewhat enviously as
patak watata ("patched belly"). When one inquires what this means, the
response is that the people from this zone wear out their clothes--porque
cada vez sacan sus cosechas de milli--"because they are constantly
reaping their mi 11 i harvests."
The intermediate zone. The varieties of crops which can be
grown in the "wet plain" or intermediate zone of the district of Sarata
are far more limited than on the lakeshore. Onions and other vegetables,
wheat and corn disappear. Potatoes are planted in over 50 percent of
the total cropland and barley in 34 percent. Broad beans and minor
tubers cannot be produced. Even the potatoes and barley which are grown

107
are not the same as in the lakesize zone. Over half of the potatoes
produced are of the bitter variety (luk"i), which are extremely resistant
to the cold and the frosts which occur. Because of the increased cold
and shorter growing season grains do not always form fully and about
half of the barley which is grown is used strictly for forage. The
production of guinoa is higher in the intermediate zone and kariiwa
(Chenopodium pallidicaule), which cannot be produced at all on the lake-
shore, gives a good harvest.
The rotation cycle for this zone also begins with potatoes,
followed by one, or sometimes two, years of grains. The fallow period
lasts for an average of five years, and during this time animals are
grazed on the land. There are separate pasture lands set aside, however,
some of which are irrigated. This is because inhabitants of the inter¬
mediate zone compensate for the smaller variety and lower production of
crops in the zone by an increased reliance on animals. The average
household has 16 sheep, three cows, a llama, two alpacas, one or more
burros and perhaps some pigs or chickens.
When a piece of land is in fallow in the intermediate zone, all
nearby landowners have rights to graze their animals there. This has
been noted by Brush (1976) and Netting (1 976) as a common pattern in theAndes
and in other high-altitude regions. This is in contrast to the lakeside
zone, where due to the scarcity of land available for grazingBrights
to pasture on fallow lands are strictly guarded by the owners.
The landscape of the intermediate zone is broad and open with
few rock formations or valleys to break the force of the wind. In this

108
zone the flat pampa (open fields) is the least productive area because
it is most susceptible to frost. Hillsides are preferred, and the degree
of the slope and the direction of the face heavily influence productive
possibilities. The diversification of landholdings must take all of
these variables into consideration. The person who controls a piece of
sheltered land (k'uchu), or of irrigated land, is considered extremely
lucky. In addition, all families in the intermediate zone seek to own
at least one plot near the lake in order to produce small quantities of
beans and minor tubers.
Although plots are owned in a number of different locations they
are generally of a larger size in the intermediate zone. Unlike the
pattern of tiny interspersed plots found near the lake, large expanses
of pasture land are characteristic. The hillsides, in the growing
season, are solid expanses of yellow-green barley which is ringed with
hardier rye or oats for protection rather than patchworked as in the
lower zone. Potatoes are found planted near the bottoms of the hills.
Decause of the lower population density, the houses of the
intermediate zone are far more widely scattered than those by the lake.
Even an extended family group who conceive of themselves as living in
close proximity will probably have houses 100 to 200 yards apart. The
space and privacy of such a settlement pattern are highly valued by the
inhabitants of the zone, who find it difficult to imagine living perma¬
nently in the crowded town or the lakeside communities.
In general, the people of the intermediate zone have fewer
ecological advantages than their counterparts in the other zones. Their

109
agricultural production is considerably lower, their colder and less
protected environment exposes what production there is to greater risks
from hail and frost. There are fewer wild plants or herbs to be exploited,
and except in a few streams, fishing is not a possibility. Vet a herd
of 15 to 20 sheep and a few cows or alpacas offers little security in
the event a crop should fail. Two or three animals are slaughtered a
year for the family's use and perhaps one or two are sold.
Although animals may provide some security in a year of crop
loss, they are not immune to cold and drought. Cold stress and frost
may kill the young animals, and one of the most difficult parts of the
years of drought, people say, is watching the animals grow thin and die
for lack of food.
The herding zone. In the far northeastern part of the district
of Sarata, it is not possible to produce crops of any kind. Animals
provide the sole means of subsistence. In the high areas near the
eastern range of the Andes, llamas and alpacas are the animals most
typically relied on. The northeastern corner of Sarata, however, has
long been dominated by haciendas, which have emphasized sheep and cattle.
Currently, these are the most important herd animals in the region.
The emphasis on these animals is reinforced by several factors.
While the wool of improved breeds of sheep brings a lower market price
than alpaca fiber, each animal produces considerably more of it.
Improved sheep can often be sheared every year, while for an alpaca there
must be a two-year interval between shearings. In the case of cattle,
extremely high prices are received for live animals by selling them

no
across the border into Bolivia. The average family in the herding zone
has 57 sheep, 30 cows, and nine or ten native camelids.
At the present time, about 25 percent of the land in the herding
zone of Sarata is taken up by the northernmost extremes of the govern¬
ment-run SAIS, while parts of the three independent communities make up
the other 75 percent. Two of the communities are formally members of
the SAIS, but there has in fact been no relationship except on paper.
The SAIS says it has no need for the labor of community members; thus
they contribute nothing and receive nothing from the enterprise. The
third community was formerly part of an hacienda, but now has the status
of a freeholding community.
The inhabitants of the herding zone have a reputation for their
wealth. The Friar Lizarraga, in 1609, commented on the number of animals
they possessed (1968). In the early days of the Spanish Conquest, the
isolation and harshness of their environment served to protect the
herders from the reducciones and the mit'a. Even after haciendas entered
the region in the 18th century, they did not become propertyless serfs,
but families were allowed to maintain personal herds of up to several
hundred animals (Juan Lira Condori, personal communication). At the
present time, the herders call themselves, and are known by others, as
chullchu. Although this Aymara term refers specifically to people who
make their living by herding, it also has connotations of "a wealthy
person." The pride the herders have in their occupation and their
wealth is expressed in a song they sing during the celebration of the
festival of the Virgin of Candelaria in February. They first list all

Ill
of the products to which their animals give them access—ponchos, blankets,
skins, dried meat, cheese, and so forth. Then they sing the following:
Town dwellers
you want young vicuñas
small and large you want
them
I will sel 1 you young
vicuñas
1 will give them to you
I have a thousand
flarka niistinakay
wariqallu muntaxay
chiku jach'a muntaxay
wari qallu aljamamay
churanipamamay
waranqa utjituy
A cash income has been earned by the herders since the mid-1SOOs
when they began selling their wool through the southern Peruvian city of
Arequipa or their live animals through La Paz, Bolivia. Of greater
importance, both now and in the past, are their trading relationships.
The herders have traditionally taken advantage of the monopoly over
transport provided by their llamas in order to carry on an active and
constant trade between highlands and lowlands. Most households currently
make six to eight trips per year to Bolivian valleys, where they trade
woolen homespun and other woven goods, raw wool, skins, and dried meat
for corn and barley and other products which they cannot grow. Trips
are also made once or twice a year to the lakeside zone of the district
of Sarata in order to trade wool and woven goods for potatoes, ch'unu
(freeze-dried potatoes), barley and beans. Trips to the Bolivian valleys
are usually made on foot since there are few roads and it is easier to
cross the international border without documents when walking. The
trips to lower zones of the district of Sarata, however, are as likely
to be in trucks owned by community members as by llama caravan.

112
The settlement pattern of the herding zone is even more dispersed
than that of the intermediate zone. Houses are usually not within sight
of one another. Because the herds have to be moved from pasture to
pasture and separated into several groups at times of breeding, birth
and when there are young animals, each household must actually have
several houses, where residence may be set up temporarily to care for
the animals. Almost all dwellings in the herding zone are constructed
of stone, rather than adobe, which is most commonly used in other areas.
Productivity of the Zones
The productivity of an ecosystem is affected by a large number
of factors. For the altiplano, as we have seen, many factors exert a
negative influence. Low oxygen and carbon dioxide availability, low
temperatures and extreme diurnal variation in temperatures, frosts, hail,
seasonality of precipitation, periodic droughts and poor soils all act
against the productive potential of the region. The nature of most of
these variables is such that they cannot be influenced by the introduc¬
tion of technology, or new products. What is more, the unalterable fac-
tors--especially drought, hail, and frost--make heavy investment in
improvement of the soils through fertilizers or the creation of motorized
irrigation works an extremely risky business. Thus, despite the fact
that much of the land in the altiplano is used for cultivation of crops
and for pasture, its productivity is far lower than that of other areas
where such activities are carried out.
The concept of productivity is considerably more complex than a
simple measuring of yields. Figure 3-2 illustrates the flows of energy

113
(a) albedo
(b) sunlight entering system
(c) gross primary productivity
(d) feedback to system (detritus, seed,
etc.)
(e) plant respiration
(f) net primary productivity (f=c-d-e)
Biomass: the total weight of living
organisms present in a given area at
any one time
Figure 3-2. Generalized model of a primary productive system

114
involved in the production of plant matter, or primary productivity.
Sunlight entering an ecosystem drives the process of photosynthesis in
which its energy is converted into plant matter. The rate of production
of organic matter in this process is known as primary productivity.
Figure 3-3 shows the energetic efficiency of this process as well as
that of other steps in the productive chain.
Part of the gross primary production (usually from 20 to 50 per¬
cent) is used in the process of respiration by which the plant maintains
itself. Part is fed back into the productive process in the form of
seed and decayed plant remains which build up the soil. The organic
matter which remains after these necessary functions are taken care of
is known as the net primary production of the system. This is the part
which is potentially available for use by consumers.
Not all plants are of direct use to a consumer population, and
only a small portion of the total organic matter of those which are of
use is actually exploited. The yield figures usually given for crops
represent only the edible or usable portion of net primary production--
the grain of barley, for example, or the tubers of a potato plant. They
tel 1 us what part of production is destined to become food for the primary
consumers. Plant biomass is the total dry weight of organic matter
present in a given area at a given time and it includes all parts,
whether usable or unusuable. Biomass is usually more than twice the
yield figure for a given area.
Comparisons of the productivity of ecosystems are based on
their net primary productivity or their biomass. Mann (1968)

115
a b
c
d e
(a) Attenuation of extraterrestrial sun energy in
heating the atmosphere and driving hydrological
cycles and weather systems
(b) Attenuation of sun energy to warm the ecosystem
and drive its internal water and mineral cycles
(c) Energy lost in conversion of sun energy to plant
matter
(d) Energy lost in conversion of plants to primary
consumers
(e) Energy lost in transfer from primary to secondary
consumers
Figure 3-3. Solar energy flow through the biosphere in kilocalories
per square meter per year
(From Odum 1975:62)

116
has measured the biomass of relatively moist regions of the altiplano
2
as 0.7 kg/m of dry matter accumulated per year. This figure is
extremely low by world standards. Table 3-7 lists the world average
figures for biomass of cultivated land, grassland/scrub tundra, and for
purposes of comparison, of tropical rain forest. Mann's (1968) estimate
for biomass of the altiplano is close to that for tundra.
Table 3-7. Biomass estimates for selected world
ecosystems
Ecosystem
Kg dry matter/m2/year
Average for
scrub tundra/
grassland
(Lieth 1973)
0.1-3
Average for
cultivated land
(Lieth 1973)
3.5
Average for
tropical rain forest
(Lieth 1973)
45.0
Altiplano
(Mann 1968)
0.7
In the district of Sarata measures of productivity vary greatly
from one life zone to another. The lakeside zone has higher yields and
a far larger percentage of total land is in cultivation at any one
time. There are no lands exclusively devoted to pasture, for example,
and few areas are too exposed or rocky to cultivate at all. The biomass
for this region is at least twice that reported by Mann.

117
The intermediate zone has many more uncultivable areas and
large extensions of natural pastures. It must be remembered, however,
that pasture land supports animals, which also represent biomass and
which provide food for the human population. As Figure 3-3 indicates,
the transformation of plant matter to animal matter is very inefficient
energetically. Since humans cannot consume bunch grasses and forage
grains directly, however, the animals are a good solution to the produc
tive problems posed by these areas. In general, less intensive utiliza
tion of land, combined with lower yields on land which is cultivated,
is responsible for a biomass in the intermediate zone which is much
closer to that measured by Mann.
The herding zone must rely exclusively on animals to provide
food for its human consumers, both directly and through trade of the
animal products for vegetable ones. Both in use and productivity this
zone has the characteristics of scrub tundra. Although the tundra is
moister than is typical in other parts of the world, great extensions
of land are still necessary to maintain the large herds of animals
which give its inhabitants their reputation for wealth.
The descriptive information on climate and productivity from
all three natural life zones appear to support the assertion that
energy resources are limited on the altiplano. Far less of the energy
received as sunlight is transformed into organic matter than in most
other parts of the world. The fixation of organic matter is a factor
beyond the control of the altiplano population.
In Chapter Four, the effect of limited energy resources on
altiplano households in each of the three ecological zones will be

118
looked at in a more detailed way. The factor of low productivity will be
integrated into the energy flow systems of the households in order to
demonstrate its effects. In this way, the question of whether or not
altiplano houesholds have sufficient energy resources to survive and
reproduce without outside subsidies can be addressed. It can be deter¬
mined whether energy is only limited in a descriptive and relative way,
or is a limiting factor in the precise ecological sense defined in Chap¬
ter Two.
Consumption
Preservation of Foods
In the district of Sarata, providing the household with suf¬
ficient food throughout the year is the most important and time-consuming
task of all its members. The mark of a mature person is the ability to
plan the family's resources to insure that none of its members will go
hungry at any time. This type of calculation or tantiyana (from the
Spanish tantear--"to keep score") must make allowances for the long
dry season, which means that potatoes and grains harvested in May have
to last until flay of the next year. It must also come to terms with
the frost, hail, and drought described in the previous section, which
can significantly reduce a year's food supply.
Techniques of food processing are in many ways the key to sub¬
sistence in such a capricious environment. Potatoes may be freeze-dried
into ch'uñu. This involves setting them out on a cold night to freeze,
peeling them and then drying them in the sun for several days. The same
process can be applied to api 11 a to produce k"a,ya. Tunta is another,

119
more complicated way of preserving potatoes. They are first left out
to freeze, then soaked in cold running water for about two weeks. After
this they are frozen again, peeled and dried. The potatoes used for
tunta are usually larger than those used for ch'unu. The final product
is lighter in color and has a different flavor.
Once processing is completed, any of these products can be kept
for ten years or more without spoiling. Dried grains, such as barley,
guinoa, and kahiwa can also be kept for long periods, as long as store¬
houses are not invaded by rodents. These products are the waniya or
"foods kept for several years" which see the family through the long
period between harvests and provide insurance for years when little or
nothing is harvested. A prosperous household is marked by its full
storehouses, which may contain as much as 2000 to 3000 pounds of grains
and 400 to 500 pounds of ch'uñu and tunta.
Food Sources and Exchange
The largest part of the food consumed by households in Sarata
comes from their own production. Purchase, barter, and long-term
exchanges of food play a role, however, in diversifying the diet and
meeting food needs in periods of shortage. Between 7 and 12 percent of
the calories consumed by households in the lakeside and intermediate
zones of Sarata come from purchased food. The major items which are
purchased are sugar, wheat bread, rice and supplementary vegetables and
condiments. While all households use sugar, the frequency of purchase
of the other products depends on the cash available and the distance

120
from the market where they are sold. Although they have become
accustomed to them, people still refer to purchased goods as "vices"
or "luxuries" and note that their parents lived quite well without
them. In fact, sugar is the only item which has become truly integrated
into the daily diet, and for which locally produced substitutes are not
available.
Barter may be relied on to provide another 5 percent or so of
calories consumed. The supplementary vegetables and condiments (hot
peppers, salt, herbs) mentioned above are often the objects of trade.
While any agricultural product can potentially be obtained through
barter, it is generally true that products of limited distribution such
as fish, corn, fruit, beans, and certain anaimal products enter into
exchanges more frequently than potatoes, ch'uñu or barley, which are
more commonly available.
In addition to purchase and barter, there are other types of
food exchanges in which people may become involved. These are usually
long-term relationships and immediate repayment is not necessary. They
are referred to as ayni--a cover term for exchanges of goods and labor
in which one party's obligation is deferred to a time when it is either
more convenient for them to fulfill it or when it will be of greater
value to the other party. The time lapse between the initial provision
of goods and services and the reciprocation may be a few days or many
years.
The importance of such arrangements to the scheduling of labor
has often been described (Mayer 1974; Brush 1977). They are also a

121
common means of redistributing food resources. If households have
suffered differentially from drought or frost, for example, it is food
given in ayni which covers the deficit for those who were unfortunate.
In less dramatic cases, ayni exchanges can be used to give families
access to a wider variety of foods over a longer period of time than
they would normally be able to have. A woman who has a cow and some
irrigated pasture may provide cheeses for her neighbor during the dry
season. When the rains come and all cows have access to green pasture
and are giving milk, she may sell her cow and her neighbor will provide
her with cheeses.
Ayni arrangements involving food are also a part of migratory
strategy. An older couple may not, for example, have the cash necessary
to buy sugar or rice. They may have an adult son or daughter who works
seasonally or permanently in the city, who keeps them supplied with
these products. In return the parents provide them with meat when they
slaughter an animal, occasional cheeses, and potatoes at harvest time.
Another son or daughter may bring them corn and oranges from Tambopata
each year in return for provisions to take to the valley.
It must be remembered that in the herding zone, all non-
pecuarial products must be obtained from outside the home communities.
A far larger percentage of the diet is obtained through purchase, barter
and short- and long-term trade relationships. Cash for purchases is
obtained through the sale of wool, or in the case of cattle, of live
animals. Vlool and wool products, as well as dried meat and cheeses are
the goods most frequently traded.

122
Meal Composition and Patterns
Potatoes and barley are the major elements of the diet in the
district of Sarata. They are eaten in some form every day of the year,
in all three of the productive zones. Table 3-8 shows the relative
contributions which different foods make to the diet in terms of bulk
and calories, and illustrates the important role of tubers and barley.
Despite a common reliance on these core items, the differing productive
situations of the three zones mean that consumption patterns vary some¬
what as one moves away from the lakeshore.
The diet of the lakeside communities, in general, is more varied.
It benefits from the large quantities of broad beans, minor tubers, and
other vegetables which can be produced there, as well as from edible
wild plants and herbs which are abundant in the rainy season. While
these products are eaten in the intermediate and herding zones, they
must be obtained by trade or purchase, or they are grown on small plots
outside the community. For these reasons, the amounts consumed are
considerably lower.
Because of the larger proportion of bitter potatoes (Solanum
curtilobaum) grown in the intermediate zone, its households rely more
heavily on ch'uhu and tunta. Bitter potatoes are considered unfit for
consumption until they have been freeze-dried. Therefore, approximately
half of all potatoes grown in this zone are eaten in freeze-dried form.
The greater reliance on animals in the higher areas means that
larger quantities of meat are consumed. While the average lakeside adult
consumes less than half a sheep or the equivalent per year, an adult

Table 3-8. Composition of the diet: Intermediate zone, district of Sarata,
and comparative data
Nuñoa Hacienda Community
(Mazess and Samp 1e Town Sample Sample
Sarata-- Sarata-- Sarata-- Baker 1964) (Gursky 1967) (Gorsky 1967) (Gursky 1967)
Percentage Percentage Percentage Percentage Percentage Percentage Percentage
Calories Protein 8ulk Bulk Bulk Bulk 8ulk
Meat and other
anima 1
products
2.9
12.2
6.5
6.3
17.7
15.5
6.8
Potatoes
18.5
21.3
39.2
47.9
19.3
1.9
10.5
Tunta/ch'uñu
46.0
31.9
29.4
30.4
3.6
7.4
15.8
Minor tubers
1 .3
0.9
1.9
1.8
...
...
9.0
Barley
18.1
23.1
11.2
3.4
3.1
7.4
25.3
Quinoa/kañiwa
1.9
3.8
1.1
3.0
8.4
11.9
23.3
Corn
0.6
0.8
0.4
1.6
4.8
22.0
...
Wheat
...
...
0.9
29.5
21.6
0.5
Other vege¬
tables
0.5
1.5
2.9
1.8
...
9.2
1.8
Store-bought
wheat products
2.1
3.9
1.8
...
. ...
...
...
Rice
0.5
0.6
0.9
...
...
0.7
...
Sugar
7.1
0.0
3.9
—
...
...
...
Total
99.5
100.0
99.2
100.0
99.9
99.8
98. 7

124
in the intermediate zone consumes a quantity equivalent to a whole sheep
or more. In the herding zone meat is consumed every day. In all three
zones meat is sun-dried to produce ch'arki, which allows an animal,
once butchered, to be consumed over long periods of time.
In view of the smaller quantities of meat available, fish is
an important source of protein in the lakeside zone. Like beans and
minor tubers, some fish, especially the tiny dried ispi, are traded for
or purchased by inhabitants of the higher zones. Just as with beans
and minor tubers, however, the quantities are relatively small.
The daily meal pattern is fairly uniform throughout the district.
Household members get up from 4:00-4:30 a.m. They usually spend an hour
or so listening to radio broadcasts in Aymara from the coastal cities
of Tacna or Moliendo or to Lima stations which play music from the
provinces. During this time they drink a cup of heavily sugared maté
(herb tea, usually from eucalptus leaves) or coffee, and eat one or more
pieces of bread. The bread may either be wheat bread bought in the
market, or tuqtu--a fried bread made from barley flour. This meal is
known as junt'u uma or "hot water."
By 5:00 or 5:30 chores are begun. One household member prepares
the first cooked meal, which everyone returns to eat around 7:30. The
morning meal consists of one or possibly two of the following: a soup
based on potatoes, ch'uriu or barley; boiled ch' uñu (ch'uñu p"uti); boiled
potatoes (g"ati); or porridge of barley, quinoa or kañiwa (roaska). The
Spanish word for lunch, almuerzo, is used to refer to this meal, or any
other meal which contains hot soup.

125
At the same time that the morning almuerzo is being prepared,
other foods are readied for the family members to carry with them to
their work places. Any one or more of the following may be included:
boiled potatoes (q"ati), boiled ch'uñu or tunta (p"uti), boiled beans or
corn (mut1i), toasted beans, corn or barley (tostado), or quinoa which
has been ground, formed into bite-sized pieces, boiled, and then toasted
(k1ispina). These foods, which are called mirinta (from the Spanish
merienda or "snack") are wrapped up and carried to the field where one
is working or the pasture where one is herding. At noon the mirinta
is brought out and all those who are working together share what they
have brought.
When everyone returns to the household complex, around 6:00 p.m.,
another cup of maté or coffee is prepared. This may have some finely
ground kañiwa flour (kañiwaqu) added to it in addition to sugar. Again,
one or two pieces of storebought or home-fried bread may be eaten, if
available. The final meal is another almuerzo consumed around 7:00 p.m.
This is nearly always reheated soup, porridge, or boiled tubers from the
morning, although far less is consumed in the evening after work.
The sharing of food is an activity of great importance in Aymara
culture. At meal times food must be shared with all who are present.
If for some reason this is not possible, no one eats. When food is
carried to the fields or to a community work project, each person does
not eat what they have brought. Instead, at the given hour, people
group together and place all their food on a large cloth, to be shared.
Food is served to guests and family members with the formal invitation

126
manq'asiñani, "let us eat together." It is accepted using the same
phrase. To turn down food offered in this way would be a grave insult.
At the end of a meal thanks (juspagaraturn) "may God repay you" are
expressed, not just to the person who served or prepared the food, but
to all with whom it was shared.
Seasonal Variation in the Diet
The pattern and composition of meals remains fairly constant
throughout the year. There is, however, some variation based on the
agricultural cycle, especially in the two lower productive zones. The
greatest variety and quantity of food is available immediately following
the potato harvest in May. During the harvest, the customary mirinta
is not prepared. Instead earthen ovens are built in the fields being
harvested and the fresh tubers are baked in the morning for the noon
meal, called papa waja. Papa waja is eaten with cheese, if this is
available, or with p"asalla, a kind of white or red clay which is mixed
with salt and water, and used as a sauce.
Fresh grains become available, not after they are harvested in
March and April, but after threshing in June or July. June is also the
month for processing ch'uñu and tunta, and when a sheep is usually
slaughtered. The colder temperatures make it easier to keep the meat
fresh during the butchering and making of ch'arki. In general, food
supplies are high throughout the dry season (May through early Septem¬
ber) .
August is a month of low activity in the agricultural cycle
since food processing is completed and planting (except for mi 11i

127
planting) has not yet begun. This is a time when many trading expedi¬
tions are undertaken. Trips are made to Bolivian valleys for corn, and
people from the herding and intermediate zone come to the lakeside
communities to stock up on minor tubers and beans. On such expeditions
kariiwa flour (kañiwagu) is carried as the main provision. It is mixed
with hot water and sugar to make a thick drink or porridge which is
said to provide strength for the trip. When one is too tired or cold
to go on, a cup of kaniv/aqu, or the flour eaten alone, is said to
immediately refortify one. It is also given to burros or llamas when
they become weak or tired.
For those lakeside households that have irrigated bean plots,
the reliance on stored potatoes and grains is broken in September by a
harvest of fresh beans. Other than this, little occurs to vary the
diet until November, wehn the coming of the rainy season and the green¬
ing of pastures allow cows to begin producing milk once again. Milk is
rarely consumed by adults, but some of it is fed to young children, and
it may be used in porridges. By far the majority goes into cheeses.
While most of them are sold or traded, one or two of the cheeses may be
consumed each month by the household.
Lakeside communities begin having fresh potatoes, beans, and
barley from their milli land as early as December. The quantities
harvested are usually very small, but they do serve to assuage the
"potato hunger" which is experienced at this time. The warming weather
of December and January causes what stored potatoes are left to sprout
and go bad, so ch 'ufiu and tunta are heavily relied on.

128
By February, food supplies are at a year-round low, although in
the lakeside zone a broad bean harvest serves to diversify the diet some¬
what. Despite the fact that food stores are at low levels, February is
the month in which the coming—and still insecure—harvest is celebrated.
The Fiesta of the Virgin of Candelaria early in the month involves a
slingshot duel in which the relative success of various productive zones
is foretold.
Both this celebration and Carnaval at the end of the month involve
preparation of special meals. Ritual kin ties are honored by gifts of
food. These may be a butchered and dressed animal, a basket of fruits
and bread, or simply the best of what products one has available at the
time. Relatives who come for the fiestas must also be fed. All of this
involves a heavy drain on food supplies at times when they are apt to be
at their lowest. It is believed, however, that an enthusiastic and
generous celebration of these festivals--especially Carnaval--he!ps to
insure a good harvest.
The breaking open of fallow ground (q"ulliña) in March is the
most strenuous agricultural activity of the year. The meals served to
ayni workers at this time are large and elaborate. They are considered
a major expense in the recruitment of a,yni labor. People remember that
after several consecutive years of drought in the late 1950s, they did
not have sufficient food stored away to prepare these meals, and as a
result, new land was simply not opened up for cultivation.
When workers come to participate in any a.yni activity, there is
a mid-morning break (kuk aquí 1i or gara aquí 1 i) at 10:00 a.m. in which

129
coca and caramels are offered. A midday meal is served--usually soup
and boiled potatoes or cli'uñu--and then an afternoon break (jayp'u agulli)
of lunch leftovers, and more caramels or coca, is provided at 4:00. Dur¬
ing q"ul1ina ayni the noon meal consists of soup with meat in it. A
sheep may have been specially slaughtered for the purpose. Slabs of
cheese are placed on top of the soup, and everyone is served at least
three bowls. After this, boiled potatoes, and boiled or toasted corn
and beans are served. What cannot be finished is put aside for the
afternoon break when it is eaten with more freshly boiled potatoes.
These meals are remembered fondly, and are seen partly as an incentive
to participate in a difficult job. They are also necessary, however,
to allow people to keep up the exhausting and backbreaking work of
g"u11 i ña on a daily basis for up to six weeks. Ideally, g"uili ña is
finished by mid-April when the grain harvest is already underway.
Besides the large meals associated with Candelaria and Carnaval
in February, there are other occasions when special ritual or festive
foods are served. The quinoa harvest begins in March and thus specially
prepared quinoa dishes are associated with the festivities of Holy
Week. The favorite is p'isoi which is a porridge made by boiling the
whole grains of quinoa before it is ground into flour. Deep fried meat,
or chicharrones, are associated with the festivals of San Juan in June
and Santa Rosa de Lima in August. For All Saints Day (November 1) dolls,
horses, and other objects are formed from bread dough and baked, and
are carried to the graves of one's deceased relatives. There they are
eaten along with raw sugar cane, popped corn, store-bought crackers and

130
much alcohol in order to "feast the dead." While wheat flour is pre¬
ferred for the bread toys, barley flour or quinoa are also used.
The diet of the herding zone is obviously not as closely tied
to the agricultural cycle as that of the other two zones. Meat is
available throughout the year and corn and grains are also available
year-round from the frequent trips to the Bolivian valleys. Only
vegetable products are subject to the yearly cycle. Large supplies of
tubers, churiu and beans are obtained from the lakeside zone in the dry
season, when they are readily available. These supplies must last
through the rest of the year.
Food Beliefs
The people of Sarata recognize the potato as the basis of their
subsistence. When they are asked what is the most important food it is
consistently the answer given. Despite the fact that it forms such a
small part of the diet of Sarata, people often say that quinoa is their
favorite food. It is a food associated with fiestas and is one of the
most appropriate gift foods for ritual kin. In fact, some occasions,
such as a child's first haircutting or rutuchi, require that k'is pina,
called in this context wawa ch'ixma, "child's pillow," be given to the
godparents of the ceremony. Other foods frequently mentioned as favor¬
ites are supplemental items such as oranges and hot peppers.
All foods have a high level of symbolic importance. Painter
(1979) has shown that foods, like mountains, rivers, and the sun, are
personified in Ayntara ritual. All foods have ritual names. Food in
general, for example, is manq'a but in ritual it is inamata, "what is

131
from our mother (the earth)." Quinoa (jup"a in Aymara) becomes
kinuwamama; beans (jawasa) become ch'ugupa, barley (siwara from the
Spanish cebada) becomes susulla and potatoes (ch 'uqi) become ispa 11a,
referring to potatoes which grow joined as twins. Throughout its
harvesting, processing, storage and preparation, food is treated with
great care. Janiw quri jacha.yanati is a common saying. Stored food is
referred to as gold, and the phrase translates "don't make the stored
food cry." This means that food should never be taken for granted, mis¬
handled, wasted or thrown out for no reason.
Evaluation of the Altiplano Diet
In the past few years there have been several evaluations of
the diet of the Peruvian altiplano . Mazess and Baker (1964) carried
out the first nutritional study in Puno, in the district of Nuñoa, north¬
west of Lake Titicaca and approximately 100 kilometers from Sarata.
The subsistence base of Nuñoa district is mixed herding and agriculture
and ecologically it corresponds to Sarata's intermediate zone or "sub-
alpine, subtropical wet plain" (Thomas 1976:41). Mazess and Baker sur¬
veyed 39 community and hacienda households, during the month of July.
In Nuñoa, as in Sarata, this is the time of the year when food supplies
are at their highest. Data in this survey was not broken down by age
and sex, but the average daily caloric intake was recorded at 3170
calories per person. This figure appears high, for when the normal dif¬
ferences in adult and child consumption are taken into account, it
would mean that adults were consuming at least 4000 calories per day
(Thomas 1972:11). Mazess and Baker concluded that the Nuñoa diet was

132
probably qualitatively and quantitatively "adequate," with the only
serious deficiency being in Vitamin A.
Picón-Reátegui (1963) reported that Peruvian miners living at
4400 meters consumed 3700 calories per day. In a study at Nuñoa, limited
to young adult males, the same researcher found that FAO recommendations
for caloric intake (2764 calories per day) were approached in their
diets (Picón-Reátegui 1968).
A study carried out by Gursky (1969), also in Nuñoa, produced
some very intresting results. In this investigation, carried out in
July, 22 households were surveyed in three locations: the town of Nuñoa,
a nearby hacienda, and a free-holding community. The results of this
survey, along with those of the other studies described are found in
Table 3-9. Gursky's survey data were broken down into age groups and
by sex. The hacienda sample had by far the lowest caloric consumption
for all age groups of both sexes. Somewhat higher figures were reported
for the town of Nuñoa. The highest values were consistently found in
the free-holding community.
This pattern was interpreted by Thomas (1972) as being related
to the fact that members of the community were participating in a road¬
building project at the time the survey was being carried out. He
suggested this made greater caloric consumption necessary. Roadbuilding
activities as observed in Sarata, however, were no more strenuous than
agricultural activities. In fact, because the work is for some unknown
party and is either unreimbursed (a form of taxation), or reimbursed
in cash or goods, workers tend to stretch out the job, taking longer

Table 3-9. Average daily caloric intake for district of Sarata and comparative data from
the department of Puno
Location
District
of Nunoa
District of
Nunoa, Hacienda
Sample
District of
Nuñoa, Town
Sample
District of
Nunoa, Com'unity
Sample
Di strict
of Nunoa
Miners at
4392 Meters
Di strict
of Nurioa
District of
Sara ta
Source
Tiiomas
1972
G u r s k y
1969
Gursky
1969
Gursky
1969
Mazess
and Baker
1964
Picón-
Re á teg ui
1963
Pi coo¬
pta t eq u i
1968
present
s tudy
Average daily caloric
intake, adult male
2180
2026
2127
3868
—
3700
2764
3500
Average daily caloric
intake, adult female
1726
1462
1649
2590
...
—
—
...
Daily caloric intake,
population average
...
3170
—
---
---

134
breaks and working less quickly than they would were the task for them¬
selves. A more reasonable explanation for the differences noted by
Gursky for the three locations is the direct control community members
exercise over their food resources (Gursky 1969).
Gross and Underwood (1971) have described how, as populations
move away from subsistence agriculture, they can face a decline in the
nutritional standards of the family. Community members in Sarata
recognize the security provided by their ties to the land. It is to
guarantee food for the household that they continue to work land on the
altiplano when they migrate seasonally to the Tambopata Valley or to the
cities. It seems likely that the lower caloric intakes Gursky (1969)
reported for the town and the hacienda are related to the fact that
these populations were forced to purchase for larger percentages of
their food--a minimum of 48.7 percent in the town and 45 percent on the
hacienda, as conpared with 2 percent in the community (Picón-Reátegui
1976:217).
Thomas (1972) resurveyed seven of the 22 households observed by
Gursky (1969). His survey included three families from the town, two
from the hacienda, and two from the free-holding community, although the
dietary data are not broken down by location. The consumption figures
collected by Thomas fell far below FAO recommendations adjusted for the
Andean population. In fact, when compared with the data he gathered on
energy expenditure, they appeared to reflect a negative caloric balance.
This is true even though his survey of the diet did not cover that
period of the year when food supplied were lowest.

135
Thomas (1972) explained this situation by saying that the popu¬
lation was either living off reserves of body fat, or expending lower
levels of energy than was previously thought. Since crop yields for
the year studied were normal and skinfold measurements suggested a
population in a normal caloric balance, he felt the second explanation
was more likely. Both Thomas and Picón-Reátegui (1976) have since argued
that the altiplano population adapts to low consumption levels by the
maintenance of low levels of activity.
This was most decidedly not the case in the communities of the
district of Sarata. The energy expenditure data provided by Thomas, and
the description of productive activity given by Picón-Reátegui do not
specify whether the households observed were in the town, the hacienda or
the community. It is unclear during what times of year and in what
way observations were made. There would clearly be differential rates of
activity for town, hacienda and community dwellers, as there would be
between people who are primarily agriculturalists and those who are
primarily herders.
Community dwellers are likely to have the highest caloric con¬
sumption because they control their own food supply, and they are also
the group, at least in Sarata, whose caloric expenditures are the
greatest. It may be the failure to link distinctive consumption patterns
with distinctive work patterns which caused Thomas' (1972) values
for caloric balance to appear negative or near negative. If consumption
data were weighted toward the town and hacienda (which they were) and
labor expenditure was calculated on the basis of tasks performed in

136
communities, then there would certainly be a large caloric discrepancy.
An evaluation of diet and energy expenditure cannot fail to take into
consideration the kinds of social and economic structures in which the
survey population is integrated.
There are two other reasons that Thomas (1972) may have recorded
such low values for caloric consumption. Picón-Rea'tegui (1976:213) notes
that natives of the district of Nuñoa generally consume two meals a day.
He goes on to say, however, that people who eat two daily meals usually
have "supplementary foods, such as boiled potatoes, toasted maize or
toasted barley. This habit of supplemental food intake is common in
people who must work out of doors away from the settlement (in agricul¬
tural or herding labor), and is usually not recorded in food consumption
surveys." If the midday meal, and possibly morning and evening mates
with sugar, kariiwa flour and bread, were not included in the diet sur¬
veys, nearly half the daily caloric intake would be overlooked.
Finally, it is important to remember that the population of the
altiplano has been taxed in food goods since before the Spanish Conquest.
Corn, ch1uñu, and meat were provided to the early Spanish encomenderos
just as to the Incas before them. Payments of food continue to be
required by local government officials to the present day, although
there is not necessarily a legal basis for such actions. Since stored
food represents a family's only means of assuring its members' survival
through years of drought or other types of crop damage, questions
about food resources can be extremely sensitive ones.
An outsider who comes to a community and asks to be allowed to
measure food consumption is likely to be met with suspicion if not

137
hostility. It is also likely that a family would attempt to minimize
its consumption in front of investigators since any demonstration of
abundance to powerful outsiders might result in a demand for payment or
a tax. This was consistently found to be a difficulty in Sarata, and
may also have played a role in the low values obtained by Thomas (1972).
The estimated daily caloric consumption for adult male community
members in Sarata is 3500 calories. While intakes are lower than this
from November through February, they rise during the planting season and
stay high through the dry season when stores are high and when processing
activities, migratory activities, trade trips and ocmmunity work projects
are carried out. Similar levels are maintained during planting. This
figure is close to that obtained by Gursky for the free-holding community
in Nunoa and given the level of energy expenditure of the population
these values appear far more reasonable than those obtained by Thomas.
The evidence from metabolic studies is that a higher caloric intake is
necessary at high altitude to maintain normal body weight and perform
normal activities (Picón-Reátegui 1976:224). Thus, it appears unlikely
that a high altitude population would show no apparent deficiency
diseases and have adequate reserves of body fat, on caloric intakes far
below FAO requirements.
Neither Thomas (1972) nor Baker et al. (1968) report widespread
deficiency diseases in Nuñoa. Interviews with medical personnel of
the health post in Sarata revealed that such diseases were not a serious
problem there. Cases of undernourishment in Sarata were always related
to breakdowns in the social network for the provision of food--older
people who did not receive help in cultivating from their children who

138
had migrated, for example, or children whose father had migrated and
whose mother became ill or died. Except in years of heavy crop loss
it appears that a diet adequate in calories and protein is maintained
in Sarata.
While the diet of Sarata was not analyzed for the adequacy of
other elements, it appears that supplemental foods play an important
role in meeting these nutritional requirements. P"asa11a, or clay sauce
used for baked potatoes, for example, is high in calcium, as is lluxta,
a type of ash chewed with coca (Mazess and Baker 1964). While tubers
and grains alone probably meet iron requirements, the consumption of
animal organs and blood supplement iron intakes. VJa.yk'a (hot peppers)
brought up from the Tambopata Valley, as well as carrots, are important
sources of Vitamin A. Potatoes are rich in ascorbic acid, but supple¬
mental vegetables and oranges augment its consumption. Thiamine, niacin,
and riboflavin appear to be provided in adequate quantities by potatoes
and grains.
Food Distribution within the Household
The principle for the distribution of food within an Aymara
household is that those who work, eat more. One of the strongest cri¬
ticisms of another family member is to call them manq'a q'ara, which can
be roughly translated as "eats for nothing." Because men and women
share equally in agricultural work, they are entitled to equal shares of
food.
Children generally are nursed until they are two and a half to
three years old, with soft foods given to supplement nursing from an

139
early age. After weaning, they are served along with adults. They
usually receive a somewhat smaller portion than adults but then are
given as many refills as they ask for. Children are never, however,
"begged to eat." It is assumed they will learn to recognize their own
food needs, and will eat according to their hunger. Older family members
usually perform more sedentary tasks and their consumption tends to taper
off with age along with their activity.
Energy Expenditure
The Division of Labor
In all societies certain types of productive tasks are allocated
to particular types of people. It is this fundamental cooperation which
binds individuals together into families and which leads to the formation
of other more complex units of social organization. Among the Aymara
of Sarata, the division of productive labor is quite flexible. While
households could not maintain themselves without the labor contributions
of each member of the family, a good deal of interchangeability of tasks
and responsibilities is maintained. This is especially true for male
and female adult household members. Children, older people, or those
who otherwise cannot perform the full range of productive tasks, do work
which is suited to their particular abilities. Specialists within
communities are few. Items such as woven goods, clothing or basketry,
are either made within the household, or bought from the local commer¬
cial center.
Examples of the types of productive tasks performed by males
and females in Sarata communities are given in Table 3-10. Both males

Table 3-10. Division of labor by sex in Aymara communities of the district of Sarata
Task
I. AGRICULTURE
IÍ. PROCESSING OF
FOODS
III. CONSTRUCTION
IV. TEXTILE
MANUFACTURE
Performed Equally Performed Most Performed Most Performed Exclu- Performed exclu-
by Both Sexes Often by Females3 Often by Males*5 sively by Females sively by Males
Harvest potatoes
Weed
Buttress planted rows
Harvest coffee
Carry seed or har¬
vested product on
back
Sort potatoes
Turn earth when
opening fallow
land
Place seed in
ground when
planting
Use foot plow
when opening
fallow land
Open earth with
foot plow when
planting
Lead team of
oxen plowing
Pull plow (with¬
out oxen)
Cut barley with
scythes
Thresh grains Make cheese
Make ch'uñu, tunta
Process ch’arki
Make earthen ovens
Carry earth and rocks
Make adobe
Dig out rocks
Work in p"ayna (com-
muni ty labor projects)
Stoneworking
Lay adobe
Roof a house
Kni t
Crochet
Spin and twist wool
Weave sacks, blankets,
inkuna (carrying
cloths used by both
sexes)
Weave wayasa
(carrying cloth
used by women)
Weave poncho,
bayeta (home-
spun wool)

Table 3-10--Continued
Task
Performed Equally
by Both Sexes
Performed Most
Often by Females*3
Performed Most
Often by Males*3
Performed Exclu¬
sively by reinales
Performed
sively by
Exclu-
Males
HOUSEHOLD
MAINTENANCE
Cool- s
Child care (three
and up)
Child care (hirth
to three years)
POLITICAL PART!
Cl PAT I ON AMD
RIGHTS
1- Attend community
meetings
Own and inherit land
on altiplano
Own and inherit land
in Tambopata Valley
Speak at commun¬
ity meetings
Serve as politi-
cal official
RITUAL
OFFICES
Can be healer
Can make ritual
offerings
Celebrate fiestas by
drinking and dancing
Serve as godparent or
ritual sponsor
Can be marani
(who makes it
rain)
Serve as alferado
(giver of fiesta)
But also performed by males
But also performed by females

142
and females participate in agricultural activity. Within this general
realm, men are generally felt better able to manage the Andean foot
plow or wiri and their labor is also preferred to pull the larger metal-
tipped wooden plow in the process called jaqi arma. Women are felt to
be better at harvesting and at other jobs that require stooping or
short quick movements.
Most agricultural activities such as plowing and planting are
actually performed by work teams composed of both sexes. In the initial
plowing (q"ulliña), tv/o men ideally break open a strip of fallow land
with their plows, while a woman lifts and pushes the dirt they have
loosened to either side, forming the surcos or rows to be planted.
Planting is preferably done by a man and a woman, the men opening the
ground with a plow, the woman inserting the seed. It is often not pos¬
sible, however, to carry out these activities in the preferred manner,
i.e., with both sexes present. In such cases, women may use both the
foot plow and large plow and they may be the ones who break the ground in
planting. When a female member of a work team is lacking, men may move
the earth in q'' u 11 i ña, or insert the seed when planting. In other types
of agricultural activities, such as cutting and threshing grains,
gathering totora, or carrying the seed or harvest, tasks have no asso¬
ciation with either sex. These activities are simply performed by the
person for whom it is more convenient at the time.
Mon-agricultural activities are also shared by women and men.
Both sexes are equally associated with the care of the animals. Both
men and women spin, weave, knit, crochet, and sew, although there are

143
some differences in the items they produce. Men weave a rough, home¬
spun wool cloth and sew their own clothes and women's puliera skirts
from it. They also weave lunch cloths (inkuna), ponchos, blankets,
and large woolen sacks (costales). They knit wool hats (ch’ullu),
scarves, and sweaters for themselves and their children. Women weave
their carrying cloths (wayasa), lunch cloths (inkuria), and blankets.
They spin and knit sweaters and make other clothing for themselves and
their children. Women are considered the best weavers and people con¬
trast the wayasa, which are often intricately patterned, with the home-
spun made by men as evidence.
Both men and women travel to trade and engage in commerce, but
by far the largest number of commercialists are women. It is usually
women who manage the household's money and make decision about pur¬
chases or sales. If goods are carried to market it is the woman who
sells them. Cooking for the household is usually done by the woman
unless for some reason she cannot be home. In periods of separation,
such as during the periods of seasonal migration, both men and women
cook for themselves.
Responsibilities for the care of the children are equally divided
except while a child is still nursing. Even during this period fathers
will sometimes care for the baby for short periods. Child care activi¬
ties are minimized, however, in several ways. First, children too
young to walk accompany the mother in a wayasa, or carrying cloth, on
her back. Carried in this way the child can be with her throughout the
day--whether she is herding, engaging in agricultural activity, or

144
marketing. If a woman is performing a task in which it is impossible
to continue to carry the child, such as in most agricultural labor, she
sets it between soft bundles in a place where it can be easily watched.
Older children are extensively relied on to care for their younger
siblings. By the time a child is four years old it is considered capable
of watching a younger child if a parent is nearby. While at this age
it can do little to protect or care for the baby, it can shout for an
adult in the event of a problem. By the time a child is seven or eight
years old, he or she is felt fully capable of handling child care
responsibilities.
Children take responsibility for themselves and begin to engage
in productive activity at a very early age. By the time they are four,
children require little attention from their elders and by age six,
they are beginning to actively participate in household tasks: herding,
carrying water, and firewood on occasion, gathering animal dung and
running errands. Children are usually very proud to assume such respon¬
sibilities since their parents convey to them that their activities are
of real value to the household. Thus, while the child's tasks are often
integrated with play, the child knows that the jobs are important and
cannot be neglected.
As they grow older, progressively more difficult and responsible
tasks are given to children. Spinning and weaving are taught and they
may be sent on longer or more compliecated errands. The amount of time
which children spend helping their parents depends, of course, on
whether or not they go to school and this, in turn, depends on the distance

145
to the schoolhouse, the valuation of education by the parents (which is
usually high) as well as on the degree to which the children's labor
participation is essential.
Children are not expected to perform heavy agricultural labor
until they are ten to twelve years old and are not considered capable
of working like an adult until they are 15 or more. Full participation
in such labor is marked by the acceptance of the child's work as payment
in full for an ayni obligation. This marker of adult status is eagerly
sought by young people.
The labor expenditure of older people in Aymara communities
varies widely. If a couple has many children who have remained in the
community, they will probably be able to rely on them to perform most
of their heavier agricultural tasks, in return for less strenuous
services such as child care or food processing. The health of the per¬
son is obviously a factor of great importance, with some people continu¬
ing to perform heavy work until well into their nineties while others
must give up all but sedentary tasks at a far earlier age.
It should be noted that a person never gives up work completely.
Older family members who cannot perform heavy tasks may sort seed
during planting, winnow grains which have been threshed, or cook for
the others, but they always are included in work activities in some
way. The same is true for family members who are disabled or handi¬
capped. They are always integrated into the productive system. This
not only reflects a real need for their labor participation, but also
the Aymara attitude that one validates one's status as an adult and

146
position in the community by performing useful work. Participation in
productive activity gives the minimum standing necessary to enter into
essential relationships of reciprocity. A person who depended com¬
pletely upon others for his or her subsistence would be considered
something less than a full human being.
Exchanges of Labor
Arrangements for the exchanges of labor are widespread in the
Andes and are essential in the communities of Sarata. Such exchanges
are mechanisms which allow their users to come to terms with variations
in the supply of and demand for labor at the household level. Annual
fluctuations in the demand for labor based on the agricultural cycle
are one example of such variation. The exchange of productive work
enables individuals to plow, plant, and harvest their lands at the
appropriate time. Micro-variation in the climate of the altiplano
assures that even within a particular ecological zone, the "appropriate
time" to perform an activity will not be the same for everyone's fields.
Another type of variation with which labor exchanges deal
successfully is the differential access to land, labor, and cash which
households experience at different times in their developmental cycle.
At some points in its existence a household may have more land than it
can work with the labor it has available. Perhaps both members of a
young couple have received their full inheritance before any of their
children are old enough to help work the land, for example. In this
case, they may enter into sharecropping arrangements (wak"i) with some
of it. Such arrangements usually involve one party providing a piece

147
of land while the other provides labor, seed, and any other inputs
with the harvest divided equally between the two. Many young couples,
however, do not receive their full inheritance in land until later
in life, and they may experience a need to enter into wak"i arrangements
in order to gain access to that resource.
A household with grown, but not yet independent children often
finds itself in a favorable situation with regard to labor, and some
of its members may decide to work for others in return for cash (mink'a).
If, however, these young adults later migrate, either to Tambopata or
the cities, it is likely that their parents would find themselves short
of labor and they would have to hire mink'a labor with the money sent to
them by their absent children.
The most common and most important form of labor exchange in
Sarata communities is ayni, which was explained previously with
reference to exchange of food. The basic principle of ayni is that a
person reciprocates for an initial prestation of labor (or goods) at
a time when it is either easier for them to fulfill it or when the
reciprocation will be of greater value to the other party. Ayni is a
way of dealing with the climatic variation mentioned, and with the
demand for a large work force at certain critical times of the year.
It is relied on to some extent at almost all phases of a household's
domestic cycle.
A final type of labor arrangement which can be considered a
type of exchange is collective work. When the labor is for the benefit
of an individual or a household, as in the case of the building or a

148
house, the exchange is classified as ayni and the recipient of the
labor is obligated to assist all who worked with their own houses when
they are engaged in construction. If the labor is expended on a project
which benefits the community as a whole, such as on a sheep bath or a
school building, the work is called p"ayna. Since everyone is working
for the common good, no obligations are incurred although a fine may be
imposed on community members who do not participate.
Annual and Regional Variation in Energy Expenditure
Energy expenditure in the district of Sarata varies from month
to month in each of the three natural life zones. There are four basic
periods of energy expenditure in the lakeside and intermediate zones,
where agriculture is practiced. These correspond fairly well to the
planting, growing, harvest, and postharvest periods described by Thomas
(1972:123) for Nurioa. The planting season, which runs from mid- to
late August through early to mid-November, is a time when energy expendi¬
ture is relatively high. In the lakeside zone, a peak in the number
of calories expended in the planting process is reached in September,
reflecting the earlier agricultural schedule, while in the intermediate
zone higher labor expenditure is recorded for October and November.
If only agropecuarial activities were recorded, labor expendi¬
tures for November would be small in both zones, for planting is com¬
pleted everywhere by the middle of the month. Much time in November,
however, is devoted to the building of new structures in the household
complex, or the repair of existing buildings, storehouses, or corrals.

149
Even if a family is not engaged in a project of their own, they are
likely to be involved in lending ayni services for someone else's
construction at this time.
December brings a period of lower caloric expenditure in the
intermediate zone, corresponding to the growing season. This trend
continues through January and would continue into February as well, were
it not for the festivities of Candelaria and Carnaval. In the lakeside
zone, there is a slight rise in activity in December, as weeding begins
and planted rows are buttressed. The mi Hi harvest also begins in Decem¬
ber in the lakeside zone. Labor investment is in general more evenly
distributed throughout the year near the lake, since the availability
of water and other microclimatic conditions make it possible to spread
planting and harvesting and consequently other subsidiary activities,
over a longer period of time.
Caloric expenditures rise sharply in March with the opening of
fallow ground (q"ul 1 iria) and reach the highest levels of the year, in
both the intermediate and lakeside zones, in April. This is because
q"ul1 i ña is still being carried out in April and, at the same time, the
harvest of potatoes and grains has begun. Activity levels begin
tapering off in May, although they are still high, and continue declin¬
ing until they reach a year-round low level in July, in the middle of
the dry season.
Yearly variation in labor expenditure follows a different
pattern in the herding (non-agricultural) zone. The busiest times of
the year are January, when most animals are sheared, and June, when

150
sheep are bathed and marked. For much of the wet season (November
through April) young and pregnant animals may be herded separately,
which requires a large investment of labor. There is less variation
from month to month, however. Herding is a daily activity and one
which must be performed throughout the year.
The number of calories expended per household each month is
diagrammed in Figure 3-4. There is not a great deal of variation be¬
tween intermediate and lakesize zones, but daily expenditures are
slightly higher in the herding zone. In the two lower zones children
are responsible for 13 to 20 percent of all agropecuarial and household
labor. In the herding zone, they perform up to 30 percent of such tasks
Herding households have, on the average, one to two more children than
their counterparts in other zones. On an individual level, activity
levels for both adults and children are high there, even when the con¬
tributions of additional children to the household are considered. Thus
it appears that a herding household depends upon having a larger number
of children in order to meet its total labor needs.
A Summary of Subsistence in Sarata
The three natural life zones of the district of Sarata rely on
different combinations of productive resources. Differences in land¬
scape, climate, and in the number of animals owned also lead to patterns
of exploitation of resources which vary significantly. In all three
zones, however, primary productivity is low compared to world averages.
To obtain even relatively low levels of productivity, heavy
expenditures of labor are required. While labor requirements are high

months
Figure 3-4. Monthly expenditure of energy in agropecuaria! tasks in natural lifezones of the district
of Sarata

152
throughout the year, some periods are more critical than others. During
planting and harvest, large quantities of labor must be invested during
short periods of time, which are rigidly defined by the climatic charac¬
teristics of a given agricultural cycle.
During other time periods, such as the dry season, and the months
of November through February, there is less rigid definition of the
periods during which tasks must be accomplished. Many of the activities
performed in these periods are "optional" in the sense that the household
would not suffer in its subsistence i fthey were neglected for one year,
although their continued neglect could cause problems. Activities such
as weaving, house repair and rebuilding of fences fall into this category.
Migratory activity in Sarata is organized around critical periods of
labor expenditure. It is made possible by the flexibility permitted at
other times of the year, in conjunction with the flexible household
division of labor.
Energy consumption in the district of Sarata is generally
adequate. It must be remembered, however, that the consumption patterns
described in this chapter reflect inputs from seasonal migration as well
as the agropecuarial production of the households. Also, the observa¬
tions on which the consumption data in this chapter are based were made
during a relatively good year for agricultural production.
The basic descriptive data presented here will form the basis for
a detailed analysis of household energy flow in Chapter Four. The
variables of production, consumption and energy expenditure will be
integrated in an attempt to deal with the flow of energy through the
households of Sarata. In this way, conclusions will be drawn about the

153
energetic adequacy of the altipi ano resource base and the energetic
role of seasonal migration.

154
Table 3-11. Agropecuarial activities in the natural life zones of the
District of Sarata by month
Lakeside Zone
August
Early planting of potatoes,
minor tubers, barley, and
other products
Preparation of onion seedlings
for resetting
Gathering lake reeds for
animals
September
Preparation of raised rows for
potato planting
Preparation of dung for potato
pi anting
Planting of quinoa, oats, bar¬
ley, rye, potatoes, and minor
tubers
October
Planting of potatoes, minor
tubers, and vegetables
Herding
November
Second weeding and buttressing
of rows for early potatoes and
minor tubers
Herding
December
Harvest of early beans, potatoes,
barley, and minor tubers
Weeding and buttressing of rows
for regular potatoes and minor
tubers
Herding
Castration of sheep
Weaving
Repair of walls
Wedding celebrations
Reset onions
Harvest of irrigated beans
Gathering lake reeds for
a nima1s
Herding
Celebration of the fiesta of
Exaltacidn de la Cruz
Weedi ng and buttressing of rows for
early potatoes and minor tubers
Mi 1 ki ng
Mi Iking
Birth of sheep
Building repair
Weaving
Weeding beans
Reset onions
Herding
Mi Iking

155
Table 3-ll--Continued
Lakeside Zone--Continued
January
Second weeding and buttressing of
rows for regular potatoes and
minor tubers
Shearing
February
Harvest one-half of beans
Herding
Mi 1king
March
Plowing of fallow land
Harvest of quinoa, beans, onions,
and other vegetables
Herding
April
Harvest of barley and oats
Harvest of potatoes and minor
tubers
May
Harvest of potatoes and minor
tubers
Herding
Milking
June
Butchering
Bathing and marking of sheep
Processing of k"aya, ch'uñu,
tunta (freeze-dried tubers)
Processing of ch'arki (dried
meat)
July
Planting beans
P"ayna labor
Weeding of onions and other
vegetables
Herding
Mi 1king
Celebration of the fiestas of
Candelaria and Carnaval
Mi Iking
Birth of sheep
Planting of irrigated beans
Plowing fallow land
Herding
Mi 1 king
Celebration of the fiesta of
Santa Cruz
Gathering lake reeds for animals
Weeding of irrigated beans
Threshing and drying barley, oats,
guinoa, beans
Herding
Celebration of the fiesta of
San Juan
Gathering lake reeds for animals
Herding
Gathering lake reeds for animals

Table 3-ll--Continued
Intermediate Zone
August
Herding
Castration of sheep
Repair of walls
Feeding animals
Weaving
Wedding celebrations
September
Preparation of dung for potato
planting
Plantinq of quinoa, kaniwa,
barley, oats, rye, and some
potatoes
Herding
Feeding animals
Celebration of the fiesta of
Exaltación de la Cruz
October
Planting potatoes
Herding
Feeding animals
November
Herding
Potato planting
Building repair
Mi 1king
Weaving
December
Weeding and buttressing of pota¬
toes and minor tubers
Weeding of bean fields near lake
Herding
Mil king
January
Second weeding and buttressing
of potatoes and minor tubers
Shearing
Weeding beans near lake
Herding
Milking
February
Herding
Mi 1 king
Celebration of fiestas of
Candelaria and Carnaval

157
Table 3-11--Continued
Intermediate Zone--Continued
March
Plowing of fallow land
Harvest of quinoa, kam'wa
Harvest of beans near lake
Apri 1
Harvest of barley, oats, rye
Harvest of potatoes and minor
tubers
Plowing of fallow land
Max
Harvest of potatoes and minor
tubers
Herding
June
Butchering
Bathing and marking of sheep
Processing of k"aya, ch1uñu and
tunta (freeze-dried potatoes)
Processing of ch'arki (dried
meat)
July
Planting beans near lake
P"ayna labor
Herding
Butchering
Herding
Mi 1king
Butchering
Herding
Milking
Feeding animals
Celebration of fiesta of Santa
Cruz
Threshing and drying of barley,
oats, quinoa, and beans
Herding
Celebration of the fiesta of San
Juan
Feeding animals
Bathing and marking of camelids
Castration and marking of cattle
Processing of ch'arki (dried meat)
Feeding animals
Herding Zone
August
Vaccination of cattle
Castration of sheep
Birth of camelids
Herding
Wall repair
Wedding celebrations

158
Table 3-11--Continued
Herding Zone-Continued
September
Herding
Separation of mating camelids
and pregnant sheep
October
Herding
November
Herding
Seperation of pregnant sheep and
newborn camelids
December
Herding
Care of newborn sheep
January
Herding
Care of newborn sheep, cattle,
and camelids
February
Herding
Sheep and cattle births
Separation of young animals
March
Herding
Milking
Apri 1
Herding
Separation of young animals
Celebration of the fiesta of
Exaltación de la Cruz
Separation of pregnant sheep and
newborn camelids
Mi 1king
Building repair
Birth of sheep
Cattle and camel id births
Milking
Mi 1 king
Marking cattle
Shearing
Celebration of the fiestas of
Candelaria and Carnaval
Milking
Separation of young animals and
of pregnant camelids
Mi 1king
Butchering

159
Table 3-11--Continued
Herding Zone--Continued
May
Herding
Separation of young animals
June
Bathing and marking of sheep
Herding
Separation of young animals
July
Herding
Butchering
Separation of pregnant female
camel ids
Celebration of the fiesta of
Santa Cruz
Butchering
Processing of ch'arki (dried meat)
Celebration of the fiesta of
San Juan
Bathing and marking of camel ids
Castration of cattle

CHAPTER FOUR
SEASONAL MIGRATION AND ENERGY DEFICIENCY
IntroducLion
One of the most striking impressions which a visitor to the
altiplano receives is that people seem to work very hard and to have
very little to show for it. Household members work from early in the
morning until after dark and often rise in the middle of the night to
travel. Agricultural production is painfully labor intensive. By the
time a potato field is plowed, planted, weeded, its rows buttressed, and
then weeded and buttressed again--all by hand--the cultivator has prac¬
tically become familiar with each plant on an individual basis. Animals
are indeed cared for individually and each one is given a distinctive
name and marking. Products of all types seem to be forever carried on
the back, both by men and women, from one place to another.
To an outsider, the way in which altiplano dwellers force, or
coax, a harvest out of their environment is a marvel of determination.
They build irrigation ditches to bring water from where it is to where
it is not; build terraces to hold the earth where it would not otherwise
remain; plant in the flood plain and then hurry to harvest the product
before the lake rises; and they try, unsuccessfully so far, to find
ways to control frost, hail, and drought. Despite all of this industri¬
ousness, the inhabitants of the altiplano rarely seem to be ahead of the
game. There are exceptions, of course--people who have become very
160

161
wealthy--but in their cases the money rarely comes from agricultural
or livestock production.
The suggestion that the altiplano environment is energy-
deficient thus seems intuitively accurate to the observer. This is per¬
haps the overriding impression that is given by the activities and the
landscape. In order to proceed with scientific investigation, however,
one must have more than impressions on which to base hypotheses. The
flow of energy through the altiplano environment must be analyzed, quan¬
tified, and its sufficiency or insufficiency determined.
The low primary productivity of the al ti piano has been described.
Low productivity is the evidence most commonly given for energy deficiency
in the region. A previous study of energy flow on the altiplano was
carried out by Thomas (1972) in the district of Nuñoa, in Puno. Thomas
hypothesized that energy was limiting for the Nuñoa population, but that
certain behavioral and physiological adaptations allowed people to live
successfully in their environment. While environmental constraints on
production would theoretically prevent the human population from receiv¬
ing sufficient resources to meet their metabolic requirements, the
population of Nuñoa showed no signs of malnutrition or other forms of
stress related to insufficient energy resources. For this reason, Thomas
suggested that they possessed behavioral adaptations which allowed them
to live successfully in the altiplano environment.
Thomas' conclusions appear to be correct, but there are some
problems with his reasoning. He states that energy is limiting for the
human population, but that their condition does not reflect that

I
162
I
\
I
| limitation, and then takes this fact to mean that they have adapted
behaviorally. Were there an independent measure of energy deficiency,
the argument would hold, as Smith (1979) has suggested. Since there
|
was not such a measure, each condition becomes dependent on the other and
none are substantiated.
There were also some problems encountered in Thomas' study (1972)
when data were extrapolated to higher levels and comparisons of produc¬
tion, consumption, and expenditure of energy were made. When data on
energy production were compared with energy consumption, a ratio of
nearly one to one was obtained. Such a ratio would indicate an extremely
precarious resource situation for the population of Nurioa. It would be
virtually impossible for a population to subsist under these conditions
and certainly a healthy population with no evidence of hypocaloric
stress could not be maintained. Thomas' figures on energy consumption
were so low as to indicate a possible negative caloric balance. Several
possible explanations for such low figures were presented in Chapter
Three; it is probable that for various reasons, not all food intake was
recorded. Thomas, however, interpreted the situation differently. Skin
fold tests and other measures of nutritional status revealed a population
that was obviously in positive caloric balance, and Thomas suggested
that low levels of energy expenditure made this possible. He suggested
that a sedentary lifestyle was an adaptive strategy at high altitude.
This was not verified, however, with field measurements of the actual
activity levels of households throughout the year. The assertion of low
activity levels, in fact, seems to contradict observed behavior in most
i
I
f
f

163
areas of the altiplano. Labor expenditure is to some degree seasonsl,
but levels are high throughout the year (see Figure 3-4). Average levels
of daily energy expenditure as measured in Sarata are nearly twice
Thomas' (1972) figures for average daily adult caloric intake.
Comparisons between total production and total consumption or
between consumption and expenditure can be misleading, however. It is
often difficult to be sure that one is including all sources and all
uses of energy. The ways in which flows of energy are interrelated and
may serve as checks upon one another are ignored, as are feedbacks which
facilitate productive processes. Input-output type analyses are in many
ways artificial since they do not consider all of the sources, trans¬
formations, uses, and losses of energy within a system.
The Flow of Energy through Altiplang Households
Description
A schematic diagram of energy transfer in the biosphere was
presented in Figure 3-3. Human beings derive benefit from each transfer
in this sequence, not just from the calories consumed directly. Incoming
solar radiation warms the atmosphere. It also drives the hydrological
and weather cycles on which humans depend. As consumers of plants and
animals, all of the trophic levels in the biological part of the chain
are of importance to human populations (Odum 1975:63).
As energy moves unidirectionally along this pathway, much of
it is simply dissipated--that is, lost as heat into the atmosphere.
Energy of higher quality results from each transformation in the pathway.
Energy quality refers to the fact that various forms of energy differ in

164
their ability to do work. A calorie of dispersed heat, for example, can
do no work at all, a calorie of sunlight can do very little, and a
calorie of petroleum--a great deal. Higher quality forms of energy are
the result of the concentration of dilute sources, which usually occurs
when a dilute form of energy interacts with some other, more concentrated
energy source. Large quantities of dilute energy are used up in this
process, but what remains can do more work, drive more processes and
involve more other factors (Odum 1976:33).
Human systems rely on large quantities of high-quality energy
for their survival and reproduction, lie have learned to reinvest high-
quality energy (such as fertilizers and pesticides or human labor) into
energy-transforming processes such as agricultural production in order
to increase their productivity. The number of calories expended in
these "feedbacks" may actually be far greater than the number of calories
they make available—that is, they may not possess net energetic
efficiency. This is the case in hiqhly mechanized and fossil fuel-
dependent Ü.S. agriculture, for example. Often, however, human groups
are willing to make such investments in order to insure the availability
of energy of the necessary quality and form.
The present study relies on techniques of energy-circuit model¬
ing and model simulation to analyze the flow of energy through households
in the district of Sarata. Energy circuit models are diagrams of the
essential energetic processes of complex systems. Diagrams are con¬
structed in such a manner that the laws of thermodynamics are obeyed—
that is, energy flowing through the system is conserved and all processes

165
degrade some energy (Alexander and Sipe 1979). A set of symbols for
diagramming energy flow, which were developed by H. T. Odum, is presented
in Figure 4-1.
Households were chosen at the units of analysis in the present
study. The decision was made to collect data at the household level
because households are the units which manage the production, storage,
and expenditure of energy. It is at the level of the household that
scarcity of energy resources would be felt, and that the decision to
migrate to alleviate the problems caused by scarcity would be made.
Once the units of analysis were decided upon and their boundaries
established, models were developed which attempted to accurately repre¬
sent the flow of energy through each of the households. These models are
presented in Figures 4-2 through 4-5. External sources of energy were
identified, which in all three cases included natural energy from
sunlight and hiqh-quality energy of various types which was imported
from the regional or national economy by means of cash purchase or
trade. The large bullet-shaped group symbol in the diagram indicates a
producer subsystem--one that concentrates low-quality energy into
higher quality forms. The hexagonal group symbol represents a consumer
subsystem--one which requires high-quality energy in order to survive.
The storage symbol N represents solar radiation adsorbed by the system,
and I represents the energy embodied in the inventory of imported goods
which households in all three zones maintain.
Other storages of energy in the system are plant biomass, which
includes both crops and pastures and which is represented by the

166
Energy Source
Heat Sink (Outflow of Degraded Energy)
Interaction Process of Several Energy Flows
Production Subsystem
Consumer Subsystem
Figure 4-1. Energy flow symbols
(From Odum and Odum 1976)

Figure 4-2, A simplified model of energy flow in a household of the lakeside or intermediate zones of the
district of Sarata

en
co
Figure 4.3 A detailed model of energy flow in a household of the lakeside or intermediate zones of the
district of Sarata

Figure 4-4. A simplified model of energy flow in a household of the herding zone of the district of Sarata

Figure 4-5. A detailed model of energy flow in a household of the herding zone of the district of Sarata

171
storage A in the agricultural subsystem; the animals owned by the house¬
hold, represented by the storage L in the livestock subsystem; and
human beings, represented by the storage H in the human subsystem.
The goods of both plant and animal origin which are preserved and stored
are represented by F.
Flows of energy throughout the system were determined. The most
obvious of these is the passing of energy along from one trophic level
to another. Humans in the households of Sarata act as both primary and
secondary consumers (they eat plants and animals). Thus, in the lakeside
and intermediate zones, there are flows of energy from both the agricul¬
tural and livestock subsystems to the human subsystem. In the herding
zone, all agricultural products are obtained through trade or purchase.
In addition to the passing of energy along the food chain there
are feedbacks from the higher parts of the chain to the lower parts.
Humans in both the lakeside and intermediate zones of the district invest
their labor in agricultural activity in order to increase the productivity
of this subsystem. In the herding zone, where natural pastures predomi¬
nate, this was not the caseJ In all three zones humans expand labor in
the care of animals. In all three zones as well, there is feedback from
the livestock to the agricultural subsystem, in the form of dung, which
serves to fertilize; and in a few cases in the form of productive labor,
such as the pulling of a plow. In every productive process and every
storage of energy there is some loss or depreciation of energy and these
^In some areas, herders irrigate portions of their pastureland
for their animals. These are called bofedales (Palacios Ríos 1977). In
this case a feedback between humans and the primary production system
would exist.

172
losses are included in the model. Finally, the imports to and exports
from the larger economy which households engage in are considered.
Once the storages and flows of energy in each of the households
were diagrammed, the next step was to determine the quantities of energy
involved. Tables 4-1, 4-2, and 4-3 give the initial values for each of
the flows and storages. The products and activities embodied in these
values and the calculations involved in arriving at an energetic equiva¬
lent are summarized in Appendices Two, Three, and Four. Once the models
were calibrated, they were subjected to computer simulation. Each flow
and storage in models such as the ones presented can be expressed
numerically as a non-linear differential equation. In the present study
these equations were translated into Dynamo II programming language for
the purposes of the simulation. The programs for the simulations can be
found in Appendix Four.
Computer simulation serves too basic purposes. First, a computer
simulation which produces reasonable results serves to verify the model
and its calibration. If the structure of the model does not approximate
a real-life situation, then the computer simulation will produce awkward
or impossible results. If the evaluations attached to flows are not
reasonable in relation to one another and to the storages, this will also
produce results which are incompatible with systems which could exist in
the real world.
Secondly, once a model is verified as being a reasonable replica
of a real-life situation, hypothetical changes can be introduced in
order to determine what effects they would have upon the system. In all

Table 4-1. Names and initial values for flows and storages in Figure 4-2 (lakeside zone)
low/Storage
Name
Initial
(xlO6
Value
kcal)
See Note'
Flow
Name of Flow
RO
Solar Radiation
30.9640
X
103
1
R1
Sunlight Not Absorbed
20.6430
X
103
2
R2
Absorbed Sunlight
10.3210
X
103
3
R3
Gross Primary Productivity (GPP)
12.865
4
R4
Feedback fo Agricultural Subsystem
0.547
5
R5
Respiration/Degraded Energy from Agricultural Subsystem
2.700
6
R6
Net Primary Productivity (NPP) to Livestock Subsystem
5.518
7
R7
Net Primary Productivity (NPP) to Human Subsystem
4.101
8
R8
Production of High-Quality Energy—Livestock
6.113
9
R9
Feedback to Livestock Subsystem
0.060
10
RIO
Degraded Energy from Livestock Subsystem
2.050
11
Rll
Livestock Production to Storage for Household
0.5518
12
R12
Feedback of Livestock to Agricultural Subsystem
1.4009
13

Table 4-1--Continued
low/Storage
Name
Initi a 1 Value
(xlO6 kcal)
See Note'
F1 o w
Name of Flow
R13
Production of High-Quality Energy--Human
26.608
14
R14
Labor Expended in Household Maintenance
0.546
15
R15
Metabolism/Degraded Energy from Human Subsystem
11.43
16
R16
Exports from Human Subsystem
12.959
17
R17
Human Feedback to Production in Agricultural Subsystem
1.293
18
R18
Human Feedback to Livestock Subsystem
0.234
19
R19
Import Storage to Human Subsystem
9.484
20
R20
Imports from Outside Household System
9.532
21
R21
Flow from Household Production Storage to Human
Subsystem
4.635
22
R22
Depreciation of Household Production Storage
0.018
23
R23
Depreciation of Imported Goods
0.048
24
R24
Livestock Crowding Factor
2.050
25
R25
Human Feedback to Harvest and Processing of Agricul¬
tural Subsystem Production
0.146
26

Table 4-1--Continued
Flaw/Storage
Name
Initial Value
(xlO° kcal)
See Notea
Storaqe
Name of Storaqe
N
Natural Energy
15.482 x 103
27
A
Plant Biomass
23.124
28
L
Livestock
16.882
29
H
Human
228.600
30
I
Inventory of Imported Goods
2.412
31
F
Household Production Storage
2.326
32
aNotes for this table can be found in Appendix II.

Table 4-2. Names and initial values for flows and storages in Figure 4-2 (intermediate zone)
Flow/Storage
Name
Initial Value
(xlO® kcal)
See Note3
Flow
Name of Flow
RO
Solar Radiation
48.433 x 103
1
R1
Sunlight Not Absorbed
32.281 x 103
2
R2
Absorbed Sunlight
16.141 x 103
3
R3
Gross Primary Productivity (GPP)
24.179
4
R4
Feedback to Agricultural Subsystem
0.732
5
R5
Respiration/Degraded Energy from Agricultural Subsystem
5.894
6
R6
Net Primary Production (NPP) to Livestock Subsystem
16.514
7
R7
Net Primary Production (PPP) to Hunan Subsystem
1.040
8
R8
Production of High-Quality Energy--Livestock
17.117
9
R9
Feedback to Livestock Subsystem
0.239
10
RIO
Degraded Energy from Livestock Subsystem
5.790
11
Rll
Livestock Production to Storage for Household
1 .028
12
R12
Feedback of Livestock to Agricultural Subsystem
4.269
13

Table 4-2--Continued
Flow/Storage
Name
Initial Value
(xlO6 kcal}
See Note
Flow
Name of Flow
R13
Production of High-Quality Energy--Human
22.741
14
R14
Labor Expended in Household Maintenance
0.546
15
R15
Metabolism/Degraded Energy from Human Subsystem
12.116
16
R16
Exports from Human Subsystem
9.390
17
R17
Human Feedback to Production in Agricultural Subsystem
0.347
18
R18
Human Feedback to Livestock Subsystem
0.304
19
R19
Import Storage to Human Subsystem
15. £12
20
R20
Imports from Outside Household System
15.288
21
R21
Flow from Household Production Storage to Human
Subsystem
2.061
22
R22
Depreciation of Household Production Storage
0.007
23
R23
Depreciation of Imported Goods
0.076
24
R24
Livestock Crowding Factor
5.790
25
R25
Human Feedback to Harvest and Processing of Agricul¬
tural Subsystem Production
0.039
26

Table 4-2--Continued
Flow/Storage
Name
Initial Value
(xlO6 kcal)
See Note3
Storaqe
Name of Storace
N
Natural Energy
24.211 x 103
27
A
Plant Biomass
47.147
28
L
Li ves tock
47.855
29
H
Human
242.320
30
I
Inventory of Imported Goods
3.822
31
F
Household Production Storage
1.034
32
aNotes for this table can be found in Appendix III.

Table 4-3. Names and initial values for flows and storages in Figure 4-3 (herding zone)
Flow/Storage
Name
Initial Value
(xlO® kcal)
See Note
Flow
Name of Flow
RO
Solar Radiation
140.000 x 103
1
R1
Sunlight Mot Absorbed
93.333 x 103
2
R2
Absorbed Sunlight
46.667 x 103
3
R3
Gross Primary Productivity (GPP)
89.250
4
R4
Feedback to Agricultural Subsystem3
0.892
5
R5
Respiration/Degraded Energy from Agricultural Subsystem
35.700
6
R6
Net Primary Production to Livestock Subsystem
52.658
7
R8
Production of High-Quality Energy--Livestock
118.400
8
R9
Feedback to Livestock Subsystem
1.565
9
RIO
Degraded Energy from Livestock Subsystem
53.036
10
Rll
Livestock Production of Storage for Household
4.557
11
R12
Feedback of Livestock to Agricultural Subsystem
6.214
12
R13
Production of High-Quality Energy--Human
86.488
13

Table 4-3--Continued
FI o',-//Storage
Name
Initial Value
(xlO6 kcal)
See Note^
Flow
Name of Flow
R14
Labor Expended in Household Maintenance
0.666
14
R15
Metabolism/Degraded Energy from Human Subsystem
13.986
15
R16
Exports from Human Subsystem
70.968
16
R18
Human Feedback to Livestock Subsystem
1.138
17
R19
Import Storage to Human Subsystem (non-food products)
40.672
18
R20
Imports from Outside Household System
81.699
19
R21
Flow from Household Storage to Human Subsystem
44.907
20
R22
Depreciation of Household Storage
0.316
21
R23
Depreciation of Imported Goods
0.355
22
R24
Livestock Crowding Factor
53.036
23
R30
Import Storage to Household Storage
40.672
24

Table 4-3—Continued
Flow/Storage
Name
Initial Value
(xlO® kcal)
See Noteb
Storage
N
Name of Storaqe
Natural Energy
70.000 x 103
25
A
Plant Biomass
178.500
26
L
Livestock
438.310
27
H
Human
274.320
28
I
Inventory of Imported Goods
17.769
29
F
Household Storage
2.278
30
aIt must be remembered that the "agricultural" subsystem in the herding zone refers exclusively to pasturage.
There is no true plant cultivation.
bNotes for this table can be found in Appendix IV.

182
natural systems there are, of course, many unforeseen factors which can
intervene to alter a course of events, and which cannot be easily
included in a model. Using computer simulation, it is possible to say
that within the limitations of the defined set of parameters, a certain
state would result from a certain change.
Analysis
In the present study, simulations were first carried out strictly
on the basis of the collected data, but excluding all activity and
income related to migration. Figures 4-6 through 4-9 show the results
of these simulations. The storage of the human, livestock, and agricul¬
tural subsystems are shown plotted over time for households in the three
zones of the district. As the plots show, the flow of energy through the
storages is stable in each of the three zones. This in part reflects the
fact that the subsystems are interrelated and that each part is responsive
to small changes in the others. Thus, the system, as managed by the
human component, tends to compensate for minor changes and stresses
which occur. The stability of the plots verifies the models and their
calibration insofar as it is both a plausible result for a system of this
type, and that it tends to confirm the observed conditions of altiplano
households, which are, in general, neither in rapid growth nor in
decline.
The stability of the plots does not represent a static situation.
The model was calibrated with yearly data--in other words, it is based
on production per year, imports and exports per year and so forth. Thus,
the wild fluctuations in productivity which the system experiences between

Figure 4-6. Volume of human subsystem storage over time in the three
natural life zones of the district of Sarata
Figure 4-7. Inventory of imported goods over time in the three natural
life zones of the district of Sarata

134
Herding
Intermediate
Lakeside
.
0 1
2 3 4 S
8 í t 3
jfin
10
ilO6 tul
500
Herding
?50
0
Intermedíale
Lakeside
o 1
6 í 8 liar s 10

Figure 4-
Figure 4-
Volume of agricultural subsystem storage over time in the
three natural life zones of the district of Sarata
Volume of livestock subsystem storage over time in the three
natural life zones of the district of Sarata

186
i !06
*CJI
Herding
250 "
i» r
Intermediate
Lakeside
0 12 i i s
*l05Wal
20t
l 9 10
|«»rs
Herding
I
I nt e r mediate
Lakeside
o
0 I : 1 4 *» 6 7 8 9 10
years

187
the rainy season and the dry season are not visible. Furthermore,
the fact that the flow of energy is stabilized in part by the inter¬
relationships and feedbacks among the subsystems means that it is a
dynamic stability and not a static one. Figure 4-10 shows the simulation
results when plotted on a greatly reduced scale. The fluctuation in the
various components of the model are obvious as is the way in which a
change in one component alters the others. If the human system, for
example, consumes a larger percentage of agricultural production, there
is less for the livestock, which subsequently decline. This, in turn,
may adversely affect the human subsystem.
This type of dynamic stability or equilibrium results from the
fact that many things are changing within the system at any one time
and that the management efforts of the human components of the system
serve to maintain the flow of energy at more or less constant levels.
Systems in dynamic equilibrium have been discussed by Bateson (1963),
Slobodkin (1968, 1974), and Vayda (1974). This does not imply that humans
exist in a truly homeostatic relationship with their environments or
that there is some mechanism at work which keeps them in harmony with
their environment at all times. A crisis in the environment or a change
in strategies of resource use on the part of the human population could
rapidly change the energy flow situation. Relatively small changes
could give rise to groth, to decline or to large fluctuations in energy
availability. There are functioning systems and systems with human
members, which are characterized by all of these states (Friedmann 1979).
At the present time, however, the social and economic strategies relied

no6 nc«i
"15.54
"22816
Figure 4-10. Normal fluctuations in storages of lakeside zone--results of simulation shown at reduced scale

189
on in the district of Sarata serve to maintain a fairly steady flow of
energy through its households.
As stated previously, the data with which the models are cali¬
brated do not include seasonal migratory activity or income. Neither
do they include the occasional (but relatively frequent) severe environ¬
mental perturburances which can be caused by droughts, long-lasting
frosts, or hail. Every year's production is affected to some degree by
such occurrences and this moderate, predictable amount of loss was taken
into account in preparing the models. The greater, less predictable
crop losses which can occur, were not, however, included.
Figure 4-11 shows what would happen to the flow of energy through
the food storage in the lakeside zone if there were a 10 percent reduc¬
tion in agricultural productivity in a given year. It would dip to
levels well below what is required to meet the metabolic needs of the
household. Ten percent is an arbitrarily chosen and extremely low
figure for crop loss. In years when there is a severe drought or crop-
destroying weather phenomenon, or some combination of these factors, up
to 50 percent of the total production may be destroyed. When such
disasters occur several years in a row, even less is produced in the
following years, as seed stocks shrink, household members become
weakened and discouraged, and the most able workers leave for the cities
or the valleys. In order to survive productive crises, it is clear
that a household would need additional energy resources.
The factor of seasonal migration can be included in the models.
The effects of migration on a household which possesses the set of

Figure 4-11. Simulation of the effect of a 10 percent decline in agri¬
cultural production on storage of household goods
Figure 4-12. Simulation of the effect of migratory income on human sub¬
system storage in the lakeside zone

191
tiOÉ’ kcal
150..
0
0
H 1 1 1 ♦
2 3 4 S 6

192
conditions defined in the model can be tested. The results of the con¬
sideration of migratory activity are shown in Figure 4-12 and the change
made in the model is described in Table 4-4. With only a small supple¬
ment from migratory income the storage in the human subsystem grows
and then declines. There are two reasons for this occurrence. First,
the subsystems of the model are interrelated. When the human subsystem
grows, it pulls more heavily on the resources of the other subsystems.
These begin to decline leaving less for the human population which
declines itself in response. The fluctuations reflect the feedbacks and
the interdependencies of the modeled system.
It must be kept in mind, however, that the model deals with
flows of energy and as such it does not qualitatively distinguish the
population which has been defined as the human subsystem from a popu¬
lation of microbes or any other living organism. (A population of
microbes would, however, be accurately represented by a very different
model.) Growth in the human subsystem is equated with biological growth
in the model and when the human storage grows it is assumed to be pulling
harder on food resources.
A human population which has been living close to the edge of
subsistence is very likely to begin eating more when some surplus
becomes available. It is also likely to invest some part of its new¬
found income in reproduction. It will not continue to do so indefi¬
nitely, however, as the modeled system does. Each household makes
decisions about the allocation of its resources, and these decisions
cannot adequately be represented by a model of this type. They involve

Table 4-4. Changes introduced in simulations of lakeside zone model
Simulation Results
Description Represented in Flow Old Value
of Change Figures Affected (kcal)
Effect of 10 percent
Reduction in Agri¬
cultural Production Figure 4-13
R3/Note 4 .
to Table 4-1 12.865 x 10
Effect of Seasonal
Migration to
Tambopata Valley
R20/Note 21
to Table 4-1 9.5322 x 10°
New Value
(kcal)
11.579 x 106
19.064 x 106
Figure 4-14

194
the interplay of individual predispositions and cultural factors, and
they represent economically and socially rational choices within the
context of a given culture.
The households modeled in the present study all consisted of two
adults in their late 20s, with the average number of children for their
natural life zone. This ranged from three children in the lakeside zone,
to four in the herding zone. While the average number of children who
would be living in a household of the lakeside zone at any one point in
time is three, completed fertility is 5.3, and five children is con¬
sidered the most desirable number. For this reason, most of the house¬
holds would choose to invest part of their migratory income in further
growth and reproduction. In fact, as will be discussed at length in
Chapter Six, the timing of seasonal migratory activity with relation to
the domestic cycle of the household makes it clear that subsidizing
household growth is one of its major goals. Migration virtually without
exception occurs at the time when the household is establishing itself
as an independent unit and when its reproductive rate is highest.
The remainder of migratory income is spent in two ways. Much
of it is invested in improvements in the quality of life of the house¬
hold members. The household complex may be improved and expanded.
Items such as clothing, shoes, books, radios, or bicycles may be pur¬
chased. Medical care is likely to be sought more frequently and funds
will be put aside to insure the education of the children. There may
also be investment in high-quality feedbacks to agriculture and live¬
stock, such as fertilizer, pesticides for crops, or veterinary supplies.

195
The second way in which part of the migratory income will always
be used is in the stockpiling of food supplies to see the family through
crisis periods. Often new storehouses will be built for this purpose.
All material investments represent additional security for the family
to a degree, since a radio or bicycle, like an animal, can always be
sold for cash, which can then be spent for food. But food supplies are
also preserved and stored directly whenever possible.
To return to the results shown in Figure 4-12, one would not
expect all of the increased energy available to the household to be
invested in biological growth, depleting the other storages and forcing a
subsequent decline in the subsystem. Part of it is also invested in
improvements in the quality of the household environment and part is
storehoused to see the family through productive crises. Furthermore,
the human subsystem possesses an additional "informational" dimension
which is not found in the other subsystems and which is not included
in the model.
Flumans do not depend solely on flows of energy or flows of
materials, but also on flows of information. The capacity for culture
evolved by human beings is the capacity to store, use, and respond to
information. Language and other shared systems of meaning which form
our cultures and influence our behaviors, the acts of reasoning and of
decision-making, all are manifestations of this capacity. The human
component of real-world systems always possesses a greater flexibility
of behavior than the other subsystems--far greater than is indicated by
the energy flow mofe!. Humans have beliefs and make decisions about

196
their reproduction, for example. They do not simply grow in size or
in numbers when resources are available. They develop strategies for
the management of the other subsystems and for the reinvestment of high-
quality energy in these subsystems in order to yield greater rewards.
In working with models which embody only the flow of energy
through a system and not the flow of information, it is important not to
obscure this distinction. The point of the present analysis, for example,
is that human beings recognize the precariousness of their subsistence
base and the limitations that their resources place on the ability of
their households to grow and reproduce. Recognizing this, they develop
strategies of seasonal migration to alleviate the problem. Given the
constraints of geography and the environment, the possibilities of
altering their subsistence are not unlimited, but they are far greater
than those available to any other organism. Modeling the flow of energy
through a system shows what is available to the human population. This
is part of what must be addressed in the study of human adaptation. The
part which remains has to do with how humans use what they have available
in order to assure their survival and reproduction. This is the question
that will be addressed in Chapters Five and Six.
Reproduction, Crisis Survival,
and the Role of Seasonal Migration
Analysis of the flow of energy through households in the three
natural life zones of the district of Sarata was carried out with two
related goals in mind. First, it was hoped that through the use of
energy-circuit models, a more definitive argument could be made for energy

197
deficiency in the altiplano environment and for energy as a limiting
factor for the altiplano population. If seasonal migration is to be
considered an adaptive response to energy scarcity, the condition it
alleviates must be shown to be truly relevant to the population's sur¬
vival and reproduction.
A limiting factor in the technical sense is a condition which
approaches or exceeds a population's limits of tolerance. A number of
different factors and combi nations of factors can impinge on the func¬
tioning of a system, either by being scarce or by being too abundant
(Odum 1975:108). It is the goal of the present analysis to determine
whether energy plays such a role in the district of Sarata.
It was anticipated that energy flow analysis could also provide
an answer to a second question. In order to classify seasonal migration
as an adaptive response it is necessary to know if, and in what way, it
could affect a situation of energy deficiency. Both of these questions
can be addressed on the basis of the data which have been presented.
Simulation of the energy circuit models without consideration
of income or activity related to seasonal migration showed a stable flow
to be maintained through the major storages over time. This was true
for households in all three of the natural life zones of Sarata. While
on the surface this may seem to suggest that energy flow is adequate,
there are two reasons why this is not the case.
First, the households were diagrammed during a phase of their
domestic cycle in which growth would be a normal state. The diagrams
represent households whose adult members are in the mid- to late 20s

198
and whose children are young. During this period most households are
attempting to establish and to expand their resource base at the same
time that they are involved in having children and raising a family.
The data collected in each of the zones suggest that the resource base
of most households is insufficient to see them through this period of
growth and reproduction without supplements from seasonal or temporary
migration. The results of the simulation carried out without migratory
activity show no room for growth to occur.
Secondly, the damage which can be caused to productivity by
severe drought, hailstorms, or frost was not included in the original
models, despite the fact that such damage is frequent on the altiplano.
Figure 4-11 shows the effect that a 10 percent reduction in production
would have on a family's food supply. The survival of crisis situations
has been suggested by Vayda and McCay (1975) to be of far greater
importance in adaptation than long-term maintenance or the general well¬
being of an organism. The inhabitants of the altiplano may be relatively
well fed in normal years, but if they cannot survive a period of
drought, their previous well-being lasses all evolutionary and adaptive
significance. Simulation of the models shows that the resource base of
households, without income from seasonal migration, is often not suf¬
ficient to see them through environmental crises.
For these two reasons it can be argued that energy is a limiting
factor for altiplano households. Energy levels during frequent crisis
situations, and during crucial reproductive periods, approach or exceed
the lower limits of the population's tolerance. Smith (1979) has argued

199
that an individual is not energy-limited unless its reproductive fitness
is affected by energy scarcity, and that a population is not energy-
limited unless increased energy resources would lead to an increase in
its rate of growth. The simulated models reveal that both of these
conditions are met in the altiplano environment.
An individual's reproductive ability is challenged by periodic
productive crises which, without subsidies from seasonal migration, could
prevent them from surviving to reproductive age. Within the population as
a whole, households would have insufficient resources for their repro¬
ductive periods without income from migration. Migratory activity
occurs precisely at the time when rates of reproduction and growth are
at their highest. Energy scarcity stresses individuals in the altiplano
population. Were there no cultural means of mitigating its effects, it
is likely that many individuals would not survive periodic crises, or
would be forced to greatly reduce their reproductive rate. Migratory
activity, as a cultural adaptation, acts as a buffer against the harsher
processes of natural selection.
This latter fact is demonstrated by the simulation results
presented in Figure 4-12. Added energy resources from migratory activity,
represented by the growth in the curve, make it possible for the house¬
hold to grow and reproduce, to set up storages of goods to insure sur¬
vival in productive crises and to allow for general improvements in the
quality of life for household members. Because humans have discretionary
power unlike other organic systems, they have the ability to allocate
their resources in ways that would avoid subsequent declines.

200
The establishment of the fact that energy is limiting for the
altiplano population and that seasonal migration alleviates the problems
caused by energy scarcity, opens the door for the analysis of seasonal
migration as an adaptive response. It defines energy scarcity as a
biological problem which threatens survival and reproduction and shows
how seasonal migration can be effective in reducing the negative effects
of these problems. It does not deal with the way in which seasonal
migration as an adaption operates within Aymara culture--rather, it
establishes a functional relationship between two phenomena. The
establishment of the fact that energy scarcity is a problem and that
seasonal migration is capable of solving it, is a necessary first step,
however, in fuller explanation of the way this adaptive process operates
among the Aymara of the district of Sarata.

CHAPTER FIVE
THE CULTURAL FRAMEWORK FOR MORATORY ACTIVITY:
AYMARA KINSHIP AND COMMUNITY
The Role of Kinship
Seasonal migration solves basic subsistence problems for the
Aymara of Sarata. It helps insure that day-to-day needs are adequately
met and it provides households with a surplus which allows them to
survive crises such as those which may be caused by drought, frost, and
hail. It is an activity which is adaptive in the context of the environ¬
ment of the northern altiplano.
An adaptive activity must, however, solve environmental problems
in a manner that maintains the structural coherence of the society.
Adaptive strategies are designed around the options which people per¬
ceive as being open to them and they make use of existing social and
economic relationships. Migration to the Tainbopata Valley is a strategy
which is integrated not only into the productive schedule of the alti¬
plano, but also into its networks of production and exchange.
For the Aymara of Sarata, institutions of kinship play a major
role in the organization of production both on the altiplano and in the
ceja de selva. The migration itself is primarily organized and carried
out along kinship lines. For kinship to play such a large role in
activities related to subsistence is not uncommon in non-industrialized
societies. Far from being a class of phenomena which is peripheral to
201

202
survival and economic well-being, as traditional materialist and
Marxist analyses have assumed, kinship is a common mechanism for
organizing production (Meillassoux 1972; Godelier 1978; Siskind 1978).
Ties of kinship frequently serve to recruit and allocate labor for pro¬
ductive tasks, to manage the tasks themselves and to regulate the distri¬
bution and exchange of products. Furthermore, they form the context for
the reproduction of a group's labor force and the specialization and
control of its productive members.
Without the continual exchange of goods, labor, and information
which kinship organizes in the district of Sarata, the simultaneous
cultivation of highland and valley environments would not be possible.
Neither would migrants be able to survive in the lowlands without aid
From migrating relatives. People who are related by kinship travel to
the valley together, where they often live and work as a group.
Despite widespread recognition of the role that kinship struc¬
tures play in Andean society, their description has proven to be a
difficult task for outside investigators. The Aymara kinship system is
complex and multi-faceted. Many aspects of the system cannot be
understood easily in their present-day context alone. Relationships
which exist today are often the result of changes which hundreds of
years of Spanish rule have worked on the pre-Hispanic kinship system.
Depopulation, forced labor and new settlement patterns which came with
the Spanish Conquest irreparably damaged many aspects of pre-Hispanic
social organization (Moerner 1979).
Previous studies which have dealt with kinship in the Andes have
frequently found superficial similarities to a Spanish pattern and

203
concluded that the current Andean system is in no way greatly different
from those of Western European nations. While current kinship structures
are far different from those of pre-Hispanic times they are not Western
imports. Kinship is much like language in the sense that its terms can
be borrowed, but whole systems—the structured interrelationships of
parts--cannot. Analyses of Aymara social and economic relationships
which assume that they are organized in the same way as those of the
dominant Western culture are incapable of comprehending the logic of long-
and short-term exchanges, of cooperation and non-cooperation,.and of the
varied alliances and responsibilities entered into in Aymara society.
For this reason, before attempting to explain how seasonal migration is
organized by kinship, and how it was organized by kinship in the past, a
description of the basic structure of Aymara kin relationships will be
presented.
Deseent and the Structure of Consanguineal Kinship
The difficulty which the complex heritage of Andean kinship has
posed for investigators is illustrated by attempts to identify and
describe patterns of descent. Many of the first anthropologists to work
in Andean communities reported strong tendencies toward pa tri1ineality
(Tschopik 19G3; La Barre 1948; Mishkin 1963; Stein 1961; Vasquez and
Holmberg 1966). Stephen Webster (1977:42) lias noted that most of these
accounts presented little or no evidence to support such an assertion.
Webster feels that superficial similarities to Hispanic kinship systems,
such as the use of patronyms, may have led investigators to believe they

204
were dealing with what was essentially a Western peasant tradition when
this was not the case.
Perhaps for this reason, even when patrilineality could not be
documented in extant kinship systems, some investigators chose to
interpret its absence as the result of the breakdown of a postulated
former structure of patrilineal corporate groups. Martínez, for example,
expressed the view that parcelization of land, acculturation and migration
were the cause of the destruction of the patrilineal extended family on
the altiplano (1969:48). Hickman and Stuart have argued that the
importance of the nuclear family in Aymara society has increased as a
result of the weakening of dominance over resources by the "patri-unit"
(1977:55-56).
The Aymara kinship system is not, nor does it seem to have
ever been, patrilineal. Patrilateral biases which exist in the current
kinship system are not, as Webster has pointed out, a matter of kinship,
but reflect the male role in certain political and economic domains
where their participation has been demanded by the Spanish. One example
of how a superficially imposed Spanish pattern has been taken to reflect
patrilineality involves inheritance of names. Pressures from priests
and Spanish administrators have led to the use of Spanish naming prac¬
tices in formal contexts throughout most of the Andes, despite the fact
that in unofficial settings other naming patterns may be used. The use
of patronyms in Vicos was taken by Vásquez and Holmberg (1966) as evi¬
dence for patrilineal castas (unilineal descent groups) among the popula¬
tion, despite the fact that the casta had no functional significance.

205
Parallel inheritance of names and other traits was the dominant
pre-Hispanic pattern in the Andes and still influences kin reckoning
and behavior. Males received names from, and were tied most closely to
kin traced through their fathers, while females received names from,
and were most closely associated with relations traced through their
mothers. Because many investigators in the Andes have spoken almost
exclusively with male informants, and because of this pattern, they
received the impression that kinship was always reckoned through the
father or was at least heavily weighted toward the father's side. The
phenomenon also appears to have contributed to reports of patrilineal
descent.
In the past few years, more detailed investigations of Andean
kinship have led to increasing recognition of its current bilaterality
(Webster 1973; Isbell 1978; Mayer 1974; Lambert 1977). A bilateral
system is one in which an individual is related to all descendants of
recognized ancestors within a certain number of generations, regardless
of whether the geneolopical connection is traced through males or
females (Radcliffe-Brown 1950). Bilateral kinship occurs in a wide
range of societies throughout the world, from hunters and gatherers, to
horticultura!ists, to industrialized Western societies. In its current
form, Aymara kinship is bilateral. Kin ties are traced through males
and females from the generation of one's great-grandparents (t'unu).
There are, however, many anomalous qualities in Aymara bilateral kin¬
ship which can only be explained by looking at the system in historical
perspective.

206
The pre-Hispanic Aymara kinship system, at least as it existed
immediately prior to the Conquest, was not bilateral but parallel, or
dual, in its nature. Currently, the importance of genealogical relation¬
ships varies depending on the sex of ego and the referrent. While all
relationships within the appropriate number of generations are recog¬
nized, as in any bilateral system, the parallel-sex relationship of a
female through her mother and a male through his father, are most
important. These present-day parallel behavioral and affective bonds,
appear to have been elements in the formal structuring of kin relation¬
ships in the past.
In attempting to establish the structure of the pre-Hispanic
pattern of Aymara kinship, the most helpful source is the Arte y gramá¬
tica muy copiosa de la lengua Aymara published by Father Ludovico
Bertonio in 1603. The date of publication was 70 years after the
first Spaniards arrived in Peru. Depopulation, flight from the mit'a
(tax in labor), and the mit'a itself, as well as forced settlement in
reducciones, had already done much to break down traditional kinship
structures. Terminological systems, however, are the most conservative
aspects of kinship (Murdock 1949) and it is likely that the terms
Bertonio collected reflected earlier patterns.
Bertonio introduces his chapter on kinship terminology in a way
that at first seems quite peculiar. "For greater clarity," he says,
"I have first put the manner in which a man addresses his relatives
who are male; then how he addresses the women; in the third place how
women address themselves one to another; and finally how a woman addresses

207
her male relatives"^ (1603:201). If (lertom'o had been trying to present
the Aymara kinship system in terms of a Western paradigm, this manner
of presentation would seem arbitrary and convoluted. His decision to
present the terras in this particular order, "in the interest of greater
clarity," must have represented an attempt to approximate what Bertonio
perceived to be the native kinship system. The terms themselves, as he
presented them, confirm this assumption.
The system described by Bertonio emphasized relatives reckoned
in a parallel manner. Mother's sister and father's brother were called
father and mother, while mother's brother and father's sister had cross¬
sex terms. The parents of one's mother and one's father were recognized
terminologically as were the parents of one's mother's mother and one's
father's father. The parents of one's mother's father or one's father's
mother were not. This pattern of parallel recognition of ancestors
extended back to the tunu apachi and tunu achachi or "root grandmother"
and "root grandfather" in the fifth ascending generation. Bertonio's
terminological structure from a male point of view is presented in
Figure 5-1, and from the female perspective in Figure 5-2. The kinship
terms themselves, with their translations, are presented in Table 5-1.
Bertonio said that not only were these parallel ancestors
recognized, but also their descendents--again, female descendants through
females on the mother's side and male descendants through males on the
^"Y para mayor claridad porne primero el modo con que el varón
llama a los varones sus parientes, después como llama a las mugeres; en
tercero lugar como se llama las mugeres unas a otras; y últimamente como
llama la muger a los varones parientes" (Bertonio 1603:201).

Table 5-1. Aymara kinship terms
Number
Term (as Written
by Bertonio)
Current Term in
Yapita Alphabet
Meaning3 (in
Bertonio1s Time)
Current
Meaning
1
tayca
t'ayka
M, MZ (or MMD), MMMdd,
MMMMddd, MMMMMdddd
M, occasionally MZ or FZ
2
auqui
awki
F, FB (or FFs) , FFFss ,
FFFFsss, FFFFFssss
F, occasionally FB or MB
3
ypa
i pa/ipal a
FZ, FFZ
HZ, occasionally FZ
4
lari
lari
MB
WB, occasionally MB
5
sullea
sul 1 ka
"younger brother"
"younger brother"
6
chinqui
?
"younger sister"
ch'uri kullaka = "younger sis-
ter" in Sarata today
7
hila
ji la/jilata
"older brother," pos¬
sibly older FBs, MZs
"older brother," "brother"
8
collaca
kullaka
"older sister," pos¬
sibly older MZd, FBd
"older sister," "sister"
9
yoca
yuqa
"son," "sister's son"
(female speaking),
"brother's son" (male
speaking)
"son," occasionally "brother's
son" or "sister's son"

Table 5-1--Continued
Term (as Written Current Term (in
Number by Bertonio) Yapita Alphabet)
Meaning3 (in
Bertonio's Time)
Current
Meaning
10 pucha
p"ucha
11 yocana yocpa yuqana yuqpa
12 yocana yocpana yuqana yuqpana
yocpa yuqpa
13 puchana puchapa p"uchana p"uchapa
14 puchana allchipa p"uchana allchipa
"daughter," "sister's
daughter" (female speak¬
ing), "brother's daugh¬
ter" (male speaking)
ss
sss
dd
ddd
"daughter," occasionally
brother's son" or "sister's
son"
allchi = "grandchild" in
Sarata today, although .yuqana
yuqpa would be understood as
specifying this particular
parallel relationship
alIchin wawapa = any "great
grandchild" in Sarata today,
although yuqana yuqpana would
be understood as specifying
this particular parallel
relationshi p
a 11chi = "grandchild" in Sarata
today, although p"uchana
p"uchapa would be understood
as specifying this particular
parallel relationship
allchin wawapa = any "great
grandchild" inSarata today,
although p"uchana allchipa
would be recognized as specify¬
ing this particular relation¬
shi p
ro
o
to

Table 5-1—Continued
Number
Term (as Written
by Bertonio)
Current Term in
Yapita Alphabet
Meaning3
Bertonio's
i n
Time)
Current
Meaning
15
ypasiri
ipasiri
"brother's child" (female
speaki ng)
No currently used equivalent;
all siblings' children are
suprinu/suprina ("nephew/
niece") or p"ucha/yuqa in
Sarata today
16
haquiri
jaqiri (?)
"sister's child"
speaking)
(male
No currently used equivalent;
all siblings' children are
suprinu/suprina ("nephew/
niece") or p"ucha/yuqa in
Sarata today
17
chacha achachi
chacha achachi
FF, FFB
Today in Sarata FF, FFB, MF,
and MFB are jach'a tata
18
marmi achachi
warmi achachi
MF, MFB
Today in Sarata FF, FFB, MF,
and MFB are jach'a tata
19
auquihana acha-
chipa
awkixana achachipa
FFF
Today in Sarata all "great¬
grandfathers" are jach'a awki
or awit'unu, but awkixana
achachipa would be understood
as specifying this particular
parallel relationship
20
achachiana acha¬
chi pa
achachiyana acha-
chipa
FFFF
This relationships is not com¬
monly recognized in Sarata
today--only mythically, as
achachila

Table 5-1--Continued
Number
Term (as Written
by Bertonio)
Current Term in
Yapita Alphabet
Meaning (in
Bertonio's Time)
Current
Meaning
21
tunu achachi
t'unu achachi
FFFFF
Not recognized in Sarata today;
only mythically as achachila
22
chacha apachi
chacha apachi
FM
In Sarata today, both FM and MM
are awichita
23
marmi apachi
warmi apachi
MM
In Sarata today, both FM and MM
are awichita
24
taycahana apa¬
chi pa
t'aykaxana apachipa
MMM
Today, in Sarata, all "great
qrandmothers" are jach'a t'a.yka
or awichat'unu, but this phrase
would be understood to signify
this particular parallel
relationship
25
apachihana apa¬
chi pa
apachixana apa¬
chipa
MMMM
Not recognized today in Sarata;
only mythically as achachila
26
tunu apachi
t'unu apachi
MMMMM
Not recognized today in Sarata;
only mythically as achachila
aM = mother; F = father; B = brother; Z = sister; d = daughter; s = son; H = husband; W = wife.

t4 A OttÍi (i) At
£%ri)
ro
ro
Figure 5-1. Aymara kinship terms from point of view of male ego, as reported in Bertonio (1379)

Figure 5-2. Aymara kinship terms from point of view of female ego, as reported in Bertonio (1979)

214
2
father's. One's MMHMMdddd was called mother, and it was implied that
her children were unmarrigeable to ego. Likewise, one's FFFFFssss
was called father, and his children were also unmarrigeable to ego.
In descending generations, a person did not recognize all of
his or her grandchildren but only his or her daughters' daughters and
sons' sons, and so forth in succeeding generations. The children of a
sibling were called son and daughter if the sibling was of the same sex
and by other terms in the case of a cross-sex sibling.
This system was not bilateral, according to the definition pro¬
posed by Radcliffe-Brown (1950), since all descendants of an apical
ancestor were not recognized "regardless of whether the genealogical
connection is traced through males or females." While relatives were
recognized on both the mother's and father's sides, cross-sex relatives
were excluded in each.
The description of a similar pattern in 16th-century accounts
of Inca kinship, and certain aspects of the terminological structure of
the systems, have led Lounsbury (1964) to suggest that varieties of
patrilineal Omaha and matrilineal Crow kinship structures may have been
operative at the same time, but in separate domains. While the exact
nature of the Aymara terminological structure has yet to be clarified,
both Bertonio's lexicon and current cultural patterns suggest that both
descent as a principle, and inherited goods, knowledge and character¬
istics passed from woman to woman and from man to man. It was not
considered possible or proper to cross sex lines in such transmission.
= mother; F = father; B = brother; Z = sister; d = daughter;
s = son; H = husband; W = wife.

215
While a woman recognized her father's male line of descent and a man
his mother's female line, neither could inherit from these groups.
Naming practices recorded in 17th-century church documents in
Sarata reveal that parallel transmission of names was an important, but
not the exclusive naming pattern. Between 1627 and 1700, 67 percent of
males baptized in Sarata received their father's last name. One percent
received the last name of their mother, and 31 percent from neither
parent. Forty percent of females received their mother’s last name,
5 percent their father's, and 55 percent from neither parent. In those
instances where a child did not receive the name of either parent, it
is impossible to trace its origin from the limited information in the
documents in question. In some cases, however, the name belonged to the
child's godparent.
The same naming pattern was found by Freda Wolf (1972) in the
church documents of Juli on the south side of Lake Titicaca. It has
also been documented by Xavier Albo (1976) for Aymara communities, by
Núñez del Prado (1969) for the Quechua of Q'ero in Cuzco, and by Isbell
(1978) for the Quechua of Chuschi in Ayacucho.
When one looks at the way in which names were transmitted
after 1700, the Spanish pattern of receiving the first surname from
one's father is far more evident. Between 1700 and 1882, .1ST percent of
male children took their father's name (a single surname was recorded
for each child). Three percent of the children took their surname from
their mother and 6 percent from neither parent. Eighty-six percent of
females took their father's name, 8 percent their mother's, and 6 per¬
cent neither. The naming patterns are presented in Table 5-2.

Table 5-2. Inheritance of names, district of Sarata, 1627 to 1882
Sex of Child
Years
Inheritance Pattern
Surname from
Father
Surname from
Mother
Surname from
Neither Parent
1627-1700
81%
U
31 %
Male
1701-1882
91 %
3%
6%
1627-1700
5%
55"
6%
Female
1701-1882
86
8%

217
Church documents in Sarata also reveal that certain names were
associated with males while others were associated with females. Choque,
Molle, and Sisa were names exclusively given to females until the mid-
18th century, while names such as Quispe, Condori, and Mamani were
exclusively given to males. Beginning in the 18th century, the distri¬
bution of names between the sexes became more equal. There was also a
marked reduction in names derived from objects or qualities such as
Choque (ch_'u_ai--"potato"), Cori (quri —"gold"), Llainpu ("llama fat used
in ritual"), Cauna (k’awna--'‘egg") and Nina ("fire"). This corresponded
to an increased reliance on a smaller set of names which were more
standardized and which were usually not lexical items.
The manner in which names were given and how this was related
to the kinship system as described by Bertonio remains in large part a
mystery. Zuidema (1977) has suggested that names may have been given
by ritual sponsors based on attributes, roles or some other character¬
istic. He also suggests that they may have been given on one or more
occasions in a person's lifetime. This theory is supported by the fact
that at the present time in Sarata, all godparents--whether they sponsor
a baptism, communion, first haircutting, or marriage—are called sutitata
or sutimama ("name father" or "name mother").
The pre-Conquest kinship system influences the simplified
bilateral structure which exists in Aymara kinship today. The present-
day system theoretically recognizes all descendants of the great grand-
parental generation, which in current terminology is called t'unu
("root"). In practice people do not always remember the names of all

218
their great grandparents. When they do not remember all of them, it
is more common for a woman to remember the names of relatives on her
mother's side and for a man on the side of his father. It is easier
for both to remember FFF and MMM than non-para 11 el kin.
As noted in Table 5-1, in the grandparental generation of the
present-day system all females are awichita and all males are jach'a
tata. It is considered respectful to address all people of one's grand-
parental generation using these terms. In the parental generation
there is ambiguity with regard to what terms should be applied. In
general, the male siblings of either parent are addressed as tío
("uncle")--or as the term is borrowed into Aymara--tiwula. Female
siblings of parents are called tía ("aunt") or tiyala. In some con¬
texts parents' siblings may also be called mother or father, although
when this occurs the terms used are generally derived from Spanish
(mamasita, papá) rather than the traditional Aymara forms t'ayka
("mother") and awki ("father"). (See Figure 5-3.)
There is no cross-parallel distinction in the terminology for
parents' siblings in present usage. While the cross-sex terms lari
("mother's brother") and i pa 1 a ("father's sister") are recognized, they
are rarely, if ever, used. "Aunts" and "uncles" who are siblings of
one's parents and those descended from collateral "grandparents" are
occasionally distinguished. In these cases, siblings of parents are
called tío propio ("my own uncle"), or tía neta ("my pure aunt") to
distinguish them from less closely related uncles and aunts.
This type of distinction in col laterality is also made in
ego's generation. Brothers and sisters (,jilata and kullaka) are

(® UJ

220
differentiated from cousins for which the Spanish terms primo and prima
are used. In order to differentiate first cousins from those of the
second or third degree, the terms prima kullaka ("cousin-sister") orjarjjM
jilata ("cousin brother") are often employed.
There is a distinction made between siblings who are older than
ego and those who are younger, and also between those siblings of one's
parent's who are older than the parent and those who are younger. Younger
brothers are sullka, and jilata (which is often used as a general term
for brother) means older brother in its specific sense. Younger sisters
are ch'uri, and kullaka (whose sense has been extended to mean any sister)
is also more specifically one's older sister. When the age relationship
is relevant, chanamama refers to the younger sister of a parent and
chantata to a parent's younger brother. Jilaymama and jilaytata are
the older sister and older brother of parents, respectively. The very
youngest brother and sister of one's mother or father are called
chanachanamama and chanachantata.
These distinctions in age mark behavioral differences in the
relationships involved. In the case of siblings, the older have cared
for the younger and therefore they are owed respect and a certain amount
of service. Younger siblings are, on the other hand, to be protected
and cared for. In an analogous way, one's relationship to the older
siblings of one's parents--jilaymama and jilaytata—is reserved and
respectful, while the relations with the chanamama and chantata are
affectionate and familiar.
One's own children are p"ucha and yuga ("daughter" and "son")
although a variety of other terms of affection are common in daily

221
speech. The children of siblings and of cousins are called by the
Spanish terms sobrino and sobrina ("nephew" and "niece"), or occasion¬
ally, when affection is being expressed, p"ucha and .yuga ("daughter"
and "son"). There is no cross-parallel distinction in current usage.
Grandchildren are al 1 chi and great grandchildren are called
allchinwawapa ("grandchildren's children"). Just as present-day kinship
has become truly bilateral in its ascending generations, all descendants,
through both males and females, are recognized in descending generations
as wel1.
As increased tendency to recognize and maintain relationships
with individuals of one's own sex and in a parallel line is not the only
way in which aspects of the older kinship system can be seen in the
system which exists today. Ritual knowledge, when transmitted to
younger generations, tends to be passed in a parallel fashion. While
sons and daughters theoretically inherit lands and goods equally from
both parents, mothers are felt to have a greater responsibility to give
to daughters and fathers to their sons. Hilliam Carter has noted that
when a man and woman divorce after years of marriage, female children
go to live with the mother and male children with the father (1977:191).
In the present-day kinship system of the district of Sarata
four generations form a conceptual, if not fully operative unit. When
asked to name their relatives, present-day residents of the district of
Sarata always begin with the great grandparental or t'unu generation,
they explicitly state that this is the proper place to begin. This is
true even if they cannot name all their relatives of that generation.

222
While in practice the rule is not always obeyed, it is said that
descendants of one's t'unu (that is, all cousins to the third degree)
must not marry.
The Nuclear Family House ho lji
Virtually all studies of Andean communities begin by stating
that the nuclear family is the basic unit of social structure. The
nuclear family household is held to be the unit of production, consump¬
tion, and decision-making in the economic sphere (Custred and Orlove
1974; Buechler and Buechler 1971; Brush 1977). It is described as the
context within which socialization occurs and as the unit which is
represented in political and ceremonial participation (Bolton 1977).
The predominance of the nuclear family is not evidence, however,
of a "simple" or "undeveloped" social organization. Bolton (1977:217)
has called the household the only corporate group of any significance
on the altiplano. Thomas has suggested that dispersed settlement
patterns and heavy labor demands place "rather clear limitations on
the degree to which social, political, and religious institutions can
be developed" (1972:252). Such views ignore the history of complex
societies on the altiplano (the empire of Tihuanaco, for example; or
the varous chiefdoms who not only exercised control over the resources
of the al ti piano, but colonized other regions). They ignore the complex
aspects of Andean social structure just described.
It is true that pre-Hispanic organizational forms have been
simplified in many ways since the Spanish Conquest. This has been a
result not only of the destruction of native political and economic

223
organization, of depopulation, and of forced changes in settlement
patterns, but also of the constant siphoning off of the wealth of the
region by the conquerors. Nevertheless, the nuclear family does not
exist, even today, as a "simple" unit of social structure on the
altiplano.
When a new household is formed, strong ties of affinal kinship
are created between the new unit and its parental households as well
as between the two parental households. Lévi-Strauss has called the
nuclear family household a stopover point in the incessant traveling
back and forth between social groups (1971:357). While social groups in
the Andes may not be lineages, the point is still valid. The role of
the nuclear family as a temporary focal point in a series of affinal
exchanges, and the changing nature of its participation in such exchanges
at different stages in its domestic cycle, will be discussed in a later
section.
The nuclear family solves a structural problem created by
/
bilateral kinship structure. It has been frequently noted that in truly
bilateral societies, corporate or self-perpetuating groups do not exist
(Radcliffe-Brown 1935; Murdock 1949; Graburn 1971). This is because
the group of relatives or kindred is by definition ego-centered. Mo
two individuals, with the exception of unmarried siblings, can share
exactly the same kindred. This presents the society with a structural
problem. As Lambert has said, "in societies of this type, new solidary
groups must be created in each generation from the debris of dissolved
families" (1977:3).

224
Among the Aymara, the solidary group which is formed anew in each
generation is the nuclear family. Murdock (1960:7) notes that this is
a common characteristic of truly bilateral societies. Where a larger
group is called for--to fulfill ceremonial obligations or large labor
demands, for example--the mobilization of "temporary action groups" is
a common strategy in most bilateral groups. The Aymara also rely on
such action groups, and extended family, ritual kin, and affines may be
called upon to participate in them.
The nuclear family household in the district of Sarata is most
often composed of parents, or one parent, with their unmarried children.
One-parent households are usually the result of seasonal migration and,
thus, are a temporary pattern occurring only during certain months of
the year. The average size of households in the district at any one
point in time is slightly over five persons. Household size varies
from one subsistence base to another with the lowest average membership
(5.0 persons) found in the lakeside zone. A slightly higher average
number (5.3) persons) live in households of the intermediate zone, where
a mixed pattern of herding and agriculture are practiced. The largest
families (an average of 6.0 persons) are found in the herding zone.
The completed fertility of women in the district averages 5.3
children. This value is lower than for most rural third-world areas, a
fact which is probably related to the negative effect high altitude has
been found to exert on fertility (Abelson 1976). Reported infant mortal¬
ity (60 deaths/1000 live births) is not extraordinarily high by Peruvian
standards. The highest infant death rate, however, occurs during the

225
first three weeks of birth and is related to altitude stress (Way 1976;
Clegg 1978). It is possible that many such early deaths go unreported.
Attitudes toward children are extremely positive. It is a
common saying that five children is the ideal number, which corresponds
closely to average completed fertility in the district. Male and female
children are equally desired, and most families hope to have children
of both sexes. There is no uniform cultural preference with regard to
the sex of the first child, but people often say that it is good when the
first-born is female because girls are more likely to help around the
home and care for subsequent children.
As discussed in Chapter Three, children perform a significant
amount of household labor. They are perceived as necessary to the
functioning of the household. While it is possible that children are
not "net producers" in economic or energetic terms at early ages, the
light tasks they perform free their parents for more intensive labor.
Caring for young children, gathering dung, carrying water and herding
are tasks that would interfere substantially with an adult's ability to
participate in agricultural labor, construction tasks or marketing
activities, were these tasks not performed by children. Children are
also highly valued for their companionship. Mothers are sad to see
all of their children go off to school leaving them alone during the
day, and children are frequently taken on long trips with a parent
because of the companionship they provide.
Once grown, children have an obligation to help provide for
their parents throughout their lives. As in most of the rest of the

226
Andes, the heaviest burden falls on the youngest child, who is expected
to continue to reside with the parents unless another child voluntarily
does so. All children are expected to make a contribution, however,
in accordance with their particular situations. If they have migrated
they are expected to provide store-bought foodstuffs or money for their
parents and to return for critical periods in the agricultural cycle if
possible. If they live in the community or nearby, labor services and
food gifts are expected.
A parent gives freely while a child is young, but once the child
reaches maturity, reciprocation is expected. If a child remembers his
or her parents and tries to help them after leaving home, the parents
in turn continue providing services, such as child care, and a share of
the harvest if the child is in the city or the ceja de selva. If the
child does not help them, the parents cease to provide for them, such
children are held up as examples of ingratitude by all the community.
Relations between siblings are unequal in their nature, as
previously described. The older brother or sister, who provided care 1
and protection in childhood, may provide advice and aid in later life.
An older sibling may, for example, help younger brothers or sisters to
finish their education. They may provide support in migratory efforts
by giving the younger brothers or sisters a place to stay and helping
them get started in the city or in Tambopata. Younger siblings are
expected to treat older brothers and sisters respectfully and to help
them, by participating in agricultural ayni or contributing labor to a
construction project, for example. Older siblings generally look upon
younger siblings with affection.

227
These are the norms that govern sibling relationships when they
are mobilized. The mobilization of these relationships in later life,
however, is not mandatory. Siblings are free to cooperate and collabor¬
ate, or not, and people will not speak badly of them for not doing so,
as they would if they ignored their parents. It is common to find that
some children from the same household form strong affective bonds which
are carried into later life, while others appear to actively dislike
one another. This is considered the prerogative of individuals.
Recent literature on herding communities in the Andes has sug¬
gested that sibling bonds are of more importance in these areas.
Collective ownership of property and solidary sibling groups have been
described (Lambert 1977; Orlove and Custred 1974; Flores Ochoa 1968).
In these cases elder siblings seem to exert control over younger ones.
Residence may be manipulated to maximize access to good herding land
(Webster 1973; Flores Ochoa 1968). Because the herding zone of the
district of Sarata accounts for a rather small part of the population,
and because much of the land in the herding area was controlled by
haciendas until a few years ago, this pattern of sibling groups was not
observed there.
While most households in the district of Sarata consist of
parents plus their unmarried children, it is not unusual to find married
children living in the parental household. In reality this is not a
distinct structural form, but a stage in the household's developmental
cycle. Wo matter how long the child has remained in the parent's home
after marriage, the situation is almost always seen as temporary unless
the parent with whom they are residing is widowed and living alone.

228
Although residence is neolocal, the most common pattern is for
young couples to live with the husband or wife's family for a year or
two after marriage until they have accumulated the resources they need
to start out on their own. The choice of which parent they will reside
with is made opportunistically, based on features such as the relative
wealth of the parents, if the parent is widowed or living alone, and the
quality of the parent-child relationship. If for some reason the new
family decides to stay on in the parental household, additional quarters
will usually be constructed to assure both parents and children a certain
amount of privacy. Parents who become ill or unable to care for them¬
selves will rarely leave their home to live with children who have moved
away. At least one child is expected to return to live with them and
to maintain the house and lands.
Extended family relationships are in general not of great
behavioral significance in the district of Sarata. This is true of
lineal relatives above the parental level or below the level of children
as well as of collaterals. These people must be respected, especially
grandparents and great grandparents, but relationships with them are
rarely close, as previously mentioned. They may be called on to form
part of "temporary action groups" for fiestas, ceremonial events or work
parties. Their participation, however, is rarely considered mandatory,
as is that of affines or ritual kin.
Marriage and Affines
Marriage among the Aymara of Sarala is essentially an economic
union. It represents, above all other things, the coming together of a

229
male and female to form a new productive unit. Within that unit, each
member maintains separate title to their lands and retains their full
array of blood relationships. The offspring of the new unit will, in
turn, inherit land from both their parents and will be related to both
parental kin groups.
A newly married couple is usually given part of the land they
will eventually inherit upon completion of the wedding ceremonies.
Both the parents of the woman and the parents of the man give animals,
seed, tools, and other household items at this time. How much the new
couple are given depends on the economic situation of their parents--
whether or not they will have enough to sustain themselves once the
inheritance has been passed on. If the parents have many children this
can prove to be a problem.
How much is given also depends on whether the marriage is felt
to be stable and well conceived. If, even after the elaborate series of
rituals and exchanges which may last a year or more (see Carter 1977),
the parents are not convinced that the union will last, they may with¬
hold a larger part of what will be given, until they see how events
unfold. Then the couple's share will be augmented from time to time
until they have received their full inheritance.
Marriages are freuqently, but not exclusively, endogamous
within the aylJjj. Currently, approximately 60 percent of marriages in
Sarata occur within the ayi1u and 40 percent outside of it. This trend
has not varied greatly since the 18th century. It is interesting to
note that the same 60:40 percent ratio has been documented in the

230
Aymara-speaking village of Chinchera by Hickman and Stuart (1977:47)
and figures very close to this have been reported by Isbell (1977:133)
for the Quechua village of Chuschi both in the 17th century and in the
1950s.
The decision to marry someone from the a.yl 1 u or someone from
outside it is made by balancing several very important considerations.
It is usually considered that marrying someone from the a.yllu gives one
a better opportunity to prejudge their character. It gives a chance to
know the potential spouse's family and whether the person is honest,
hardworking, thrifty, and good-natured. Marrying within the ayllu also
makes a continued relationship with the parental household possible and
allows the newly formed affinal kin to engage in mutually beneficial
interchanges of goods and services. Marriage outside the a.y 11 u, on the
other hand, can provide access to diversified landholdings, and this
makes it a very attractive alternative.
Another type of exogamous marriage involves young people who
work seasonally in the cities or in Tambopata. Often these younq men
or women meet someone they would like to marry. They have the respon¬
sibility to bring this person home to their parents for approval.
If approval is received, the wedding is held in the community of one
or the other spouse, with the blessing of friends and kin. If the
family does not approve, and if the couple remains determined to marry,
it is generally conceded that they should do so and not return home
until two to three years have passed, and after the first child has been
born. Even though the parents may have tried to discourage the union,

231
they will rarely reject their grandchildren, and if the woman or man
has proven to be a good marriage partner in the first few years,
blessings are given and interchanges between the households are initi¬
ated.
Edmund Leach has said, "there are two kinds of marriage. The
first results from the whims of two persons acting as private individuals
The second is a systematically organized affair which forms part of a
series of contractual obligations between two groups" (Leach 1951:24).
Aymara marriage is of the second variety. It is an economic union
between three household units in which the family of the man and the
family of the woman incur mutual obligations toward one another, at the
same time that the newly married couple incur obligations toward both
sets of parents and siblings.
Carter (1977) has described the long series of wedding cere¬
monies that symbolically tie Aymara newlyweds to their spouses' families.
The process also creates very real economic obligations by the provision
of land, seed, animals, and other resources. An Aymara couple enters
their productive life surrounded by networks of commitments and respon¬
sibilities. As Carter says, "by the time the ceremonial sequence has
been completed, couples have so many social obligations to kindred of
bride, groom, and godparents, that they will be involved in lending
and borrowing of goods and services for the rest of their lives" (1977:
210).
Because of the complexity and the long-term nature of the obli¬
gations they bring, Aymara marriages are not easily dissolved. Divorces

232
in Ayinara communities are rare occurrences and are strongly discouraged
by the families of the married couple. Because the commitments formed
in the marriage process involve several family groups and a large number
of people, only a clearcut refusal to abide by those commitments, and
not the whims or desires of individuals, is sufficient basis to end the
relationship. It is for this reason also, that in the case of the
death of a spouse, the sororate and levirate are often practiced.
At the most basic level, the obligations incurred by the act of
marriage in Aymara society stem from the removal of a productive member
from his or her household. The valued labor capacities of that
individual become unavailable to the household which has nurtured them.
Therefore, this household must demand reciprocation for the investment
its members have made. This aspect of alliance systems has often been
recognized in the anthropological literature (Lévi-Strauss 1969; Leach
1951; Goody 1976; M.eillassoux 1972) but analysis has most often been
limited to the exchange, by men, of the labor capacities of women.
For the Aymara, the productive capacities of the sexes are
equally valued. The division of labor which exists between the sexes
is immensely flexible. Tasks performed by males and females within an
Aymara family were tabulated and compared in Chapter Three. There are
no tasks that a male or female will refuse to perform if the necessity
arises, and while there are certain tasks which fall more frequently
into the domain of males or females, these are far fewer than in most
societies.
Because of this situation, a domestic unit which gives up a son
or a brother to the formation of a new household is structurally

233
equivalent to a domestic unit which gives up a daughter or sister. In
both cases, the group which provides the potential worker is entitled
to receive deferent behavior and goods and services from the new
family.
Obviously, this arrangement creates networks of obligations
which are both symmetrical and asymmetrical. A son-in-law is always
subordinate to his wife's relatives, in the same way that a daughter-
in-law is subordinate to her husband's. At the level of the parent
families, however, the obligations become balanced and reciprocal, for
both sets of parents have contributed a productive member to the forma¬
tion of the new household. Any inequalities which exist are a result of
differences in prosperity between the two.
Such inequalities, along with the inherent structural property
of having divested each other of productive household members, often
serve to create formalized or informal antagonisms at the level of the
parent households. Carter has noted such hostilities in the wedding
process. He further states that Aymara wedding ceremonies do not
attempt to symbolically reduce differences in wealth or status to an
"inane equality" but rather they reward "industriousness and frugality
with the fruits of prestige" (1977:210). These inequalities, however,
are strictly the result of individual circumstances. There is no struc¬
tural reason for the conferring of greater prestige on the family of
either the male or the female.
Symmetries and assymetries in the obligations incurred by
marriage are marked by the Aymara affinal kin terminology. The relevant

234
relationships are diagrammed in Figure 5-4 and the terms themselves are
presented in Table 5-3. The term yuqch'a at the present time is applied
to one's son's wife or one's brother's wife. It refers to a woman who
is conceived of as removing a productive male from the nuclear family
which raised him and can perhaps best be glossed as "husband-taker."
In Bertonio's time the term was apparently used by all members of the
new husband's family to refer to his wife, with the exception of his
brothers who called her inarmiha (warinixa--"niy wife/woman").
Table 5-3. Aymara affinal kinship terms
and their meanings
Lari:
WBa
Ipala:
HZ
Tullqa:
Dll
ZH
Yuqch'a:
Ski
EH
Tiyala:
WZ
Tiwula:
HB
aSee note in Table 5-1 for explanation
of abbreviated kin terms.
The relationship of the .yuqch'a to her husband's family is
structured around the recognition that their son or brother is now pro¬
ducing for her. She must show the proper respect and deference to her

235
=¡fT zt®
=¡B Ó=A
=rtD
Jpó
Á Ó=&
©=zT~^
©JT~1
E
Figure 5-4. Aymara affinal relationships

236
new in-laws. She must exchange labor with them in ayni whenever
requested. In certain work party activities, such as house construc¬
tion or roofing, not only her participation but certain symbolic gifts
are necessary (see Mayer 1977). The yugch'a must serve food to her
husband's family when they are mourning.
The male counterpart of the yugch'a or "husband-taker" is the
tullqa or "wife-taker." Tullga is the term applied to the man who
marries one's daughter or sister. According to Bertonio, however, in
1603 the term was used by all of a women's kin to refer to her husband.
Like the yugch'a, the tullqa owes respect and deference to the household
from which he removed a productive member, lie also must always be willing
to exchange labor in a.yni with his affines and he has certain ceremonial
responsibilities.
Named behavioral categories equivalent to yugch'a and tullqa
have been found in other parts of the Andes. Mayer (1977) and Isbell
(1978) have described the position of mas ha and llumtshuy (masa and
1lumchuy) in the Quechua-speaking regions of Tangor in Pasco, and
Chuschi in Ayacucho. Webster (1977) has documented the affinal cate¬
gories kakay and q"ata.y in Q'ero, Cuzco. Harris (1978) has described
a "wife-taker" relationship which seems to correspond to that of tullqa
in northern Potosí in Bolivia.
Where there are categories of people who receive husbands and
wives, it is reasonable to assume there are categories of people who give
them. Husband's sister, in Sarata, is called i pa 1 a, and this term is
conceived of as being the reciprocal of yugch^a--brother's wife. As an

237
affinal term it corresponds to a category of "husband-giver," or more
specifically, "the females who give one a husband." As was described
previously, ipa, in Bertonio's time, also referred to father's sister.
The brother of one's wife, in current terminology is lari. Lari
is the term which is reciprocal to tul 1qa and a lari is conceived of as
being a "wife-giver" or a "man who gives one a wife." In Bertonio's
time, lari was also used to refer to mother's brother.
The correspondence of the terns for wife's brother and mother's
brother and of the terms for husband's sister and father's sister have
led to debate over whether a system of wife exchange existed in the
Andes at some point in the past. Lounshury (1964) interpreted these
equivalences as an indication of a system of assymetric alliance. Thomas
Zuideiaa, who first agreed with Lounsbury's interpretation (1964), later
changed his views (1977). He argued that Lounsbury's assumptions of
assymmetric exchange required a three-generation system, and Zuidema's
continuing research in the Andes convinced him that a four-generation
cycle was the common pattern. He suggested that a two-section system
with symmetrical cross-cousin marriage was more likely to have been the
case. It must be remembered that Bertonio's data indicated that six
generations were relevant in the system of the 1600s. It seems likely
that some type of formalized exchange of marriage partners ordered Andean
kinship systems in the past, althoguh more detailed investigations both
of historical data and current ethnographic patterns is needed to clarify
how such an exchange would have operated.
Yuqch'a and tullqa both have obligations to their spouse’s
families. Ipala and lari, as representatives of those families, have

238
rights to receive these services, as do the t'a.ykch'i and awkch' i--the
mother-in-law and father-in-law--of either partner and the tiyala
("wife's sister") and tiwula ("husband's brother"). These are the
people who receive respect and deference, who may request the labor of
their affines in ayni with the expectation that they will accept, and
who can expect certain ceremonial and work party services.
Tul loa and yuqch'a have the status of outsiders with regard to
the families of their respective spouses. Upon marriage and the forma¬
tion of a new family unit, the spouses also lose, in some contexts, their
status as members of their own natal group. The son or brother of a
family may be called by the otherwise female term yuqch'a, in order to
associate him with his wife and to emphasize his dissociation from his
parental group. His children may also be called by this term. A woman
may be referred to as tullqa by her own family, focusing on her status
as a member of a new and independent household and symbolically changing
her status with regard to the nuclear family that raised her. Her
children can also be called tullaa. This seems to signify a change in the
relationship between parent and child from that of protector and ward to
one of exchange and reciprocity between households.
Whatever their relationship, if any, to an earlier system of
prescriptive marriage, Aymara affinal terms today mark some of the most
important exchange relationships in Aymara society. Today there are no
marriage prescriptions, but one's spouse--and their kin--are carefully
chosen for their admired qualities. To put the matter somewhat crudely,
it is an Aymara attitude that one may minimize relationships with the

239
extended family, because one cannot chose one's relatives, and except
for parents and occasionally older siblings, one owes them nothing.
Affinal kin, however, are chosen, and they give one the valuable gift
of a spouse. For this reason, relationships with affines are carefully
and conscientiously guarded.
Compadrazgo
Another class of relatives whose members are chosen rather than
ascribed are compadres ("co-parents"). Compadrazgo is the Spanish term
for the relationship created when a godparent sponsors a child's baptism
or some other church ritual. The custom was introduced into the
Americas soon after the Conquest and became widely employed and accepted
by indigenous groups in all parts of Latin America. The rapid acceptance '
of compadrazgo and the way in which many of its aspects became transformed
from region to region has led some researchers to postulate a syncretism
between the Spanish custom and some pre-Hispanic category of kinship
(Davila 1971).
A godmother or godfather is required for several ritual events
in a person's lifetime in Sarata. The most notable of these events are
baptism, first haircutting, and marriage. Distinct types of compadrazgo
relationships result from sponsorship on these different occasions.
The most traditional occasion for sponsorship by godparents in
the Spanish tradition is baptism. Dearly all babies in the district of
Sarata are baptized. The Catholic belief in limbo for unbaptized souls
has been assimilated, and it is felt that unbaptized children in a com¬
munity, who are at risk in this matter, are responsible for hailstorms.

240
Baptism in Aymara is called sutiyana ("to cause to have a name").
The godparent is known as sutimama or sutitata ("name mother" or "name
father") as are all other sponsors of ritual events. Bertonio commented
on the verb sutichaña or sutiyana in 1612 because of some aspects of its
use which disturbed him as a priest. He noted: "Some say that this verb
also means to baptize [in addition to its sense of 'giving a name'] but
I do not take this for certain or for good, because in no sense does it
mean to wash nor anything similar . . . and if it does not mean to wash
then neither can it mean baptize and it cannot be used as a syllable
3
that enters into the form of Holy Baptism." To avoid any possible con¬
fusion witha heathen rite, Bertonio then suggested the use of the verb
baptizaba in the Aymara baptismal ritual (1612:330).
In other areas of the Andes it has been reported that couples jointly
sponsor baptisms or that men enter the compadrazgo relationship as represen¬
tatives of their families (Hickman and Stuart 1977:55). In Sarata, com¬
padrazgo is entered into by individuals. When a man or a woman is asked
to sponsor a child, their entire family, just as the family of the child,
enter into the compadrazgo relationship in a subsidary way, but the
primary relationship is with the individual who is the sponsor. It is
generally held that a boy should have a male sponsor, and that a girl
should have a female, although in practice there are exceptions.
O
"Algunos dizen que este verbo también significa baptizar, yo no
lo tengo por seguro ni bueno porque de ninguna manera quiere dezir lavar,
ni cosa que le parezca. ... y pues no significa lavar, tan poco sig¬
nificaba baptizar, ni podra ser vocablo que entre en la forma de sancto
baptismo, y asi guando uno enseñare a algún indio ladino, o a otro las
palabras con que en caso de necesidad aya de baptizar acójase a lo
seguro, y digale que diga asi: Nahua baptizasma Auquina Yocansa
Espiritu Santo Sutipana" (Bertonio 1612:330).

241
The person asked to sponsor a child may or may not be a relative.
Lambert (1977:23) has suggested that when a relative is chosen as a
compadre or comadre ("co-father" or "co-mother") the institution may
assume functions similar to complimentary filiation in unilineal socie¬
ties, binding the child to the parental group with whom ties are less
strong. It is true that in Sarata compadrazgo ties often serve to rein¬
force extended family relationships that would otherwise be neglected.
This applies only to consanguineal kin, however. Compadrazgo ties and
ties of affinal kinship are almost always mutually exclusive.
Requesting that a consanguineal relative become a compadre
serves to limit one's array of kin. Whether a person chooses to so
limit their relationships, or to expand them as much as possible by
sponsoring occasions for unrelated people, and requesting their sponsor¬
ship, depends on their economic situation as they perceive it at the time.
Entering into compadrazgo with unrelated persons creates valuable
exchange relationships on which one can draw at a later time, but it
requires that one be economically secure enough to make the initial
investments which sponsorship involves.
As Dávila (1971) has emphasized, when compadrazgo ties are
formed through the baptism of a child, the important relationship is
between the parents and godparent, who became compadres to one another.
The fact that the relationship between adults is primary in Sarata is
attested to by the fact that on some occasions animals will be baptized
and named in order to create the bond of compadrazgo. While a godparent
has certain obligations toward a child that they baptize, such as buying

242
clothes for the baptism, and helping to outfit him or her for school,
there is a great deal of variability in how scrupulously such expec¬
tations are complied with.
No matter what the economic or social status of the parties
involved, the relationship between compadres in Sarata is always
inherently unequal. The person who requests the sponsorship of their
child is structurally indebted to the person who is asked. This inequal¬
ity is only neutralized if the situation is played out in reverse and
the godparent requests the sponsorship in baptism of their own child by
their compadre or comadre. Despite the structural inequality of the
relationship the major element of compadrazgo is the mutual respect
between the adults in question.
After the ceremony of church baptism, a meal is served to the
child's sponsor by the parents and then alcohol and coca may be offered.
The compadres ritually bless each other, and from that time forth they
must address each other by terms of compadrazgo rather than by name,
and they must use the formal Ud_. form of address with one another when
speaking Spanish rather than the informal tú.
Sponsors of the first haircutting ceremony or rutuchi have a
role in the life of the child and its parents similar to that of spon¬
sors of baptism. The ceremony itself differs. Each family member who
is present at the ceremony, which takes place in the parents' home, cuts
a lock of the child's hair and places a sum of money with the clipping
on a cloth next to a pile of coca. The godparent of the rutuchi is
expected to place a larger amount and to finish up the haircut once

243
everyone else has had several turns. Today, boys' hair is cut shorter
than girls because Aymara men wear their hair cut close to the head,
4
although until the 1920s men on the a 11i pi ano wore a long braid.
After the hair is cut, alcohol is served and the compadres
mutually bless each other, as in the baptismal ceremony. The same prin¬
ciples of mutual respect and structural inequality also characterize this
relationship. The rutuchi godparent is responsible for providing a baby
sheep or some other herd animal for the godchild either at the time of
the haircutting or soon afterwards.
The compadrazgo relationship initiated by sponsorship of a
marriage is very different in nature from baptismal or rutuchi compadraz¬
go. Two godparents or sets of godparents are chosen for a marriage.
These two sets correspond to the "vertical" versus "horizontal" types
of compadrazgo described by Mintz and Wolf (1950). The jach'a parinu
or jach'a sutimama/sutitata ("large godparents") are almost always
people of a higher level of social status. For people of the communi¬
ties of Sarata this is almost without exception someone from the town.
The jisk'a parinu or jisk'a sutimama/sutitata ("small godparents") are
someone of equal social status, usually from one's own community.
The responsibilities of these two classes of godparents vary.
"Large godparents" are expected to come to the wedding or send a
representative, but take little part in the ceremony. Their later
responsibilities to the young couple center around the provision of
^Some men still have these long braids as "hairpieces" which
they pin on for certain dances and ritual activity.

244
advice when asked, help in acquiring legal services when necessary,
and occasionally, giving loans. These are services typical of what
Foster (1963) has called a patron-client relationship.
"Small godparents" take an active part in the marriage cere¬
monies. They advise and make "recommendations" to the new couple about
how to lead their married life. After the wedding, their relationship
to the couple continues to be on an intimate and personal level. While
the couple may take gifts to their "large godparents" they engage in
regular exchanges of goods and services with their "small godparents."
At the time of their marriage, for example, the "small godparents" may
provide the couple with a cow. When the cow gives birth the couple may
give the first of its offspring to the godparents in return.
In addition to material exchanges, the flow of advice continues
after the marriage, as well. If a marriage godparent sees a couple
"living badly"--quarreling or drinking or not fulfilling their respon¬
sibilities--!^ or she must point out to them their errors and impress on
them in some way the need to behave correctly. If divorce becomes
inevitable, the godparents must help in arranging a settlement. While
this is theoretically a responsibility of both sets of godparents, it is
likely that only the "small godparents" will be in a position to closely
observe the couple's behavior and problems.
While compadrazgo initiated through baptism or haircutting is
most often contracted between a child's parents and an individual, god¬
parents of a marriage are related to the young couple themselves. It is
also distinguished from other forms of compadrazgo in that a couple,

245
rather than an individual, is usually asked to sponsor the wedding. They
are considered an older and wiser unit analogous to the young people.
The older man has most responsibility for advising and correcting the
young man, as does the older woman for the young man.
The Community and the 11arka
In addition to the realm of kinship in the district of Sarata,
the people who live in the same community frequently engage in productive
interactions and exchanges and perceive themselves as having a special
relationship to one another. There is, of course, a significant amount
of overlap in kin and community relationships. The kindred formed by
the descendants of three ascending generations of consanguineal kin can
include virtually a whole community. Those people not included are the
most marriageable, and thus likely to be affines. Even if an explicit
kin tie is not recognized, however, people who live in the same place
regard themselves as having a special relationship.
In the district of Sarata, as described in Chapter One, there
are twelve ayllu, which are divided into 38 communities or parcialidades.
Communities or parcialidades are characterized, as political units, by
having a teniente who represents them to the district government.
Communities are recognized at the national level as well, while par¬
cialidades are not. These units, however, differ greatly in size and
other characteristics. The smallest parcialidad in the district of
Sarata has 60 people (ten families) and the largest has nearly 2800
people. Nearly all communities and parcialidades have schools, commun¬
ity centers, and one or more other buildings or works which result from
*

246
their communal effort and are administered by community officials.
Some have gone so far as to construct miniature towns, with post
offices, health centers, hydroelectric plants, running water, high
schools, and other services. These communities are referred to as "pro¬
gressive" by people in the district. Other communities have a bare
minimum of community projects and have difficulty administering what
they have to the satisfaction of all concerned.
As discussed in Chapter One, while the ay11u in Sarata is
pre-Hispanic in origin, the communities and parcialidades are recent
developments, having for the most part split off from the ayllu in order
to receive independent, partially government-funded schools. Thus,
other solidarity-producing mechanisms may be present or absent. A
group which petitioned for a school and political recognition may have
been a close-knit cooperating unit, or it may have been made up of
people for whom it was convenient to join their efforts for that cause
only.
Every household in the district of Sarata is, however, bound
to another group of households in a solidary network. Every household
exchanges labor with others and engages in other forms of economic
cooperation. When a community is small (60 to 500 people), this unit
of cooperation often, but not always corresponds to the community.
When the community is large, households which reside close together
tend to group into economically cooperating sections of a more feasible
size. In communities where there is divisiveness or lack of solidarity
at the level of formal organization, these smaller units fulfill

247
functions of economic exchange. Such units most often consist of 100 to
250 people. They are always named and often with names which are much
older than that of the community or parcialidad.
Whether at the level of the community or parcialidad, or of
some smaller unit, there are strong bonds among people who live in the
same place. "Place" in this sense is expressed in Aymara as marka.
People of the same marka share labor in ayni, share goods in times of
need; they celebrate fiestas and weddings together, and they help each
other in the cities or in the valleys when they migrate. Overlapping
ties of kinship and ritual kinship and intermarriage exist between
families of a given marka, but joint residence is sufficient grounds
for economic cooperation. This is true both at home, and when two people
encounter one another in a far-away place, in Tambopata or the coastal
cities.
The relationships described form the basis for the economic
give and take of Aymara society. A person does not work or travel or
share with strangers, but with people with whom he or she has some
on-going relationship. In Aymara society, there are certain classes
of people with whom one must cooperate in these ways (parents, affines,
and compadres), and others with whom one can feel free to cooperate
when necessary (siblings, extended family and members of one's marka).
The migratory activities which allow Aymara households to sur¬
vive, and at times to thrive, in their environment draw on these intimate
social (and economic) ties. Aymara people rely on their established
social relationships to make migration and simultaneous production in

248
two distant regions a possibility. This is true not only in the
present-day context, but it appears to have been so in the past. The
antiquity of the pattern of exploitation of lowland ecosystems is
attested to, in part, by the fact that aspects of pre-Hispanic social
structure continue to be found in the present-day system, despite the
considerable pressures for change since the Spanish Conquest. More
precisely, the antiquity of the pattern is attested to by the observa¬
tion that many of those aspects of social structure which have been
maintained facilitate in the present the seasonal migration to the
Valley of Tambopata.

CHAPTER SIX
KINSHIP AND COMMUNITY IN THE MIGRATORY PROCESS
Experiences of Kinship and Migration
in One Sarata Community
The institutions of kinship and community described in the
previous chapter are those which organize migratory activity in the
district of Sarata. In order to provide a context for the discussion
of the ways in which they operate, this chapter will first present
several migratory histories. The persons'whose migratory experiences
will be related are all from the intermediate zone community of Ch'iqa.
They are all related by ties of consanguineal and affinal kinship. Some
of their migratory experiences were successful, while those of others
were not. The oldest members of the families lived in the Bolivian
valleys of Ambana and Larecaja in the 1940s, and made the transition to
the production of coffee in the Tambopata Valley after it became more
difficult for Peruvians to own Bolivian land in the 1950s.
All of the migrants who will be described relied on ties of
kinship for information and support and for labor exchange in Tambopata
and in order to maintain production on the altiplano. In addition to
illustrating the nature of these kinds of interactions, the migratory
histories also make clear that during certain periods in the domestic
cycle of the households and the life cycle of individuals, migration
is far more important than others. (See Figure 6-1.)
'Al 1 names have been changed to protect the anonymity of the
persons involved.
249

X
M'»"l Mil,Hr
Figure 6-1
A group of seasonal migrants from the district of Sarata and their kin relationships
250

251
Mauricio Mayta Condori and Justina Condori Apaza
Mauricio Mayta first visited the Tambopata Valley in the early
1940s when he was eight years old. He traveled with his father, Lorenzo,
and his father's brother Martin, from their home in the community of
Ch'iqa. Ch'iqa lies in the intermediate zone of the district of Sarata,
where both agriculture and herding are practiced.
The journey the two older men made with young Mauricio was in
part an exploratory one. None of them had ever been to Tambopata before,
although Martin and his wife Paula had lived for nearly 20 years in
the yungas of Bolivia, and had only returned to their home community two
years previously. They had enjoyed life in the yungas, where they had
grown corn and barley and wheat, and occasionally worked for the coffee
haciendas of the region. As they felt themselves growing older, however,
they also felt a need to return to the altiplano, and to the lands and
animals they had left there under the care of their brothers and sisters.
With the arrival of another dry season, and the completion of
the harvest and ch'unu-tnaking, Martin had suggested to his brother
Lorenzo that they travel to Tambopata to see what the valley was like
and how it compared to Bolivia. Both Lorenzo and Martin suspected that
traveling and owning land in Bolivia would grow harder in the years to
come. Land pressure had begun to be felt in the yungas as a result of
hacienda expansion, and this had awakened sentiments of nationalism
among Bolivians which were manifested in stricter regulation of land
deeds and other types of legal and bureaucratic problems. Many Peruvians
had left the yungas ten years earlier, in order to avoid conscription

252
for the Chaco War. A large number of them, Martin and Lorenzo had
heard, were setting up small coffee farms of their own in the Tainbopata
Vailey.
Most people from the district of Sarata knew relatively little
about Tainbopata at this time. People from Ch'iqa remembered that this
was the place where their ancestors had mined gold and where contractors
in the late 1800s and early 1900s had taken men to search for quinine and
rubber. Because the valleys of Bolivia were so much easier to reach,
they had never cultivated land in Tambopata. The small coffee producers
of which Lorenzo and Martin had heard appeared to be quite successful,
however, and they had decided that if the land were good and the journey
not too difficult, they would claim plots in the valley for their
children.
In order to finance the journey, the men took six llamas with
them. These were laden not only with their own provisions, which
consisted mainly of kañiwa flour, but also with ch'uñu and dried meat.
They knew that people cultivating coffee in the valley would pay high
prices for these foodstuffs either in cash or in coffee beans. In this
way Lorenzo and Martin hoped not only to finance their trip but also
to make a small profit to take back to the altiplano.
Their journey lasted three months from start to finish and took
them not only into the Tambopata River Valley, but along the Inambari
River and several of its small tributaries as well. Lorenzo unofficially
claimed three plots in the course of the trip, one for each of his
three children. The first of these was in the upper Tambopata Valley,

253
near Yanahuaya; another was further down the valley close to a place
called Putinapunku; and a third lay on the banks of the Inambari. Trees
were marked by the men on each of these plots and a cursory clearing
of the land was attempted. Eight-year-old Mauricio was charged with
remembering these spots and with how he had reached them.
When Mauricio was 18 he married Justina Condori Apaza. At this
time, he returned to the valleys and was able to locate all but one of
the plots of land. He and Justina planted oranges and coffee on the
land in the upper Tambopata, which was by far the most accessible. His
father was still living at this time, but considered himself too old to
make the journey. He stayed on the altiplano and cared for the animals
belonging to Mauricio and Justina. Mauricio never took his brother and
sister to the places where their plots had been claimed, since by the
time they were old enough to go to the valley it was possible to claim
lands closer to the established trade route through the government
Office of Indian Migration.
Mauricio continued going to Tambopata for more than 20 years.
After Justina began having children she stopped making the trip and
Mauricio traveled most often with his compadre Eugenio--the godfather
of his oldest child. Justina died in the early 1970s as a result of
complications in childbirth, and Mauricio, who by then was nearing forty,
never returned to the valley after her death. Production on his land
dropped sharply in the years immediately before Justina died due to
erosion problems. More importantly, since his father had also died a few
years earlier, Mauricio had no one to leave in charge of the land and
the animals on the altiplano.

254
Prospera Chaina Moll i and Paulino Ma.yta Paxsi
Paulino is the half-brother of Mauricio Mayta. The two shared
the same father, but Matilde Condori, who was Mauricio's mother, died
shortly after his birth and Mauricio's father married Petrona Paxsi a
few years later. Paulino, from his early childhood, had wanted to travel
to Tambopata, but he had never had the opportunity to do so. He per¬
ceived the valley as a place for adventure, and where he could make a
fortune for himself. Paulino did not have a right to any of the plots
claimed by his father during his trip in the 1940s since these had been
designated specifically for the children of Matilde Condori. Mauricio
and Paulino did not get along well, and Mauricio consistently refused to
take his young half-brother to the valley with him or to help him get
started.
When he was twenty years old, Paulino married Prospera Chaina
Moll i. Prospera, who was also from the community of Ch'iqa, owned land
in Tambopata which she had inherited from her father. She traveled
regularly to the valley where she and her three brothers worked their
adjacent plots as one unit. In addition to harvesting and caring for
coffee, she often carried highland products to the valley to sell and
brought back fruits and vegetables for sale on the altiplano. By
marrying Prospera, Paulino not only gained access to a piece of land in
Tambopata, but also to the experience and assistance in cultivating
valley land of Prospera and her brothers.
After their marriage, and once Paulino and Prospera had set up
a separate household on the altiplano, it was necessary for someone to

255
care for their animals and household complex during the migratory
period. Since neither of the young people wanted to give up going to
the valley, they asked Prospera's parents to care for their altiplano
affairs while they were gone. This arrangement worked well enough for
the first few years and they continued with it even after the birth of
their first child. Little by little, however, Prospera and Paulino
began to realize that they were not producing enough food on the altiplano
to last them through the year. They both returned for the planting in
September, but the fact that no one had been gathering and drying the
dung for fertilizer, or sorting and preparing seed, or removing stones
from the fields, made them perpetually late in starting and able to
plant less than they would have otherwise.
As a result of these problems, each year the couple had to buy
more food to meet their household needs. On several occasions their
stores were so low by the end of the year that they even had to purchase
seed potatoes. Their long absences from the al ti piano were also the
cause of an increasing number of disagreements with Prospera's parents
over the care of the animals.
The series of events which finally put an end to Prospera and
Paulino's joint travels to the valley occurred shortly after the birth
of their second child. The baby, a healthy boy named Javier, was born
in the month of November. The next April, Prospera took him to the
valley with her. After a few weeks the baby became ill with a fever,
which lasted more than a month. He seemed to have recovered properly,
but when Prospera returned to the al ti piano, she noted that he was not

256
growing as fast as she would have expected. In April of the following
year, when Javier was 18 months old, Prospera was disturbed by the fact
that he still was not trying to talk. She felt sure that the fever he
had contracted in the valley was the cause of this and so she decided
to remain on the altiplano that year and to keep the child with her.
Prospera and Paulino quickly realized that this arrangement
served them both much better. The tensions with Prospera's family were
eased; and she was able to perform the maintanance and processing tasks
which kept the household running smoothly throughout the year, and which
had proven too much for them when they both were migrating. Relations
with other community members, who had called the couple unduly ambitious
when they both migrated, were also improved. The fact that both Prospera
and Paulino made the journey to the valley had prevented them from
meeting all of their community responsibilities and from holding up
their end of the many exchange relationships they became involved in
upon their marriage. This had been a further source of tension for the
couple for several years.
Paulino continued making the trip to Tambopata from April through
August and from November through January with his wife's brothers. They
lived together there and worked the land together and once they traveled
down the Tambopata River together to the place where it touches the
Bolivian border. They marked themselves plots in this region, but have
never yet returned to clear them, saying they will probably be for their
children.
One year Paulino was supposed to return to the altiplano in late
July in order to take care of some legal matters. When he did not

257
arrive, Prospera sent messages and he, in turn, sent word through her
brothers when they returned that he would be back in time for the fiesta
of Santa Rosa which falls in the last week of August. He did not
return by this date either, and other community members who worked in
the valley began to send messages to Prospera that he was drinking and
spending his money. Porspera's brothers sent a message that if he were
not home by the fiesta of Exaltación de la Cruz in September, they would
come to bring him back.
Paulino arrived for the fiesta. Because the price of coffee
was rising, he had not turned his harvested beans over to the coopera¬
tive at the same time as had his brothers-in-law. He kept them, hoping
to get the highest possible price before returning home. The price,
instead of continuing to rise, however, dropped sharply in mid-August
and Paulino lost the equivalent of $400.00. His distress, shame, and
fear of his wife's anger had made him hesitant to return to the altiplano
with his story.
Nicolás Mayta Paxsi and Eeleca Paxsi Ticona
Nicolas is a full brother of Paulino Mayta Paxsi and a half-
brother of Mauricio Mayta Condor!. He was the youngest of the family
and both his father and his mother died before he was five years old.
His older brothers cared for him until lie reached the age of 13. At
this time, he was living with Paulino and Prospera, and they suggested
that he find a wife and marry and set up a household of his own. Nicolas
agreed to marry Feleca Paxsi Ticona, a girl of 12 who was also from Ch'iqa.

258
He went to live with Feleca and her family, where the young couple were
given a separate room but continued to cook and eat with the rest of the
household. By the time Nicolás was 18 and Feleca 17, they had four
children.
At this time Feleca's father suggested to Nicolas that he con¬
sider migrating to Tambopata or to Arequipa for part of the year. The
household could use the money, especially since several of the children
were approaching school age, and Nicolas' absence could only slow down
the couple's birth rate. Nicolás decided to go to Tambopata, but since
he was angry at his brothers for having made him marry so young, he decided
to work as a wage laborer rather than on Paulino's land.
The year Nicolás went to the valley was a bad one, with coffee
prices at the lowest level in years. The highest jornal, or daily wage,
Nicolás could earn was s/. 100, which was the equivalent of slightly more
than one dollar. The coffee had suffered from a type of rust that year
and there was not even work available on a daily basis. After paying his
expenses, Nicolás had only enough money for his truckride home, and he
sold his sweater in order to have enough money to buy oranges for his
children.
After this experience, Nicolás did not go back to Tambopata. He
went instead to work as a day laborer on large cooperatives in the
Departments of Lima and Arequipa during the dry seasons. He traveled
occasionally with his father-in-law to the nearby Bolivian valleys to
trade wool and meat for corn, but he had no desire to return to the ceja
de selva of Peru.

259
Pañi el a Mayta Condor i
Daniela is the oldest daughter of Mauricio and his wife Justina.
She began travleing to Tambopata with her father when she was 16. She
helped him harvest and also carried on an active commercial enterprise.
She brought meat, cheese, and potatoes to the valley from Juliaca
nearly every week, and returned with oranges, tangerines, papayas, and
plantains. When Justina died, Daniela was 18 and she continued her trade
between valley and highlands after her father stopped going to the valley.
She worked out contracts for the buying and selling of goods with Juliaca
merchants and gradually increased the scale of her enterprise. By the
time she was 22, Daniela was returning home infrequently. This worried
her father who wanted her to marry a man from the community and set up
a household near his own. lie had more than enough land for them, and he
did not like to see Daniela succumb to the city lifestyle.
Santiago Mayta Mamani
Santiago was the son of Fabiana Mayta Condori, the sister of
Mauricio, and of Valentin Mamani Mamani. His travels to Tambopata,
which began when he was twenty years of age, went much more smoothly
than those of Nicolas. Santiago was well liked by Paulino (his mother's
half-brother) who took him to the valley and began teaching him the
techniques of coffee cultivation. Santiago helped Paulino in return for
his food and lodging and Paulino promised to help Santiago claim and
clear a plot of his own after the harvest was over. This land would
probably be at some distance from the plot Paulino worked, but the two
would see each other often since they would both be members of the same
coffee cooperative.

260
Migration and the Development Cycle of the Household
These brief sketches of people from the community of Ch'iqa
represent a few of the many forms which migration to Tambopata can take.
They provide examples of some of the most common ways in which institu¬
tions of kinship are involved in the migration, both at the level of
the individual household and of the larger system of affinal, extended
family, and compadrazgo relationships.
One of the most salient aspects of the sketches is the way in
which migratory activity is related to the developmental cycle of the
households in question. Migration is not equally important to a house¬
hold in all stages of its existence. As the sex-age pyramid in Figure 6-2
demonstrates, it is clearly young people, and especially young men, who
migrate most frequently. In the district of Sarata, the 20-29 year
old age cohort is 50 percent smaller than that for 10-19 year olds, and
there are only 58.4 males for every 100 females in the 20-24 year age
group. The census data on which the age-sex pyramid is based were
collected in mid-June, which is the time of year when migratory activity
is heaviest.
Sarateños view the seasonal migration of young people, and the
cessation of migration with age, as a natural pattern. In fact, young
people who do not make any attempt to migrate, either to Tambopata or to
the city, are criticized for not wanting to better themselves, and
people who continue migrating after their children are grown are said
to be ambitious or greedy. As the cases described show, a parent is
expected to make some provision for their children to continue the

261
Figure 6-
75-
70-74
65-69
60 64
55-59
50-54
45-49
40-44
35-39
30-34
25-29
20-24
15-19
10-14
5-9
0-4
«*n '¡«»ii masculinitr
1500 1000 500 O 500 1000 1500
Number of People
Sex-age pyramid for the population of the district of
Sarata

262
migratory pattern, and to cease migrating themselves once the children
are of age.
The cessation of migration once children are grown does not
correspond, in most cases, to a weakening of a person's work abilities.
Most people stop migrating seasonally when they are in their forties.
Their productive capacity, however, does not usually begin to diminish
until 15 to 20 years later than this, and most people continue doing
relatively heavy agropecuarial work throughout their lives. Older
people continue to travel long distances for other purposes such as to
trade or to visit relatives. These sporadic movements differ, however,
from the regularly patterned movements of seasonal migration whose goal
is to provide an equally regular income.
The seasonal migration of young people is felt to be an important
step in the establishment of a new household. A young person who begins
migrating prior to marriage is seen as a stronger, more astute marriage
partner. While such a person must contribute part of their migratory
earnings to their parents if they still live with them, they are also
assumed to be saving toward the establishment of a new household. In
one lakeside community a brother and a sister who migrated seasonally
used their earnings to build a house together even before either had
married.
If a person does not begin seasonally migrating prior to his or
her marriage, he or she will almost surely feel pressure to do so after¬
wards. Part of the marriage process as described in Chapter Five con¬
sists of the provision by family and community members of lands, seed,

263
animals, and household goods for the young couple. In some cases, these
gifts are not sufficient, however, and in all cases there are many
initial expenses that the young people must meet themselves.
Even more importantly, the young couple also feels a need to
engage in seasonal migration in order to support their new family. Most
Aymara couples begin having children as soon as possible, and although
births are usually spaced three or more years apart, a couple supports
a maximum number of people during their twenties and early thirties. As
previously mentioned, most couples want, and have approximately five
children, although a woman who has five living children will most likely
have given birth to one or more others who have died.
As described in Chapter Three, children in Sarata contribute
relatively large amounts of labor to the household. This is mainly in
the form of household chores and help with herding, but it is invaluable
in freeing the parents to devote their time to more labor-intensive tasks
of agriculture and animal husbandry. Nevertheless, in terms of the
energy they bring into the household versus the energy they consume,
children are not "net contributors" until well into adolescence. Thus,
the adult members of the household provide energetic subsidies for their
children during the growth period. Limits on the time and human labor
which can be invested at critical periods in the agricultural cycle
often make it impossible to simply produce more food to meet increased
needs during this time. It may be necessary for the family to purchase
more foods such as rice, sugar, or bread, or to obtain more animals in
order to provide meat, milk, and cheese for the children and wool for

264
their clothing. There are also certain needs associated with children
which can only be met with cash, such as shoes, school uniforms and
supplies, and medicines and medical care.
One final way in which migratory activity is significant to
households which are establishing themselves and raising children is
the role that it can play in reducing and spacing conception of children.
Nicolás and Feleca, for example, were having children far too rapidly to
be able to accommodate and care for them, and Nicolas' absence for
several months of every year was prescribed by his father-in-law as a
means of remedying the problem. The effect of migration on the spacing
of births is consciously recognized and manipulated by the Aymara of
Sara ta.
A brief comparison with another study of household developmental
cycles and migration may help clarify the relationship between these
factors in Sarata. Lourdes Arizpe (1979; 1900) worked in two communities
in the Mazahua region of Mexico. She was interested in the apparent
decision of couples in one community which she studied to have as many
children as possible despite the fact that resources in the region were
limited. She found that fathers would migrate to the city to earn a cash
income while the children were young and that by the age of 14 both male
and female children would take his place there. The sons and daughters
would then contribute virtually all of their income to the parental
household for a period of five to seven years.
Arizpe contrasted this strategy, in which temporary migration
occurred throughout the developmental cycle of the household, with the

265
situation in a second community where it occurred only when economically
active and dependent household members were best balanced--that is, when
a surplus of labor was available. In the first community Arizpe inter¬
preted migratory activity as an economic necessity and the decision to
have large numbers of children as a means of increasing the number of
income-producing migrants. In the second community, where the resource
situation was more favorable, migration was interpreted as a supplemen¬
tary activity which was engaged in to increase cash supplies at times
when the absence of a household member was convenient.
Both of these cases contrast with the timing and significance
of seasonal migration in Sarata. Obviously the second more casual
migratory pattern is different but there are some important distinctions
between Sarata and Arizpe's first community as well, even though migra¬
tion in both is vital to household survival. In Arizpe's community,
adolescents migrate and return their income to their families for five
to seven years before marrying and male children often bring their
wives to live with their parents and continue contributing migratory
income to the parental household for many more years. Among the Aymara
of Sarata, young people migrate for the purpose of establishing a new
and independent household and their contributions to their parents are
gestures of good will which are based on the quality of the parent-child
relationship. It is considered right that a child contribute in this
manner, but there is no way of insuring that they will do so.
For this reason people in Sarata, while they highly value
children, do not do so because of the expectation that they will at some

266
point in the future be contributors of cash to hte household. Children
are valued economically because of the important role their labor plays
in allowing household tasks to be efficiently scheduled, because they
will be potential suppliers of high-quality labor in the future both
before and after they leave the household, and because at least one of
a household of children can be expected to take the responsibility of
caring for their parents in their old age. In the case described by
flrizpe, people have children to permit migration, while in the case of
sarateños they migrate to make it possible to raise children. In a sense
however, this statement oversimplifies the distinction, since in the
Mexican case as well, fathers must migrate initially to meet the needs
of the growing family until the children are old enough to take his
place.
The Household in Historical Patterns of Migration
As discussed in Chapter One, pre-Hispanic patterns of exploita¬
tion of lowland valleys by altiplano dwellers were organized at the level
of the regional political system. The Visita of Garci Diez de San
Miguel in 1567 described the colonization of both coastal and eastern
Andean valleys by the Lupaqa kingdom south of Lake Titicaca. Descrip¬
tions of the colonization of the eastern Andean valleys of Carabaya,
Ambana, and Larecaja by the Colla, Pacajes, and Lupaqa kingdoms have
been brought together by Saignes (1978). These colonists paid tribute
in lowland products to their highland chiefs which the chiefs then re¬
distributed among the highland population. Patterns of verticality based

267
on colonization appear to have been characteristic of the al ti piano as
early as the expansion of Tihuanaco, 600-1000 A.D., and in fact it may
have played a role in making this expansion possible (Lumbreras 1980).
They were characteristic of the altipi a no chiefdoms and were continued
and even increased during the period of Inca domination.
Movements directed by regional political powers would appear
to be quite different from present-day patterns which are organized
around the household and ties of kinship. Yet the differences are not
as great as might be imagined. The regional powers made decisions about
the number of colonists needed in the lowlands, and the amount of
tribute required of them. Within the context of these broad constraints,
however, it is possible, and probable, that kinship and family structure
played as large a role in these early movements as they do today.
The relationship between the lowland colonists and their high¬
land homes was a close one in the pre-Hispanic period. Saignes (1978)
has documented how the colonies in Bolivian valleys only became iso¬
lated from the al ti piano and other highland areas as a result of
Spanish-imposed administrative changes. Prior to these changes, the
lowland dwellers paid tribute in the highlands and their ties of kinship
and ritual kinship with the altiplano remained strong.
The fact that lowland colonies remained more or less constant
in number from year to year did not mean that their population was
static. CIPCA (1976:25) suggests that the lowland population was
constantly changing and renewing itself because of the health problems
experienced by highlanders who stayed there too long. Saignes suggests

268
that a position as colonist in the valleys may have been transmitted
in the same way as the status of yana or yanacona--one who owed services
to a given official. According to the Lupaqa administrator don Francisco
Vilcacutipa, the position of yana was passed on to one's eldest child.
Based on census lists of colonies in the eastern Bolivian valleys,
Saignes argues that a similar pattern probably held there, with the
eldest child (or the one who agreed to take their place) remaining in
the valley once their parents were unable to continue there. The other
children appear to have been free to return to their altiplano home or
to travel to other valley towns.
While Saignes speaks of the inheritance of, or succession to,
the position of colonist, it is not clear that this status would have
been transmitted only upon the death of a parent. A more reasonable
assumption would be that a child would take over production in the valley
when he or she came of age. The parent could then return to the altiplano,
leaving a younger, stronger representative, who among other things would
be better able to withstand the valley's climate and diseases. From
the point of view of the regional political unit this procedure would
have maintained permanent colonies in the region. For the altiplano
dwellers, however, the pattern was one of temporary migration, which
was practiced by households at certain stages of their domestic cycle.
This pattern continued long after the regional organization which de¬
manded it was gone, as illustrated by the case of Martin Mayta from the
community of Ch'iqa.
The fact that a permanent presence in the valleys was probably
maintained by temporary movement implies a greater degree of autonomy

269
for participating altiplano households than would be the case with truly
permanent colonies. It implies not only greater freedom of movement,
but also that activities were probably planned and scheduled with the
same concern for diversification and energy capture as they are today.
It is also significant that the households which would have been living
in the more energy-abundant valley ecosystems would have been in pre¬
cisely the same stage of household growth and establishment as those who
seasonally migrate today. It would not be far-fetched to imagine that
they also relied in similar ways on the structures of kinship to make
the migratory undertaking possible.
The situation in pre-Hispanic times was, in many ways, however,
more complex than that which exists today. The colonies from the north¬
ern altiplano in the Bolivian valleys were nowhere near as large in
total number, or as a percentage of the population, as the group which
takes part in present-day seasonal migratory activities. This was in
part a result of the existence of a regional system of redistribution
in which grains, coca, and other products of the valleys were brought
to the highlands and provided to non-participating families. This influx
of products meant little in terms of the net calories it provided, for
altiplano dwellers also paid taxes in ch'unu, animals, or wool. It did
diversify the diet, however, and more importantly, the government store¬
houses and redistribution systems filled gaps in years when production
was low or completely destroyed due to drought, hail, or frost.
In addition to the colonization of valley regions by a relatively
small number of households, there was another mechanism by which

270
altiplano dwel1ers gained access to lowland products in pre-Hispanic
times. This was through trade, an activity in which highlanders had
always had an advantage because of their control of animal transport.
Trading activities were largely independent of outside control and
were organized by households in relation to their needs and schedules.
Trading trips were, and still are, of greater importance in herding com¬
munities where overabundant animal products such as meat, or non-edible
ones, such as wool and skins, could be exchanged for a variety of
vegetable products and grains.
In the case of the colonization of the valleys, the cross
generational transmission of land or land rights was of great importance.
This is a great preoccupation among seasonal and temporary migrants
today, as the cases of Lorenzo, Martin, and Paulino Mayta illustrate.
Where trading trips are concerned, it is ties of ritual kinship with
lowland families which parents try today, and apparently tried in the
past, to transmit to their children.
Flores Ochoa (1977) has discussed the advantages of having
formalized trading partners, often but not always bound by ties of
compadrazgo. At the present time in Sarata, when an adolescent becomes
old enough to make the trip to the valleys by themselves, their parents
present them formally to their trading partners there. Although people
may continue making trading trips throughout their lifetime, there is
an expectation that the parents will eventually begin to make the
journey less frequently and that they will maintain contact with their
valley compadres through their children.

271
The Kinship Support System
The examples presented and subsequent discussion make it clear
that the major unit of decision-making for migratory strategies is
the household. A household, were it to exist in isolation, however,
would not be able to migrate seasonally. The household and its members
depend in many ways on their relationships with extended kin, affines,
and compadres to make migration possible.
Relationships with kin revolve around exchanges of many differ¬
ent varieties. This is true both in the normal interactions of everyday
life and in the special context of migration-related activities. Many
authors have enumerated and described the types of exchange relationships
which exist in the Andes (Mayer 1974), but since terms may vary in their
meaning from one place to another, or different terms may be applied to
similar concepts, a brief review of the types of exchange which occur
in Sarata will be presented.
Yanapa--"help" or "assistance" in Aymara--refers to gifts or
services which do not require a return prestation. This is not a free
gift, but is given in return for previously provided goods or services
which are perceived as being so great that no measured return would be
appropriate. A person gives yanapa to his or her parents, godparents,
or other persons who may have helped to care for them. There are few
other people to whom aid would be given on this basis.
Ayni is a type of exchange which is characterized by the lapse
of time which occurs between the initial act of prestation and its
return. It may refer to exchanges of goods, such as the food exchanges

272
described in Chapter Three, or to exchanges of labor by which difficult
agricultural tasks are carried out. The major advantage of such
exchanges is that they solve problems of scheduling. A person gives
something when they have it with the knowledge that they can receive
it back again in kind when they do not.
Ayjv[ exchanges may be short-term or long-term. During periods of
heavy agricultural labor, such as opening fallow ground or planting, or
when livestock require time-consuming care, such as at shearing, labor
exchanges occur on a short-term basis. People join together to plow
their neighbor's field on one day, their own on the next, and so on in
succession until everyone's fields are completed. The sequence in which
the fields are worked is governed by the micro-climates in which they
are located. Work begins where the crops are ripest or most susceptible
to insects or frost, and moves to fields where the work is less urgent.
Goods, as well as labor, can be exchanged on a short-term basis. A
woman might, for example, bring 25 pounds of sugar from Juliaca. She may
loan some of it to her neighbor with the expectation that she will be
repaid when the neighbor's children return from town with sugar for the
next fiesta.
Long-term ayni^ exchanges involving labor are characteristic of
such activities as building or roofing a house, in which the person who
owns the house becomes obligated to help all of the workers at some time
in the future when they begin a construction project. Goods may be
exchanged over longer periods of time as well, to allow a family to
make up a deficit in a bad year, to help them meet the expense of an

273
important ceremony or fiesta, or for a variety of other reasons. Gifts
given in weddings, ritual events, or fiestas are of this type. The
contribution of guests and participants is carefully noted and will be
reciprocated when that person (or their children) marry, perform a
baptism, or sponsor a fiesta.
These types of obligations may not be repaid for many years
if there is no immediate need to do so, but they are never forgotten.
A person carries a mental record of people he or she has helped or
given to in the past, in the knowledge that these are people who may
be called upon should help be needed in the future. Long-term ayni
obligations may even be retained across generations. A child may remind
a person of some service rendered to them by their parents once the
parent has died in the expectation that he or she will receive the
reciprocation. In such cases, parallel transmission or inheritance of
the ayni obligations and rights to return are evident. It is almost
always women who ask for reciprocation which is due their mothers, and
males who reclaim what was owed to their fathers.
Mink'a in Sarata refers to labor which is reimbursed in cash.
The labor may be for a townsperson, it may be occasional labor on a
nearby SAIS, or it may be for a fellow community member. It is not
uncommon in many Sarata communities for a person to request someone to
help them in their fields by asking if they would prefer to work in
ayni or in mink'a. The worker can then decide, depending on whether he
or she is in greater need of cash or return labor at the time.
P"ayna refers to labor expended for one's community. The labor
usually goes toward some type of project from which the community as a

274
whole will theoretically benefit. These projects include school build¬
ings, community centers, sheep baths, the cleaning and repair of irriga¬
tion ditches, the repair of roads, the grading of soccer fields, etc.
Every community member is expected to participate and those who do not
are usually fined a sum of money which is also invested in the project.
These four categories do not exhaust the types of exchange prac¬
ticed by the Aymara of Sarata. There are many more kinds of special
gifts, ritualized acts of giving and highly stylized exchange situations.
The equity or inequity of various exchange arrangements are a favorite
topic of conversation. These four categories are, however, the broad
classes into which most exchanges in Aymara society are classified, and
they are institutionalized and strongly contrasting in their character¬
istics.
The exchange relationships of yanapa, ayni, mink 'a and p"a.yna
are integral parts of Aymara social structure and of Aymara kinship.
Mauricio Mamani has noted that such exchange relationshps are the essence ^
of systems of both alliance and descent in Aymara kinship (1976:45). He
comments: "If we deeply understand the systems of Andean reciprocity, it
is interesting that no one gives gratuitously; no one provides free gifts
for anyone; everything is well paid in different forms and over the short
and long term" (1976:52).
Kinship relations are not exempt from formalized reciprocity.
In fact, such arrangements are most strictly adhered to in the realm of
kinship. The different kin categories described in Chapter Five play
different roles in the everyday give-and-take of Aymara society. They
also play distinct roles in the process of seasonal migration.

275
Figure 6-3 shows how certain exchange relationships are related
to particular types of kin in Aymara society. The darkened symbols
represent those persons with whom ego has most obligations. These are
people who at certain times receive yanapa aid from ego, and whom ego
may not turn down when he or she is asked to exchange labor in ayni.
This group consists of parents, and of grandparents if a close relation¬
ship has been maintained with them; it includes the family of a person's
spouse, to whom one stands in a perpetually subordinate relationship;
and it includes certain types of ritual kin.
A grown child owes his or her parents "free labor" or yanapa
whenever this is requested. In fact, many times the parent may recipro¬
cate with services or goods, but a person should not ask for or demand
this of his or her parents. When a child marries, his or her parents
contribute heavily to the establishment of the household. In return
for these contributions, the new couple owes several days of free
labor to each of their parental households during the first year of their
marriage (Mamani 1976:52). As the young couple establishes itself, and
ideally begins to fulfill its many obligations, its relationships with
their parents become less subservient. Labor may be exchanged between
the households in ayni as well as given in yanapa. If a parent requests
that their son or daughter come to help on a certain day, it is expected
that he or she will comply unless there is a very good reason not to.
As with a person's parents, so with the parents of his or her
spouse, in terms of the rendering of yanapa aid and the acceptance of
ayni exchanges. Because of the indebted status of the tullqa (daughter's

A=0 At-0 AfO
mfTo A 6 Iré A ó
A ó A
nj-rii A» /CAA A CA
£
0=r
AA A
AT ó Co A ó A A
consanguineal kin
alfines A = ®
uj=¿ 1 é
compadres
PO
'vj
cn
Darkened symbols indicate those persons with whom ego has greatest
obligation to eichange labor
Figure 6-3. Kin relationships and labor exchange obligations

277
husband, sister's husband) and the yuqch'a (son's wife, brother's wife)
with regard to the family from which they have taken a spouse, their
obligations may also extend to the siblings, and in particular older
siblings, of their spouses. Yanapa obligations are to the parents only,
and are usually required only during the first few years of the house¬
hold's establishment; but the tullqa or .yuqch'a would be risking arousing
the anger of their in-laws were they to refuse to exchange labor in a.yni
at any time.
The support of matrimonial godparents in money, goods, and time
spent at the wedding is recognized through constant return prestations
throughout the couple's first years, of marriage, through deferent and
respectful behavior and through yanapa services. For the jach'a padrino
and madrina (large godfather and godmother) reciprocation must be prompt
and complete; but for the more intimately known jisk'a padrino and madrina
(small godfather and godmother) the return gifts and labor may be spread
over a longer time and repaid more informally. A request to exchange
services in ayni_ from matrimonial godparents cannot be rejected, although
a "large" godparent, because of their higher social status, is more
likely to ask the persons they have sponsored to work for cash (mink * a)
than in ayni.
A child must work for his or her baptismal godparents or god¬
parents of the first haircutting (rutuchi) when so requested. This labor
is usually yanapa, esepcially when the child is small. Compadres--the
godparents and the parents of the child in question—frequently exchange
labor in ayni and may not turn down each other's request to do so.

278
It should be noted that while the work involved is arduous at
times, these obligations are not perceived as burdens. When such ser¬
vices as yanapa are rendered, it is in recognition that something of
great value has been received. A person takes pleasure in the fact that
they are behaving as a responsible human being and fulfilling their
obligations. There is a sense of completeness and balance (p"uqatawa)
that comes with such transactions which gives almost aesthetic pleasure
to the Aymara participants.
Ayni exchanges are not, of course, limited to parents, in-laws,
and ritual kin, although these are among the classes of kin most fre¬
quently cal 1 ed upon for the purpose. Any member of one's nuclear or
extended family, colaterally or lineally related, may be asked to exchange
ayni labor. The services of older persons may be requested, but always
with special respect and deference. Persons outside of the nuclear and
extended family may also be involved in ayni exchanges. These are almost
without exception members of one's own community or marka.
Because ayni labor is mobilized for specific purposes, and often
under constraints of time, practical considerations enter into the final
decision about who is chosen. The realms of kin and community described
represent the universe of potential ayni partners. For any given event
it is necessary to consider how close the persons live to the place of
work, their qualities as workers, and the amount of free time they are
likely to have available.
The last two types of exchange are less complex in the way they
are distributed among kin groups. P"a,yna is by definition a community¬
wide activity and belongs to that supra-household, supra-familial sphere.

279
Mink'a is most often engaged in with non-relatives, although occasionally
distant collateral relatives may be paid. This situation changes some¬
what in the context of the coffee harvest in the Tambopata Valley,
where, as will be discussed, a person may engage in a wide variety
of relatives to work for pay.
Each adult in an flymara community is surrounded by these networks
of exchange. There are certain people who owe ego unconditional aid,
and certain others to whom ego owes the same. There are people who are
obligated to engage in an exchange when ego asks, and people to whom ego
is equally obligated. There is, furthermore, a group of extended kin
wti.h whom ego is free to engage in exchanges when these are mutually
convenient, and beyond that, the realm of community where the same cri¬
terion of mutual convenience applies.
The importance of these exchanges in an environment of scarcity,
and one in which disastrous climatic conditions are frequent and highly
localized, is obvious. The redistribution of resources they provide
deals effectively with the everyday scheduling problems of producing
in a myriad of microclimates, and of rather short critical periods for
key agropecuarial activities. The exchanges form networks of inter¬
dependency and solidarity with a culture which otherwise highly values
individual effort and achievement. Of most immediate significance to
the adaptation of the human population, they redistribute resources in
such a way that the harshest consequences of scarcity can be avoided.
For the environmental reasons outlined in Chapter Three, all households
are not likely to be equally affected by drought, frost, hail, or even

280
plagues of insects. The assistance provided to those households most
affected, through these exchange relationships, guarantee what might
otherwise be impossible: the survival and reproduction of the affected
sectors of the population.
Exchange relationshps are significant to survival in the alti¬
plano in another way as well. Seasonal migration as we have seen provides
extra-regional subsidies for the growth and reproduction of households
and allows the accumulation of small surpluses which also help them
survive periodic environmental crises. A household could not engage
in migratory activity, however, without the support provided by exchanges
with various classes of kin and with fellow community members.
Such exchanges are important both to the migrating household
members in the Tambopata Valley and to the persons who remain on the
al ti piano. One of the first ways in which they come into play is
through the provision of information about the situation in the valley /â– 
to others on the altiplano. Such information can potentially come from
many channels. Lorenzo and Martin Mayta, for example, made their journey
to the valley based on stories told by a few people Martin had known
in the Bolivian valleys. But the example and detailed information pro¬
vided by a family member or compadre who have had a successful experience
in the valley are an even more powerful incentive. They are one that
young men and women, in particular, find it difficult to resist.
In addition to their provision of information, having a family
member or compadre who migrates to the valley serves as an incentive to
migration in another way. It provides a person to whom a new migrant

281
can attach themselves for the purpose of obtaining training and initial
support. Cultivation in the dense vegetation and on the steep slopes
of the ceja de selva is quite different from cultivation on the a 1ti-
piano, and a person must learn techniques which will be successful
there. Also the new migrant needs support to see him or her through the
period between the planting of his or her first coffee seedlings and the
time that they bear fruit, and thus an income.
Ideally, of course, a person would receive both land and train- /
ing in the valley from their parents. For several reasons, however,
this is not a common pattern in the migration to Tambopata. Although >
the parents of many present-day migrants obtained land in the valley
in the 1950s and 1960s, current techniques of cultivation cause the plots
to lose their fertility quickly. Plots tend to be cleared virtually
completely before planting coffee and although intercropping is prac¬
ticed, the areas under cultivation are weeded at least twice a year.
The result is a serious erosion problem.
Persons who migrate say that an average plot, cultivated by
present techniques, will produce for a maximum of thirty years. Pro¬
duction will begin to drop, even with the addition of chemical fer¬
tilizers, after the first ten to 15 years. For this reason, most plots
are "worn out" before they can be passed on to a person's children,
and the latter are forced to move further down the valley and further
out from the road and main rivers to look for fertile land.
Some parents who own land in Tambopata do try to pass on their
productive knowledge to their children insofar as possible. This can

282
only occur, however, if there is an overlap in their migratory periods.
This was the case, for example, with Mauricio Mayta Condori and his
oldest daughter, Daniela. Many times a parent ceases his or her trips
to the valley before his or her children--particularly his or her
younger children--have begun to migrate. In these cases such knowledge
and training must be obtained elsewhere.
If parents cannot provide these types of services, a new migrant
would prefer to be able to turn to one of their older siblings, to the
siblings of either of his or her parents, or to a godparent or compadre.
In these cases, they will probably be insured a home and food in the
valley for as long as they need it. It is likely in fact that such
close relations would continue to live together for the duration of
their migratory experiences, if it proved possible to obtain lands close
together. The new migrant would be expected to provide labor in return
for such help, at least until their own coffee fields were producing.
In addition to receiving food and shelter, the new migrants
would learn how to clear and burn new land, how to start coffee seedlings
and what to plant around them to protect them and for food. They would
learn to distinguish ripe coffee cherries, damaged vs. undamaged ones,
and various diseases and insect plagues which can affect the coffee.
They would have access to their relative's hulling machine and would be
taught to hull the coffee and to dry it. In addition to the techniques
of coffee production, they would learn certain vital skills for living
in the valley environment: how to distinguish poisonous and non-
poisonous snakes, how to find safe places to swim and bathe in the rivers,

283
and how to cook new kinds of food such as yuca and taro (papa japonesa--
Colocasium esculenta).
Productive knowledge is not all that the migrant needs upon
arrival in the valley. If he or she is staying with a close relation
they can hope to be taken to the coffee cooperative to which members of
their altiplano community belong, where they will be introduced and can
inscribe themselves. They may also be directed to the office of the
Ministry of Agriculture where they can claim their own plot of land.
After helping their relative throughout the dry season, the new migrant
can then expect that this person will reciprocate by helping them to
clear their new plot and to get the coffee seedlings started.
When migration to Tambopata for the purpose of cultivating coffee
was beginning in this century, in the 1940s and 1950s, such aid from
one's nuclear family or close extended family was not nearly as frequent
a possibility as it is today. Martinez (1969) describes the situation
at that time, when land was plentiful, labor was scarce, and people often
set out for the valley without having close connections there. Martinez
described the custom of utawawa (house baby) in which a person could
attach themselves to an established migrant, known or unknown, exchanging
their labor for the services just described. Because plots claimed
were somewhat larger than now, the workers were often given a section
of the original migrant's land to cultivate for themselves after a
period of years.
Because of the great increase in the number of seasonal migrants
in the past 20 to 30 years, a newcomer now is much more likely to find a

284
person well-known to them to help them, even if not a relative. Estab¬
lished migrants are also able to be much more discriminating in whom
they choose to work for them. Family members are best, they often say,
fellow community members are second best, and unknown people will be
relied on only if no one else is available. The poor treatment and hard
times which Nicolás encountered in the valley were a result of the
fact that he did not turn to relatives or fellow community members, but
went to work instead for people he did not know.
At the present time, a distant relative, a community member or an
unknown worker will be given most of the same training as a close family
member. They will probably receive a place to stay and food and probably
a small wage or portion of the harvested coffee. They will most likely
not receive, however, the help in clearing and planting their own plots
that a close relative would. An unknown person, in general, will be
treated with less condifence than anyone else, will be given less
access to tools and household goods and may even receive a smaller
amount of food each day.
When one is migrating for the first time to the valley and must
turn to an affine for assistance, relations can be much more delicate
than any of those previously described. The case of Prospera and
Paulino provides a good example of this. Being already indebted both
structurally and materially to Prospera's brothers, Paulino could hardly
have asked them to feed and house him and help him get established in
the valley. Prospera's presence as a mediator in the valley, and her
willingness to let her husband cultivate her land there, removed Paulino

285
from this otherwise awkward position. Once Paulino was established,
his relationship with his wife's brothers went smoothly and they enjoyed
both working and living together. As might be expected, the reverse
sitaution would not be an awkward one. A wife's brother, particularly
if he were younger, would be welcomed and well provided for by his
tul 1qa (sister's husband) in the valley since this would be one way in
which the tul 1qa could fulfill his obligations to his wife's family.
Everything which has been said so far with regard to the role
of kinship in the migratory process has been presented from the point of
view of a person just beginning the migratory process. The other side of
the issue is the need for labor faced by established migrants. As
previously mentioned, workers whose character and background are known
are preferred, and an established coffee grower will draw on his kin
relationships and community ties to try to recruit people known to be
responsible and hard workers.
If people cannot be found who are enthusiastic about traveling
to the valley for their own ends, growers may call upon people who are
obligated to them in one way or another. A person may try to persuade
his or her sister's husband to migrate and work for him or her, or his
or her younger siblings or godchildren. If this strategy is still un¬
successful, incentives must be offered to less well-known people,such as
a good wage in addition to food and shelter. Initial training and pro¬
visioning are not the only ways in which kin and community members help
one another in Tambopata. One's relations and fellow community members
provide a communications link with the altiplano. To an outsider

286
traveling for the first time into the Tambopata Valley, it appears
isolated and distant from the altiplano. News, messages, and even
gossip, however, travel with amazing rapidity between the two regions.
People from a single community may own plots which are widely
dispersed, but since they all belong to the same cooperative, they
meet frequently at its headquarters. The Sunday market is attended by
all the coffee growers and is a major site for the exchange of informa¬
tion. At both of these places, messages from the altiplano can be passed
on to the coffee growers by people just returning from the highlands and
messages can be sent back with people who will soon be leaving. If a
message to be delivered from the valley is of great urgency, a person
can go to the street from which trucks leave on the journey back to the
highlands and they will almost surely encounter someone from Sarata
to carry it. A message may also be sent to a Juliaca radio station to
be broadcast, in Spanish or Aymara, to one's family. It is difficult
to send word back to Tambopata in this way because radio reception in
the valley is so poor. The surest way to communicate, as the case of
Paulino and Prospera illustrated, is through relatives or fellow commun¬
ity members.
Having kin and community members as fellow migrants serves as
a check on behavior in the valley. It is a means of enforcing altiplano
standards of conduct. While there are stories told by people who do not
migrate about free sexual unions in the valley and men who maintain
two wives and families, these types of activities would be difficult
to manage and are actually quite rare. A man must give a full report on

287
his economic affairs in the valley to his wife upon his return to
the altiplano, and the income spent maintaining a second family would
be hard to account for. Furthermore, under the watchful eyes of kinfolk
and people from one's community there are few activities which could
take place unreported to one's altiplano family. Paulino's brief drink¬
ing bout following his despair at the fall in coffee prices was quickly
reported to Prospera and soon became common knowledge in the community
of Ch'iqa. Consequent pressure from his kin on the altipiano led Paulino
to reform his behavior and return home with what money he had and his
explanation.
Ties of kinship and community also facilitate migration by helping
to maintain levels of production on the altiplano. This, in fact, is
perhaps the most significant role that kinship plays. Migrants who left
for Tambopata in the 1940s and 1950s were unlikely to have extensive
networks of kin there, but they did have relatives on the altiplano, who
assured that production would continue and that there would be a harvest
when they returned.
This assurance is provided through the four major exchange
mechanisms previously described, and most notably thorugh ayni. Although
migration takes place for the most part in the dry season, in many
cases the migrant must leave before the last potatoes are harvested in
May and will not return before the first crops must be planted in August
or September. Ayni fills in for the migrant's labor at these time.
It makes it possible for the remaining household members to carry out
tasks that they could not do alone, at the time that they must be done,
and to provide return services later.

288
A.yni also makes it possible for the migrating household to
complete the major activities of its agropecuaria! cycle in a much
shorter time than would otherwise be possible. One example of how this
can work would be a man who lives near Lake Titicaca who has compadres
in a community in the intermediate zone of Sarata. He can call on these
people to help him with his potato harvest, which will be several weeks
earlier than their own. In addition to being obligated to help, the
compadres will be eager to do so, since a worker in harvest ayni
receives a palla or share of the harvest in addition to return labor.
The opportunity to receive fresh produce after several months of living
on mostly ch'uriu and dried grains is a strong incentive. Once his
harvest is completed, the man from the lakeside zone can go to the valley
to harvest coffee. His wife, and his children if they are old enough,
can return the ayni_ services to their compadres in the intermediate zone
when the harvest there is ready, which is usually after the most urgent
work in the lakeside zone is completed. Alternatively, the man may stay
on the altiplano in order to repay the ayni debts, while the woman of
the household goes to the valley to begin the coffee harvest. The two
may then change places once the agricultural cycle on the altiplano
comes to an end.
Occasionally, a household member who remains on the al ti piano
may find that he or she needs additional labor to complete an agricul¬
tural task, at a time when everyone else is occupied with his or her
own fields. On these occasions a person may need to call on those people
who are not structurally indebted to them, and who are obligated to

289
provide a day of a.yni service when asked, even if this proves incon¬
venient. This is a solution which, if overused, could lead to difficult
relations but it is a way to handle emergencies such as a potato field
that is being invaded by worms or a field of grain which has been struck
by hail and whose product must be recovered from the ground before it
begins to rot.
One of the most significant ways in which kinshp plays a role
in the migration to Tambopata is in maintaining its seasonal nature.
A migrant to the valley who attempted to remain permanently would be
neglecting responsibilities to their family on the al ti piano. This
would not be allowed by their relatives and fellow community members.
A migrant who decided to remain permanently in the valley with¬
out other household members could probably support themselves on their
coffee incomes, especially if they could obtain cash from commerce or
some other occupation when they are not working in the coffee. An
entire household could not, however, as pointed out in Chapter One,
support itself on valley activities alone. There are some few cases
when migration to Tambopata is viewed as permanent and not solely as a
supplement to altiplano subsistence. If a person begins to stay too long
in the valley, there are always relatives and community members who will
remind them where their ultimate responsibilities lie.
The society created by altiplano dwellers in the valley operates
by altiplano rules. The same exchange networks, and the same notions of
fair and appropriate behavior are operative. The language, beliefs, and
values of the altiplano have been transported to the valley environment

290
just as surely as have ch'uriu, kariiwa flour, and the wiri, or highland
foot plow. This is in keeping with historical patterns of exploitation
of lowland regions.
The Tambopata Valley is not conceived of as a foreign environ¬
ment by the inhabitants of Sarata, despite the fact that its "redis¬
covery" for purposes of coffee cultivation is relatively recent. While
Tambopata is somewhat new to most saratenos, the lowland valleys of the
eastern Andes are not. Because of its relative isolation, and because it
was opened up and developed in this century exclusively by the Aymara and
Quechua speakers of the northern altiplano, Tambopata is now considered
only a slightly distant productive zone of the highland region. The
valley and the altiplano are bound by innumerable ties of kinship and
community. This is hardly surprising, however, given that they are not
the home of two separate populations, but of one population incessantly
moving back and forth between them.

CHAPTER SEVEN
CONCLUSIONS
Theoretical Implications
At the present time the people of the district of Sarata migrate
to the Tambopata Valley to grow coffee. They make the trip during the
dry season and during the middle of the growing season on the altiplano
when the labor requirements of highland agriculture are lightest. Income
from coffee is spent for the maintenance and improvement of the altiplano
household, is used to provide for a growing family, and to make up
deficits in subsistence agriculture in years of productive crisis. The
first coffee was grown in the Tambopata Valley in the 1930s, but this
was not the beginning of contact with the eastern Andean valleys for the
people of Sarata. They have held lands and cultivated them in the
Bolivian valleys of Ambana and Larecaja for many hundreds of years, and
they still maintain their ties of trade with this region.
Movement into the Tambopata Valley has been interpreted widely
as a response to population growth and land scarcity on the altiplano.
Most persons who interpret the movement in this way also feel that
seasonal migration to the valley will eventually become permanent, as
population pressure increases. The assumption is that when further
intensification of agriculture on the altiplano becomes impossible,
sarateños and others must leave in search of new lands.
While this process has occurred in other parts of the world, it
is not consistent with Andean patterns of resource exploitation.
291

292
Diversification of landholdings and the insurance of access to products
from a range of vertically organized ecological zones are necessary to
survival in an energy-deficient environment and they have been relied on
at least since the Tihuanacoid expansion more than 1000 years ago.
Altiplano agriculture is indeed intensive, but intensive agriculture has
long been carried out in conjunction with seasonal migration and vertical
resource exploitation in the Andes. Pre-Incaic terraces are found
throughout the northern altiplano on hilltops and in places which are
so difficult to cultivate that no one even attempts to do so today.
Elaborate pre-Incaic terracing systems are also found in the valleys of
the Tambopata and Inambari rivers (Isbell 1968). As previously mentioned,
the 1972 population of Chucuito, across Lake Titicaca from Sarata, was
only approaching its pre-Conquest levels (Sanchez-Albornoz 1974); and
early Spanish documents suggest that Sarata's pre-Conquest population
was of comparable levels (Lizarraga 1968; Toledo 1975).
Yet pre-Conquest populations produced a surplus of agricultural
products which was paid to local officials and was stored for redistri¬
bution in times of famine. Certainly agricultural production was no less
intensive then than now. Increasing population pressure on limited land
resources may make seasonal migration to the Tambopata Valley more
attractive to the people of Sarata today, but current pressures did
not give rise to the pattern and it is unlikely that they will lead
the people of the a 11i piano to take up permanent residence in the
valleys. Diversification and verticality have served sarateños well for
hundreds of years and it is unlikely that they will abandon such

293
well-proven strategies for subsisting in an energy-deficient environ¬
ment.
If it is to be argued that population pressure is not what com¬
pels sarateños to migrate seasonally, then an alternative explanation
must be proposed. It has been demonstrated that energy is a limiting
factor for the growth and reproduction of al ti piano households. Energy
is limiting on the altipi ano because of low levels of primary productiv¬
ity which are caused, in turn, by the low partial pressures of oxygen
and carbon dioxide, cold stress to plants, poor soils, and periodic
droughts, frost, and hailstorms. Energy deficiency is a problem which
could potentially affect the evolutionary history of the altiplano
population. It impinges on survival and reproduction, and only through
energetic subsidies from outside the altiplano are its effects mitigated.
These subsidies are obtained through the cultural strategy of seasonal
migratory movement and, thus, this strategy can be said to be adaptive in
the context of the altiplano environment. It is the long-term, ever¬
present problem of energy scarcity which makes seasonal migration neces¬
sary for the people of Sarata, and not recent problems of parcelization
of land.
Energy availability becomes critical for altiplano households
during peak periods of growth and reproduction, and during periods of
productive crisis. Households most frequently engage in seasonal migra¬
tion during the time when their children are being born and growing up.
They also rely on the surplus produced by migration to see them through
periods of scarcity.

294
Population movement among hunters and gatherers and swidden
agriculturalists has been studied within the framework of human ecology,
but population movement in complex societies has not. Yet seasonal
migration in Sarata, as in many other groups which are at least par¬
tially integrated into national economies, is a response to variability
of resources in the environment, and is a way of moving people to assure
their more efficient utilization of those resources. This was true
when lowland products were cultivated for direct consumption by sarateños,
and it is equally true today, when products are sold for cash. The
migration to Tambopata can only be understood in terms of the whole
range of factors which form the environment in which the people of
Sarata live. These factors include phenomena as diverse as the primary
productivity of their ecosystem and the world market price of coffee.
The framework in which seasonal migration is studied must be holistic
enough to include them all.
Most analyses of human adaptation have taken too narrow a view
of those aspects of culture which play a role in adaptive processes.
It is suggested here that any aspect of a culture can potentially
influence a group's adaptedness, and that only through empirical
methods—the actual observation of adaptive behavior—it is possible
to determine which realms or aspects of a culture are most closely
linked to survival and reproductive success in a given environment.
In the district of Sarata, seasonal migration is organized and
made possible through the structure of kinship and community. Kinship
is often closely related to a group's subsistence or its success in

295
an environment. Lewis Henry Morgan (1870) was one of the first to
make explicit this relationship when he discussed how the shift from a
classificatory to a descriptive kinship terminology was linked to the
need to clarify patterns of land inheritance. Frederik Engels (1972)
attempted to show the changing relationship of kinship and productive
systems over time when he suggested that the emergence of private
property and exploitative class relations was tied to the formation of
the monagamous household unit and the oppression of women in Western
society.
More recent works have also shown the way in which kinship and
production are related. Fred Eggan (1937) described the destruction of
matrilocal residence and female work groups among the Choctaw when this
Native American group was resettled on reservations in the midwestern
United States; and the subsequent development of a bilateral, male-
dominated kinshp structure as men began to assume greater economic
importance as wage laborers. Kathleen Gough (1952) demonstrated how
the introduction of a Western-style market economy to Malabar led to
changes in the matrilineal kinship system of the Mayar. She explained
how a shift toward bilateral kin reckoning became necessary to maintain
structural coherence between the constituent parts of the kinship system,
as well as between the kinship system and the larger social structure,
and the larger social structure and the economic system, as Western
economic institutions were adopted (1952:86).
Murdock (1949) has proposed a general model for the way in
which kinship and economic or ecological factors are related. He

296
suggested that when an environmental change occurs, changes in
resource availability are often implied. This leads to an eventual
change in a group's residence patterns, as they seek to more effectively
distribute people with regard to resources. Over time, changes in
residence may cause changes in the organization of the larger kin group.
Finally, after much time has passed, the terminology of the kinship
system may begin to reflect these structural alterations.
Meillassoux (1972) has also tried to make explicit the ways in
which economic and ecological factors and kinship are tied together. He
has emphasized that kinship determines social form of access to resources,
allocates and organizes a society's labor, forms the basis for determin¬
ing the distribution of products, and serves as the framework for the
reproduction of the society's labor force and for allocating its new
members among different groups.
This clear relationship between kin relations and productive
relations is not, of course, a universal state of affairs. Where the
domestic or kinship unit does not own the means of production to which
its labor is applied, it no longer exercises control over productive
processes. Therefore, access to resources, labor allocation and
distribution of the product are determined by forces external to it.
Where, however, some portion of productive resources are maintained in
the hands of the kin group, kin relations continue to organize economic
activities. Thus, to examine productive activity one must examine the
institutions of kinship and to understand kin relations, one must know
what productive functions they are serving.

297
For the Aymara of Sarata, kinship makes the simultaneous culti¬
vation of valley and highland ecosystems possible. Obligatory exchanges
between affines and between ritual kin, and optionally mobilized exchange
relationshps with blood relatives, provide support for migrants in the
valleys and for those who must continue producing in the highlands.
These relationships also serve redistributive and scheduling functions
which allow households to weather temporary shortages in labor or goods.
A flexible sexual division of labor allows men and women to interchange
tasks with great facility and thus to further promote the elaborate
scheduling of productive activities between the two zones and the main¬
tenance of two separate, but fully functioning, households for five to
six months of the year. If one wishes to study how migration to
Tambopata is organized in Sarata, there is no way to avoid studying the
complex relationships of kin and community which exist there.
There are several other reasons why kinship, and to a lesser
degree community, play such a large role in the organization of produc¬
tion in Sarata, and in particular in the organization of seasonal
migration. This is in part the result of certain historical processes,
and in part stems from the nature of the environmental problems which
seasonal migration is called upon to solve. As previously mentioned,
both the altiplano chiefdoms and the Inca who followed them, colonized
the lowland valleys with highlanders in order to bring these zones into
their productive sphere. The management of the colonies was handled at
the regional political level. Highland officials collected the tribute
of the colonists in valley products, part of which went to insure that

298
storehouses were filled and ready for the years when production fell
below normal.
The regional political management of migration coexisted with
movements organized at another level. While the colonies in the valleys
were permanent in nature, the colonists themselves appear to have
shifted residence at different periods in their lives. Older couples
returned to the altiplano after years of producing in the valleys, leav¬
ing their children to take their place. This assured that young, growing
households would have access to vital valley resources. Furthermore,
non-colonizing households carried out independent trading expeditions
in order to gain access to personal supplies of corn and other products,
and these expeditions were almost certainly organized along kinship
lines then, as they are today.
The Spanish Conquest brought to an abrupt end the regional
political economy of the altiplano and replaced it with a Spanish pat¬
tern. Local officials no longer had their former power, tribute was
channeled into Spanish coffers, and artificial administrative and
political barriers were created which separated the highlands and
valleys. Widespread famine was a result of this disorganization, as the
altiplano population became cut off from their lowland energy subsidies,
as local production became disorganized, and as the redistributive mechan¬
isms that saw the highland peoples through times of productive crisis
disappeared. People struggled to work out new solutions to their sub¬
sistence problems in the context of Spanish rule. Some were not able to
make the adjustment and simply fled to the ceja de selva.

299
Kinship and community were also affected by new Spanish admin¬
istrative institutions, although not to the same extent as native
political organization. Julian Steward (1955) has suggested that a
society may be viewed as having levels of socio-cultural integration,
and that the destruction or disorganization of one level does not always
imply that others will cease to function. Making specific reference to
the Andean case, Steward said that
. . . under the Conquest, Spanish national institutions re¬
placed those of the Inca, but the lower levels of native
culture were not so drastically altered. . . . Modern,
republican Peru is very different from 16th-century colonial
Peru, but a great deal of native community and family culture
has survived in the areas least touched by commercialism.
(1955:59-60)
On the altiplano, the larger and possibly corporate kinship
groups, with their six-generation system disappeared, parallel kinship
structure was altered, and much of the complexity of the system was lost
as the population declined from disease and famine, fled to other regions
to escape the mit'a, or were forcibly relocated in reducciones or the
mines. The a^lljj lost their former significance with the regional
political structure gone, and began the process of splitting into
smaller, more autonomous units.
Nevertheless, kinshp and community were institutions which did
not come into direct conflict with the Spanish administrative pattern,
as did the native political and economic system. They were left free to
be reorganized, if they were not left unchanged. For this reason many
of the functions which had formerly been carried out by political insti¬
tutions were taken over by the kinship system and the newly emerging
version of the community.

300
Since seasonal migration had always been at least partly organ¬
ized along the lines of kinship, it did not take long for strategies
to be worked out which did not require regional administration.
Relationships between intermarrying households, ties of ritual and
consanguineal kinship, and the bond formed between people who came from
a common mark'a became solely responsible for assuring that seasonal
migration continued and that the population survived and grew.
In part this was made easier because of the nature of the prob¬
lems seasonal migration is called upon to solve. As previously discussed,
energy scarcity becomes critical during that stage of a household's
developmental cycle when children are being born and then their growth
is subsidized. Even while migration was organized by regional authori¬
ties, households shifted their residence between the highlands and the
lowlands in order to accommodate these periods of household expansion,
and trading expeditions were engaged in to provide supplementary re¬
sources. It was a natural outgrowth of this former pattern for house¬
holds to organize their own movement to the lowlands, relying on networks
of kin and community members to help them to settle in the valleys, if
migration was temporary in nature; or to maintain production on the
altiplano if it were seasonal. Despite the many changes brought by
Spanish rule, and under the Republic of Peru, kinship and community con¬
tinue to organize the migration to the present day.
Polic.y Implications
The migration of the highland population of the southern Peruvian
altiplano to the valleys of the ceja de selva of the eastern Andes is an

301
autonomous movement developed over many hundreds, perhaps more than
one thousand years. The introduction of coffee into the zone in the
1930s was also an autonomously devised strategy on the part of altiplano
dwellers which led to the selective and partial integration of those
who participated into the national economy. Traditional migratory
strategies were altered to accommodate this new development.
It is the view of the present study that the migration to the
Tambopata Valley will not become permanent. The survival of the alti¬
plano population depends on the exploitation of both highland and lowland
zones. The altiplano is heavily populated and the delicate environment
of the ceja de selva would be unlikely to surive a massive onslaught
of permanent settlers from the region. Furthermore, exploitation of
the two zones gives altiplano dwellers access to both cash and food.
They control their subsistence and supplement it with cash. The fluc¬
tuations they experience in the market price of coffee confirm their
fears of the instability of the cash economy. While their cash pur¬
suits are mainly supplemental they can weather the fluctuations of the
market. Such instability, however, reaffirms their decision not to
become completely dependent on the cash economy, and not to lose control
of their own food supply.
Government policy in the 1960s threatened to deny highlanders
access to valley ecosystems. The 1969 Agrarian Reform Law (Decreto
Ley 17116) and the subsequent Statutes of Peasant Communities made it
technically illegal for community members to own land or to work outside
their own communities. This policy was based on the idea that when

302
additional land vías (sometimes) allotted to officially recognized
peasant communities, migration to other regions or landholding in
other regions becomes unnecessary. This idea rested on the mistaken
assumption that the poverty of all peasant communities was directly
related to the amount of land they controlled. The present study
reveals that the control of more land is not the only goal of highland
people in the Andes, but that the control of different kinds of land in
different places is also a necessary part of their subsistence strategy.
This concept of diversification, which is firmly based in the energetic
realities of life at high altitude, is also a pervasive principle which
manifests itself in the social organization, the art and the aesthetics
of Andean life.
Denying altiplano dwellers or other inhabitants of high-
altitude ecosystems access to energy subsidies which guarantee their
survival in times of productive crisis, and which make possible the
growth and reproduction of the population, would violate the basic
principles which have made life in the Andes possible for many hundreds
of years. As discussed in Chapter Two, the people of the a11i piano
have never developed a genetic adaptation to hypoxia. Such an adaptation
would interfere with their successful exploitation of lowland ecosystems.
The cultural adaptation of seasonal migration, as a response to energy
scarcity, is of such importance and has been so consistently maintained
that the population has retained the flexibility to survive in the
moist, oxygen-rich air of the tropical valleys, as well as in the thin,
cold air of the altiplano. It is not an adaptation to be tampered with
lightly.

303
The policy of the Peruvian government at the present time favors
the development of unexploited regions of the Peruvian selva, and is
currently looking for new and innovative ways to accomplish this goal.
While much is known about ecologically sound ways to develop the flat,
tropical forest lowlands, relatively little is known about the "eyebrow
of the jungle"--the hilly, tropical ceja de selva. Colonization movements
into the region in the past ten to 20 years have consistently been
failures (Martinez 1976).
The experience of altiplano dwellers in the Tambopata Valley
has been a mixed one in terms of its effect on the valley, but one which
holds potential for development of the region. The upper parts of
the Tambopata Valley are badly eroded, as a result of poor soil manage¬
ment techniques. Technicians did not enter the region until this
destruction was largely underway, and it is possible that the inter¬
cropping of coffee with tree crops, the maintenance of a ground cover,
and other measures could help keep erosion under control. Furthermore,
altiplano dwellers are experimenting with a variety of other crops,
such as rice along the river banks, and cacao in the lower parts of the
valley where the landscape becomes less irregular. Highlanders
obviously maintained a productive base in the narrow valleys of Cara-
baya (Tambopata and Inambari) in the past, since the remains of old
terracing systems are found as low as 800 meters. An effective combi¬
nation of traditional Andean soil management techniques and recent
developments in mixed cropping and other cultivation systems which
work well in the selva, could lead to the development of forms of

304
agricultural production which are appropriate to the particularities of
the ceja de selva region.
Continued access to the valleys of the eastern Andes is vital
for saratefios if their population is to survive and reproduce. Their
only alternative should seasonal migration become impossible would be
large-scale migration to the coastal cities which are already over¬
crowded, or the opportunities for a less than legal income provided by
the proximity of the Bolivian border. The Aymara of Sarata, and other
regions like it, are better suited than anyone else to bring the Tambo-
pata Valley under cultivation. Mo group of colonists could match their
knowledge of the region, or their determination to make good use of it.
They have good reason to be so determined, since it is a determination
based on dependence. The altiplano population depends on the region
today, as in the past, for its survival in a harsh environment and
for its survival in a way that maintains its cultural integrity.

APPENDIX ONE
THE AVMARA PHONEMIC ALPHABET
The spelling of all Aymara words used in this paper is in accord¬
ance with the Aymara Phonemic Alphabet developed by Juan de Dios Vapita M.,
Director, Instituto Nacional de Estudios Lingüísticos (National Institute
of Linguistic Studies), La Paz, Bolivia.
Consonants:
p t ch k q
p" t" ch" k" q"
p1 t1 ch1 k' q'
j x
s
1 11
m n ñ
wry
Vowels: i u
a
Vowel lengthening: “ Aspiration: " Glottalization:
q: voiceless post-velar stop
j: pharyngeal or velar fricative
x: post-velar fricative
11,ñ: values comparable to Spanish
305

APPENDIX TWO
NOTES TO TABLE 4-1
Note
1. Solar Radiation
200 kca1/cm2/year solar radiation (Hubbert 1971)
15,482 m2 of land owned by average household in lakeside zone
(200 kcal/cm2/year)(10,000 cm2/m2)(15,482 m2) = 30.964 x 109 kcal/
year
2. Sunlight Not Absorbed
2/3 x total solar radiation per unit area (Ehricke 1976:627)
(2/3)(30.964 x 109 kcal) = 20.643 x 109 kcal/year
3. Absorbed Sunliqht
1/3 x total solar radiation per unit area (Ehricke 1976:627)
(l/3)(30.964 x 109 kcal) = 10.321 x 109 kcal/year
4. Gross Primary Productivity (GPP)
GPP = NPP + respiration/degraded energy + feedback (Odum 1974:65)
GPP = (9.619 x 106 kcal) +’(2.700 x 10® kcal) + (547.47 x 103 kcal)
= 12.865 x 10® kcal/year
5. Feedback to Agricultural Subsystem
Includes seed and detritus of crops and pasture
Total: 547.47 x 10® kcal/year
6. Respiration/Degraded Energy from Agricultural Subsystem
21% of GPP (Whittaker and Likens 1973)
2.700 x 10® kcal/year
7. NPP to Livestock Subsystem
Includes pasture, crop roughage, and forage grains
Total: 5.518 x 10® kcal/year
8. NPP to Human Subsystem
Total: 4.101 x 10® kcal/year
9. Production of High-Quality Energy-Livestock
Production of livestock = exports to other subsystems + feedback
+ respiration/degraded energy + crowding factor reflecting con¬
trolling effects of stress from overgrazing
(551.80 x 103 kcal/year) + (1.4009 x 10® kcal/year) + (60.292
x 103 kcal/year) + (2.050 x 10® kcal/year) + (2.050 x 10® kcal/
year) = 6.1133 x 10® kcal/year
306

307
Note
10. Feedback to Livestock System
Births--assumes 10% of animal biomass
Total: 60.292 x 103 kcal/year
11. Degraded Energy from Livestock Subsystem
1/3 of gross livestock production
Total: 2.050 x 10® kcal/year
12. Livestock Production to Storage for Household
3 sheep and 1 pig destined for household consumption
45 cheeses, 14 pounds wool, 1 cow, 2 sheep, and 1 pig destined
for export
Calculated using Thomas (1972) and Phillips (1977)
Total: 551.8 x 103 kcal/year
13. Feedback of Livestock to Agricultural Subsystem
Dung for fertilization and labor
Calculated using Odend'hal (1971) and Winterhalder, Larsen and
Thomas (1973)
Total: 1.4009 x 10® kcal/year
14. Production_ o_f High-Quality Energy—Human
Production in human subsystem = labor expended in household main¬
tenance + metabolism/degraded energy + exports from household
+ feedbacks to other subsystems
(545.76 x 103 kcal/year) + (11.430 x 106 kcal/year) + (12.959
x 10® kcal/year) +(1.293 x 10® kcal/year) + (233.96 x 103 kcal/year)
+ (146.00 x 103 kcal/year) = 26.608 x 10® kcal/year
15. Labor Expended in Household Maintenance
Observed time spent in various activities x energy expenditure
values for those activities (Thomas 1972)
(45.48 x 103 kcal/month) x (12 months) = 545.76 x 103 kcal/year
16. Metabolism/Degraded Energy from Human Subsystem
Assumed 5% of human .subsystem storage
Total: 11.430 x 10® kcal/year
17. Exports from Human Subsystem ,
Includes 1 cow, 2 sheep, 1 pig, 45 cheeses, $418.00 paid for goods
^Odum and Odum (1976) have suggested that money can be most accurate¬
ly given an energetic value by calculating the energy/money ratio within
the system in question. For a national economy this would be total energy
flow divided by Gross National Product. Because households in the district
of Sarata are not fully integrated into a cash economy, cash has a differ¬
ent value for them than in the nation as a whole. For the household in
question, an individualized ratio would be Total Energy flowing into

308
Note
(food, kerosene, clothing, ritual and festival expenses, travel,
fertilizer, and pesticides)
Total: 18.959 x 10° kcal/year
18.Human Feedback to Production in Agricultural Subsystem
Labor: Observed time in various activities x energy expenditure
values for those activities from Thomas (1972)
Fertilizer: Conversion values from kilograms to kilocalories from
Pluck (1 980:88,93)
Pesticides: Conversion values from gallons to kilocalories from
Fluck ( 1 980:88,93)
Total: 1.293 x 10° kcal/year
19. Human Feedback to Livestock Subsystem
Labor: Observed time spent in various activities x energy expendi¬
ture values for those activities from Thomas (1972)
Total: 233.96 x 103 kcal/year
20. Import Storage to Household Subsystem
Total imports - depreciation
Total: 9.4842 x 10® kcal/year
21.Imports from Outside Household System
Food: 10% of food consumed is obtained by trade or purchase in
the lakeside zone
Pesticides: Conversion factors obtained from Fluck (1980:88,93)
Fertilizer: Conversion factors obtained from Fluck (1980:88,93)
Cash and trade goods received for animals and cheeses
Total: 9.532 x 10® kcal/year
22.FIow from Household Production Storage to Human Subsystem
During years of agricultural surplus, flow is less than (R7 + Rll)
- R22
During years of low productivity, flow is greater than (R7 + Rll)
- R22, thus depleting storage
In a normal year, flow = (R7 + Rll) - R22
Total: 4.635 x 10® kcal/year
23.Depreciation__of_Household Production Storage
Assumes 0.7% depreciation of storage per year
Total: 18.0 x 10J kcal/year
household/total cash handled = R7 + Rll +R20/$475.00 - 14.185 x 10® kcal/
$475.00 s 30,000/1. Thus, we can say that $1.00 (250 - 350 soles in
1980) has an energy value of approximately 30,000 kilocalories.

309
Note
24. Depreciation of Imported Goods
Assumes 2% depreciation of storage per year
Total: 48.20 x 103 kcal/year
25. Livestock Crowding Factor
1/3 of gross livestock production
Total: 2.050 x 106 kcal/year
26. Human Feedback to Harvest and Processing of Agricultural Subsystem
Production
Observed time spent in various activities x energy expenditure
values for those activities from Thomas (1972)
Total: 146.00 x 103 kcal/year
27. Stored Natural Energy
200 kcal/cm2/year solar radiation (Hubbert 1971)
15,482 m2 of cultivated land owned by average household in lakeside
zone
Assumes 6-month storage based on 6-month wet and dry seasons
(200 kcal/cm2/year)(15,482 m2)(10,000 cm2/m2)(0.5 year) = 15.4820
x 109 kcal
28. Agricultural Subsystem Biomass
Crops: Biomass is approximately equal to 2 x yield (Whittaker and
Likens 1973)
Average yield per household = 1.389 x 10^ g dry weight
Approximately 4.25 kcal/g dry weight (Odum 1975:67)
(1.389 x 106 g)(4.25 kcal/g)(2.0) = 11.806 x 106 kcal
Fallow land pasture: 6657.5 m2 in fallow land pasture per house¬
hold per year
400 dry g/m2/year produced (Lieth (1973:313)
(6657.5 m2)(400 g/m2)(4.25 kcal/g) = 11.318 x 106 kcal
Total: (11.806 x 10& kcal) + (11.318 x 106 kcal) = 23.124 x W
kcal
29. Li ves tock Subsystem Storage
Wet weight to dry weight conversion = 0.25 (Whittaker and Likens
1973)
Grams to kilocalories conversion = 5.0 (Odum 1975)
(482.33 x 103 g wet weight of animals) x (0.25 g wet weight/g dry
weight) x (5.0 kcal/g) = 602.92 x 1q3 kcal
Biomass of animals x quality factor;2
(602.92 x 103 kcal)(28) = 16.882 x 10& kcal
O
Animal and human storages embody more than simple biomass. They
contain energy of a higher quality produced by the interaction of higher
and lower quality flows. This difference is included in the model in a

310
Note
30. Human Subsystem Storage
Based on cumulative weight of body tissue for household members
converted to dry weight (x 0.25) and then to calories (x 5.0) and
multiplied by a quality factor of 950.
31. Import Storage
Assumes a 3-month storage of total goods imported to household
Imported goods = R20
(0.25 year)(9.5322 x 10° kcal/year) = 2.4117 x 10° kcal
32.Household Production Storage
Assume 6 months of production stored
Production - Rll + R7
[(4.101 x 106 kcal) + (0.552 x 106 kcal)](0.5) - 2.326 x 106 kcal
quantitative way through the use of quality factors, which reflect the
fact that many years of high-quality flows of energy are necessary to
produce the storage.

APPENDIX THREE
NOTES TO TABLE 4-2
Note
1. Solar Radiation
200 kcaTTcm^Tyear solar radiation (Hubbert 1971)
24,211 m2 of land owned by average household in intermediate zone
(200 kcal/cm2/year)(10,000 cm2/m2)(24,211 m2) = 48.422 x 109 kcal/
year
2- Sunlight Not Absorbed
2/3 x total solar radiation per unit area (Ehricke 1976:627)
(2/3)(48.422 x 109 kcal/year) = 32.281 x 109 kcal/year
3. Absorbed Sunlight
1/3 total solar radiation per unit area (Ehricke 1976:627)
(1/3)(48.422 x 109 kcal/year) = 16.141 x 109 kcal/year
4. Gross Primary Productivity (GPP)
GPP = NPP + respiration/degraded energy + feedback
GPP = (17.554 x 10& kcal/year) + (731.60 x 10^ kcal/year) + (5.8935
x 106 kcal/year) = 24.179 x 10® kcal/year
5. Feedback to Agricultural Subsystem
Includes detritus and seed
Total: 731.600 x 10^ kcal/year
6. Respirati on/Degraded Energy from Agricultural Subsystem
Assumes 24.4% of GPP (Whittaker and Likens 1973)
Total: 5.894 x 10^ kcal/year
7. HPP to Livestock Subsystem
Includes pasture, forage crops and crop roughage
Total: 16.514 x 10*5 kcal/year
8. NPP to Human Subsystem
Total: 1.04 x 106 kcal/year
9. Production of High-Quality Energy-Livestock
Production of livestock = exports to other subsystems + feedback
+ respiration/degraded energy + crowding factor reflecting the
controlling effects of stress from over-grazing
(1.028 x 1Ó6 kcal/year) + (4.269 x 10^ kcal/year) + (239.300
x 103 kcal/year) +(5.790 x 106 kcal/year) + (5.790 x 106 kcal/
year) = 17.117 x 10& kcal/year
311

312
Note
10. Feedback to Livestock Subsystem
Births
Assumes 14? of animal biomass
Total: 239.3 x 103 kcal/year
11. Degraded Energy from Livestock Subsystem
Assumes approximately 1/3 of gross livestock production
Total: 5.790 x 10® kcal/year
12. Livestock Production to Storaqe for Household
6 sheep, 2 cows, 1 pig, 150 cheeses, 35 pounds wool
Energetic values calculated using Thomas(1972) and Phillips (1977)
Total: 1.028 x 10® kcal/year
13. Feedback of Livestock to AqricuItural Subsystem
Dung for fertilizer and labor
Calculated using Odend'hal (1971) and Winterhalder, Larsen, and
Thomas (1973)
Total: 4.269 x 10® kcal/year
14. Production of Hiqh-Quality Enerqy--Human
Production in human subsystems = labor expended in household main¬
tenance + metabolism/degraded energy + exports from household
+ feedbacks to other subsystems
(545.76 x 103 kcal/year) + (12.116 x 10® kcal/year) + (346.90
x 103 kcal/year) + (303.80 x 103 kcal/year) + (38.544 x 103 kcal/
year) + (9.390 x 10® kcal/year) = 22.741 x 10® kcal/year
15. Labor Expended in Household Maintenance
Observed time spent in various activities x energy expenditure
values for those activities from Thomas (1972)
(45.480 x 103 kcal/month)(12 months) = 545.76 x 103 kcal/year
16. Metabol istn/Degraded Energy from Human Subsystem
Assumes 5? of human subsystem storage
Total: 12.116 x 10® kcal/year
17. Exports from Human Subsystern
Includes 2 cows, 18 pounds of wool, 120 cheeses, $313.00 paid for
goods (ritual and festival expenses, food, kerosene, clothing,
travel, pesticides)
Total: 9.39 x 10® kcal/year
18. Human Feedback to Production in Agricultural Subsystem
Labor: Observed time spent in various activities x energy expen¬
diture values for those activities from Thomas (1972)
Pesticides: Conversion factor from gallons to kilocalories from
Fluck (1980:88,93)
Total: 346.90 x 103 kcal/year

313
Note
19. Human Feedback to Livestock Subsystem
Labor: Observed time spent in various activities x energy expen¬
diture values for those activities from Thomas (1972)
Total: 303.80 x 10J kcal/year
20. Import Storage to Household Subsystem
Total imports - depreciation
Total: 15.212 x 10® kcal/year
21. Imports from Outside Household System
Assumes TL of food consumed by household obtained by trade or
purchase in intermediate zone
Pesticides: Conversion factors from Pluck (1980:88,93)
Cash and trade goods received for cheeses, animals, and wool
Total: 15.288 x 10® kcal/year
22. Flow from Household Production Storage to Human Subsystem
During years of agricultural surplus, flow is less than (R7 + Rll)
- R22
During years of low productivity, flow is greater than (R7 + Rll)
- R22, thus depleting storage
In a normal year, flow = (R7 + Rll) - R22
Total: 2.061 x 10® kcal/year
23. Depreciation of Household Production Storage
Assumes 0.7% depreciation of storage per year
Total: 7.0 x 103 kcal/year
24. Depreciation of Imported Goods
Assumes 2% depreciation of storage per year
Total: 76.4 x ID3 kcal/year
25. Livestock Crowding Factor
Assumes approximately 1/3 of gross livestock production
Total: 5.790 x 10® kcal/year
26. Human Feedback to Harvest and Processing of Agricultural Subsystem
Production
Labor: Observed time spent in various activities x energy expen¬
diture values for those activities from Thomas (1972)
Total: 38.544 x 103 kcal/year
27. Stored Natural Energy
200 kcal/cmVyear solar radiation (Hubbert 1971)
24,211 m2 of land owned by average household in intermediate zone
Assumes 6-month storage based on 6-month wet and dry seasons
(200 kcal/cm2/year)(10,000 cm2/m2)(24,211 m2)(0.5 year) = 24.211
x 1q9 kcal

314
Note
28. Agricultural Subsystem Biomass
Crops: Biomass is approximately equal to 2 x yield (Whittaker and
Likens 1973)
Average yield per household = 1.464 x 10® kcal/year
Approximately 4.25 kcal/g dry weight (Odum 1975:67)
(1.464 x 10® g dry weight)(4.25 kcal/g dry weight)(2.0) = 12.441
x 106 kcal
Fallow land pasture: 15,415 m2 in fallow land pasture per house¬
hold per year
400 dry g/m2/year produced (Lieth 1973:313)
(15,415 m2)(400 dry g/m2)(4.25 kcal/dry g) = 26.206 x 106 kcal
Natural Pasture: 2500 m2 in natural pastures per household in
intermediate zone
800 dry g/m¿ produced (Lieth 1973:313)
(2500 m2)(800 dry g/m2)(4.25 kcal/q dry weight) = 8.500 x 10® kcal
(12.441 x 1 OS kcal) + (26.206 x 10® kcal) + (8.500 x 10® kcal)
= 47.147 x 10® kcal
29. Livestock Subsystem Storage
Wet weight conversion = 0.25 (Whittaker and Likens 1973)
Grams to kilocalories conversion = 5.0 (Odum 1975:67)
(1367.3 x 103 g wet weight of animals ) x (0.25 g wet weight/g dry
weight) x (5.0 kcal/g dry weight) = 1.709 x 10® kcal
Biomass of animals x quality factor:
(1.709 x 10® kcal)(28) = 47.885 x 10® kcal
30. Human Subsystem Storage
Based on cumulative weight of body tissue for household members
converted to dry weight (x 0.25) and then to calories (x 5.0) and
multiplied by a quality factor of 950
Total: 242.32 x 10® kcal
31. Household Production Storage
Assumes 6 months of production stored
Production = R7 + Rll
[(1.04 x 10® kcal/year) + (1.028 x 10® kcal/year)](0.5 year)
= 1.034 x 10® kcal
32. Import Storage
Assumes a 3-month storage of total goods imported to household
(0.25 year)(15.283 x 10® kcal/year) = 3.822 x 10® kcal

APPENDIX FOUR
NOTES TO TABLE 4-3
Note
1. Solar Radiation
200 kcal/ciii^/year solar radiation (Hubbert 1971)
70,000 m3 of land owned by average household in herding zone
(200 kcal/cm2/year)(10,000 cm2/m2)(70,000 m2) = 140.000 x 109 kcal/
year
2. Sunlight Not Absorbed
2/3 x total solar radiation per unit area (Ehricke 1976:627)
(2/3)(140.000 x 109 kcal/year) = 93.333 x 109 kcal/year
3. Absorbed Sunlight
1/3 total solar radiation per unit area (Ehricke 1976:627)
(1/3)(140.000 x 109 kcal/year) = 46.667 x 109 kcal/year
4. Gross Primary Productivity JGPP)
GPP = NPP + respiration/degraded energy + feedback (Odum 1975:65)
GPP = (52.658 x 10s kcal/year) + (892.5 x 103 kcal/year) + (35.700
x 10® kcal/year) = 89.250 x 10® kcal/year
5. Feedback to Agricultural Subsystem
Crop detritus
Total: 892.5 x 103 kcal/year
6. Respiration/Degraded Energy from Agricultural Subsystem
40/ of GPP (Whittaker and Likens 1973)
Total: 35.700 x 10® kcal/year
7. NPP to Livestock Subsystem
Natural Pasture
Total: 52.658 x 106 kcal/year
8. Production of High-Quality Energy--Live5tock
Production of livestock = exports to other subsystems + feedback
+ respiration/degraded energy + crowding factor reflecting con¬
trolling effects of stress from over-grazing
(4.557 x 10® kcal/year) + (6.214 x 10® kcal/year) + (1.565 x 10®
kcal/year) + (53.036 x 10® kcal/year) + (53.036 x 10® kcal/year)
= 118.410 x 10® kcal/year
315

316
Note
9.Feedback to Livestock Subsystem
Births
Assumes 10" of animal biomass
Total: 1.565 x 10^ kcal/year
10. Degraded Energy from Livestock Subs.ystjm
Assumes 44.8% of gross livestock production
Total: 53.036 x Í0& kcal/year
11. Livestock Production to Storage for Household
Dung for fuel, 15 sheep, 13 cows, 1 abot^THamas carrying products
on trading trips), 133 pounds of wool, 150 cheeses
Kilocalorie equivalents calculated using Odend'hal (1971) and
Thomas (1972)
Total: 4.557 x 10“ kcal/year
12. Feedback of Livestock to Agricultural Subsystem
Dung to fertilize pasture
Kilocalorie equivalents calculated using Winterhalder, Larsen,
and Thomas (1973)
Total: 6.214 x 10*“ kcal/year
1 3. Production of High-Quality Energy-Human
Production in human subsystem = labor expended in household main¬
tenance + metabolism/degraded energy + exports from household
+ feedbacks to other subsystems
(666.40 x 103 kcal/year) + (13.986 x 10“ kcal/year) + (70.698 x 10^
kcal/year) + (1.138 x 106 kcal/year) = 86.488 x 10° kcal/year
14. Labor Expended in Household Maintenance
Observed time spent in various activities x energy expenditure
values for those activities from Thomas (1972)
(55.536 x 10“ kcal/month)(12 months) = 666.40 x 10“ kcal/year
1 5. Metabolisin/Deqraded Energy from Human Subsystem
Assumes approximately 5" of human subsystem storage
Total: 13.986 x 106 kcal/year
16. Exports from Human Subsystem
Includes 12 cows, 118 pounds of wool, 130 cheeses, $2244.00 spent
for goods (food, ritual, and festival expenses, clothing, travel,
veterinary supplies)
Total: 70.698 x 10° kcal/year
17. Hu man Feed back to Livestock Subs.y s_tem
Labor: Observed time spent in various activities x energy expen¬
diture values for those activities from Thomas (1972)
Veterinary supplies: used dollar value converted to kilocalories
Total: 1.138 x 10^ kcal/year

317
Mote
18. Import Storag eyHuiraSubsystem (non- food products)
1/2 of (total imports - depreciation)
Total: 40.672 x 10° kcal/year
19. Imports from Outside Household System
84" of food consumed by household is obtained through trade or
purchase in herding zone
Veterinary supplies purchased
Cash and trade goods received for animals, cheeses, and wool
Total: 81.699 x 10*> kcal/year
20. Flow from Household Storage to Human Subsystem
Livestock production + 1/2 of imports "(which are consumed directly)
- degraded energy
Total: 44.910 x 10^ kcal/year
21. Oepreciation_ from Household Production Storage
Assumes 0.6” depreciation of goods flowing through storage to
human subsystem per year
Total: 316.00 x 10° kcal/year
22. Depreciation of Imported Goods
Assumes 2% depreciation of storage per year
Total: 355.40 x 102 kcal/year
23. Livestock Crowding Factor
Assumes 44.8/ of gross livestock production
Total: 53.036 x 10^ kcal/year
24. Import Storage to Household Storage (food products)
1/2 (total imports - depreciation)
Total: 40.672 x 106 kcal/year
25. Stored Matura! Energy
200 kcal/cm2/year solar radiation (Hubbert 1971)
70,000 m2 of land controlled by households in herding zone
Assumes 6-month storage based on 6-month wet and dry seasons
(200 kcal/crn2/year) (10,000 cm2/m)(70,000 m2) (0.5 year) = 70.000
x 109 kcal
26. Agricultural Subsystem Biornass
Natural Pasture: 70,000 of land in herding zone in natural
pasture
600 dry g/m2 per year produced (Lieth 1973:313)
(70,000 m2)(600 g/m2)(4.25 kcal/g) = 178.5 x 106 kcal

318
Mote
27. Livestock Subsystem Storage
Wet weight conversion = 0.25 (Whittaker and Likens 1973)
Grams to kilocalories conversion = 5.0 (Odum 1975:67)
(12.523 x 106 q wet weight of animals ) x (0.25 g wet weight/g
dry weight) x (5.0 kcal/g dry weight) = 15.654 x 10° kcal
Biomass of animals x quality factor:
(15.654 x 106 kcal) x (28) = 438.31 kcal
28. Hu man Subsystem Storage
Based on the cumulative weight of body tissue for household members
converted to dry weight (x 0.25) and then to calories (x 5.0)
and multiplied by a quality factor of 950
Total: 274.32 x 106 kcal
29. Household Storage
Assumes 6 months production stored
Production = Rll
(4.557 x 10° kcal/year)(0.5 year) = 2.278 x 10° kcal
30. Import Storage
Assumes a 2.6-month storage of total goods imported to household
(0.217 year)(81.699 x 106 kcal) = 17.769 x 10° kcal

APPENDIX FIVE
DYNAMO PROGRAM FOR MODEL OF LAKESIDE ZONE
(ALL VALUES x 106 KCAL)
*LAKESIDE ZONE
*
‘NATURAL ENERGY
L N. K=N. J+DT*(RO. JK-R1 .JK-R2.JK)
N N=NI
C N1=15.4820E3
R RO.KL=KO.K*N.K
A KO.K=FO/NI
C F0=30.9640E3
R R1 . KL=K1 . K*N. K
A K1.K=F1/NI
C FI=20.6430E3
R R2.KL=K2.K*N.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K2.K=F2/(NI*AI*LI*HI)
C F2=l0.321E3
‘AGRICULTURAL SYSTEM
L A.K=A.J+DT*(R3.JK-R4.JK-R5.JK-R6.JK-R7.JK)
N A=AI
C AI=23.124
R R3.KL=K3.K*N.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K3.K=F3/(NI*AI*LI*HI)
C F3=l2.865
R R4.KL=K4.K*N.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K4.K=F4/(NI*AI*LI*HI)
C F4=.547
R R5.KL=K5.K*A.K
A K5.K=F5/AI
C F5=2.700
R R6.KL=K6.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K6.K=F6/(AI*LI*HI)
C F6= 5.518
R R7.KL=K7.K*A.K*H.K
A K7.K=F7/(AI*HI)
C F 7=4.101
‘LIVESTOCK SYSTEM
L L.K=L.J+DT*(R8.JK-R9.JK-R10.JK-R11 .JK-Rl 2.JK-R24.JK)
N L=LI
C LI=16.882
R R8.KL=K8.K*A.K*L.K‘H. K
A K8.K=F8/(AI*LI*HI)
319

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320

321
R R23.KL=K23.K*I.K
A K23.K=F23/II
C F23=.048
R R25KL=K25.K*H.K*A.K
A K25.K=F25/(HI*AI)
C F25=.146
L I.K=I.J+DT*(R20.JK-R19.JK-R23.JK)
N I = II
C 11=2.412
L F.K=F.J+DT*(R7.JK+R11 .JK-R21 .JK-R.22.JK)
N F=FI
C FI = 2.326
PRINT N,A,L,F,H,I
PRINT R0,R1,R2,R3,R4,R5,R6,R7,R8,R9,R10,R11,R12,R13,R14,R15,R16
PRINT R17,R18,R19,R20,R21,R22,R23,R24,R25
PLOT F=F,1=1(0,4)/L=L,A=A,R20=J(0,30)/N=N(0,30000)/H=H(0,300)
SPEC LEMGTH=20/DT=.01/PRTPER=2/PLTPER=.1
RUN

APPENDIX SIX
DYNAMO PROGRAM FOR MODEL OF INTERMEDIATE ZONE
(ALL VALUES x 106 KCAL)
INTERMEDIATE ZONE
*
*NATURAL ENERGY
L N.K=N.J+DT*(RO.JK-R1.JK-R2. JK)
N N=NI
C NI=24.211E3
R RO.KL=KO.K*N.K
A KO.K= FO/NI
C F0=48.422E3
R R1.KL=K1.K*N.K
A KT.K=F1/NI
C FI=32.281E3
R R2.KL=K2.K*N.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K2.K=F2/(NI*AI*LI*HI)
C F2=T 6.141E3
*AGRICULTURAL SYSTEM
L A.K=A.J+DT*(R3.JK-R4.JK-R5.JK-R6.JK-R7.JK)
N A=AI
C AI=4 7.147
R R3.KL=K3.K*N.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K3.K=F3/(NI*AI*LI*HI)
C F3=24.179
R R4.KL=K4.K*N.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K4.K=F4/(NI*AI*LI*HI)
C F4=.732
R R5.KL = K5.K*A. K
A K5.K=F5/AI
C F 5= 5.894
R R6.KL=K6.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K6.K=F6/(AI*LI*HI)
C F6=16.514
R R7.KL=K7.K*A.K*H.K
A K7.K=F7/(AI*HI)
C F 7=1.040
LIVESTOCK SYSTEM
L L. K=L. J+DT*( R8. JK-R9. JK-R10. JK-R11. JK-R12. JK-R24. JK)
N L=LI
C LI=47.855
R R8.KL= K8.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K8.K=F8/(AI*LI*HI)
322

323
C F8--17.117
R R9.KL=K9.K*A.K*H.K*L.K
A K9.K=F9/(AI*HI*LI)
C F9=.239
R R10.KL=K10.K*L.K
A K10. K=F10/LI
C FI 0=5.790
R R11.KL=K11.K*L.K
A K11.K=F11/LI
C FI 1 = 1.028
R R12.KL=K12.K*N.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K12.K=F12/(NI*AI*LI*HI)
C FI 2=4.269
R R24.Kl=K24.K*L.K*L.K
A K24.K=F24/(LI*LI)
C F24=5.790
*HUMAN SYSTEM
L H.K=H. J+DT*(R13. JK-R14. JK-R15. JK-R16. JK-R17. JK-R18. JK-R25. JK)
N H=HI
C HI=242.32
R R13.KL=K13.K*H.K*I.K*F.K
A K13.K=F13/(HI*LI*FI)
C FI 3=22.741
R R14.KL=K14.K*H.K*I.K*F.K
A K14.K=F14/(HI*II*FI)
C FT 4=. 546
R R15KL=KT5.K*H.K
A K15.K= FI 5/HI
C FI 5=12.116
R R16.KL=K16.K*H.K
A K16.K= F1 6/HI
C FI 6=9.390
R R17.KL=K17.K*N.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K17.K=F17/(NI*AI*LI*HI)
C FI 7=. 347
R R18.KL=K18.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K18.K=F18/(AI*LI*HI)
C FI 8=. 304
R R19.KL=KT9.K*H.K*I.K*F.K
A K19.K=FT9/(HI*LI*FI)
C FI 9=1 5.212
R R20.KL=K20.K*H.K
A K20.K=F20.K*H.K
C F20=l 5.288
R R21 . KL=K21 . K*H. 1C*I. K*F. K
A K21.K=F21/(HI*II*FI)
C F21=2.061
R R22.KL=K22.K*F.K
A K22.K=F22/FI
C F22=.007

324
R R23.KL=K23.K*I.K
A K23.K=F23/II
C F23=.076
R R25.KL=K25.K*A.K*H.K
A K25.K=F25/(AI*HI)
C F25=.039
L I.K=I.J+DT*(R20.JK-R19.JK-R23.JK)
N 1=11
C 11=3.822
L F.K=F.J+DT*(R7.JK+R11.JK-R21.JK-R22.JK)
N F=FI
C FI=1.034
PRINT N,A,L,F,H,I
PRINT R0,R1 ,R2,R3,R4,R5,R6,R7,R8,R9,R10,RI1,R12,R13,R14,R15,R16
PRINT R17,R18,R19,R20,R21,R22,R23,R24,R25
PLOT F=F,1=1(0,20)/L=L,A=A(0,1000)/N=N(0,50000)/H=HI(0,500)
SPEC LENGTH=20/DT=.01/PRTPER=2/PLTPER=.l
RUN

APPENDIX SEVEN
DYNAMO PROGRAM FOR MODEL OF HERDING ZONE
(ALL VALUES x 106 KCAL)
♦HERDING ZONE
★
♦NATURAL ZONE
L N.K=N.J+DT*(RO.JK-Rl. JK-R2.JK)
N N=NI
C NI=ZO.000E3
R RO.KL=KO.K*N.K
A KO.K=FO/NI
C FO=l40.OOOE3
R R1.KL=K1.K*N.K
A K1.K=F1/NI
C FI=93.333E3
R R2.KL=K2.K*N.K*A.K*L.K
A K2.K=F2/(NI*AI*LI)
C F2=46.667E3
♦AGRICULTURAL SYSTEM
L A.K=A.J+DT*(R3.JK-R4.JK-R5.JK-R6. JK)
N A=AI
C AI=178.5
R R3.KL=K3.K*N.K*A.K*L.K
A K3.K=F3/(NI*AI*LI)
C F3 =89.250
R R4. KL=K4. K*N. '<* A. K. L. K
A K4.K=F4/(NI*AI*LI)
C F4=.8925
R R5.KL=K5.K*A.K
A K5.K=F5/AI
C F5=35.700
R R6.KL=K6.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K6.K=F6/(AI*LI*HI)
C F6=52.658
♦LIVESTOCK SYSTEM
L L. K=L. J+DT*(R8. JK-R9. JK-R10. JK-R11 . JK-R12. JK-R24. JK)
N L=LI
C LI=438.31
R R8.KL=K8.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K8.K=F8/(AI*LI*HI)
C F8=l18.410
R R9.KL=K9.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K9.K=F9/(AI*LI*HI)
325

326
C F9=l.565
R R10.KL=K10.K*L.K
A K10. K=F10/LI
C F10=53.036
R RH .KL=K11 .K*L.K
A K11. K=F11 /LI
C FI 1=4.557
R R12.KL=K12.K*N.K*A.K*L.K
A K12.K=F12/(NI*AI*LI)
C FI 2=6.214
R R24.KL=K24.K*L.K*L.K
A K24.K=F24/(LI*LI)
C F24-53.036
‘HUMAN SYSTEM
L H.K=H.J+DT*(R13.JK-R14.JK-R15.JK-R16.JK-R18.JK)
N H=HI
C HI=274.32
R R13.KL=K13.K*H.K*I.K*F.K
A K13.K=F13/(HI*II*FI)
C FI 3=86.488
R R14.KL=K14.K*H.K*I. K*F. K
A Kl4.K=F14/(HI*II*FI)
C FI 4=.666
R R15.KL=K15.K*H.K
A Kl 5. K=F1 5/HI
C FI 5=13.986
R R16.KL=K16.K*H.K
A Kl6.K=F16/HI
C FI 6=70.698
R R18.KL=K18.K*A.K*L.K*H.K
A K18.K=F18/(AI*HI*LI)
C FI 8=1.138
R R19.KL=K10.K *I.K*H.K*F.K
A K19.K=F19/(II*HI*FI)
C FI 9=40.672
R R20.KL=K20*H.K
A K20.K=F20/HI
C F20=81.699
R R21.KL=K21.K*H.K*I.K*F.K
A K21.K=F21/(HI*II*FI)
C F21=44.907
R R22.KL = K22.K*F. K
A K22. K=F22/F1
C F22=.316
R R23.KL=K23.K*I.K
A K23. K=F23/U
C F23=.355
L I,K=I.J+DT*(R20.JK-R19.JK-R26.JK-R23.JK)

327
N I = II
C 11=17.769
L F.K=F.J+DT*(R11. JK+R26. JK-R21 .JK-R22.JK)
N F=FI
C FI=2.2 784
R R30.KL=K30.K*I.K
A K30.K=F30/11
C F3O40.672
PRINT N,A,L,F,H,I
PRINT R0,R1 ,R2,R3,R4,R5,R6,R7,R8,R9,R10,R11,R12,R13,R14,R15,R16
PRINT R18,R19,R20,R21,R22,R23,R24 ,R30
PLOT F=F,1=I(0,20)/L=L,A=A(0,1000)/N=N(0,50000)/H=H(0,500)
SPEC LENGTH=20/DT=.01/PRTPER=2/PLTPER=.1
RUN

REFERENCES
Abel son, Andrew E.
1976 Altitude and Fertility. jn_ Anthropological Studies of Human
Fertility. Bernice Kaplan, ed. Pp. 83-92. Detroit: Wayne State
University Press.
Abu-Lughod, Janet
1975 Comments: The End of Innocence in Migration Theory. Iri Migra¬
tion and Urbanization: Models and Adaptive Strategies. B. M. DuToit
and H. I. Safa, eds. Pp. 201-208. The Hague: Mouton.
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Special Publication No. 7.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
Jane Collins was born in Alexandria, Virginia, in 1954. She
received a B.A. in anthropology in 1976 and began a master's degree in
Latin American studies at the University of Florida a year later. After
completing her master's thesis on the effect of the Peruvian agrarian
reform of 1969 on recognized peasant communities, she began the doctoral
progam in anthropology at the University of Florida. She carried out
research in Latin America on two occasions prior to her doctoral research.
Her principal areas of interest are human ecology, kinship, and anthro¬
pological linguistics.
346

I certify that I have read this study and that in my opinion it
conforms to acceptable standards of scholarly presentation and is fully
adequate, in scope and quality, as a dissertation for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy.
1
4/fa.e, tix,
1
Charles Wagley, Chainlian ]
Graduate Research Professo
r of Anthropology
I certify that I have read this study and that in my opinion it
conforms to acceptable standards of scholarly presentation and is fully
I certify that I have read this study and that in my opinion it
conforms to acceptable standards of scholarly presentation and is fully
adequate, in scope and quality, as a dissertation for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy.
V\
CP^L i
oSLZS
Maxine Margolis
Associate Professor of Anthropology

I certify that I have read this study and that in my opinion it
conforms to acceptable standards of scholarly presentation and is fully
adequate, in scope and quality, as a dissertation for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy.
//
r
nthon
Assoc
01iver-Smith
e Professor of Anthropology
I certify that I have read this study and that in my opinion it
conforms to acceptable standards of scholarly presentation and is fully
adequate, in scope and quality, as a dissertation for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy.
n Alexander
Professor of Urban and R
This dissertation was submitted to the Graduate Faculty of the Department
of Anthropology in the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences and to the
Graduate Council, and was accepted as partial fulfillment of the require¬
ments for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy.
December 1981
Dean for Graduate Studies and Research

SBllí®*
3 1262 08666 291 2




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KINSHIP AND SEASONAL MIGRATION AMONG THE AYMARA OF SOUTHERN PERU: HUMAN ADAPTATION TO ENERGY SCARCITY By JANE LOU COLLINS A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE COUNCIL OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY IIVERSITY OF FLORIDA 1981

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Copyright 1981 by Jane Lou Collins

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To my parents Annabelle June Collins and Robert Harris Collins

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Many people have helped me in the various stages of the project preparation, field research, and the writing of this work. Funding for the period of field research was provided by an Inter-American Foundation Learning Fellowship for Social Change. Three months of support for writeup was also provided by Inter-American Foundation. Faculty and staff of the Universidad Nacional Tecnica del Altiplano (National Technical University of the Altiplano) in Puno, Peru, gave institutional support to this project in Peru. Their letters to government agencies and local officials, their lively interest in the research, and their suggestions and orientations were greatly appreciated. In particular, Professor Vfctor Bustinza, Director of Research, and Professors Oscar Chaquilla, Eleodoro Chahuares, and Rodolfo Machicao contributed greatly to the success of my field experience. Professor Machicao provided invaluable introductions to persons in the area of field research and v^;as kind enough to open his home there to my husband and myself during our stay. Four Peruvian research assistants aided in the gathering of data. John Wilfredo Apaza, a former student of agronomy at the UNTA, spent a great deal of time visiting communities of Sarata with my husband and myself and helped in the gathering of production data for the region. His untimely death in 1980 saddened us deeply and deprived Peru of a very bright, capable, and enthusiastic young scholar. Juan Lira Condori , iv

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a student of sociology at the Universidad Nacional de San Agusttn (National University of St. Augustine) in Arequipa helped greatly in the gathering of data on consumption and meal patterns, and through discussions of his own research I learned a great deal about the history of the haciendas and the present-day SAIS (Sociedad Agrfcola de Interes Social--Agrarian Social Interest Society) in the eastern part of the district of Sarata. Eva Mercado Vargas helped to transcribe some very difficult parts of festivals and to translate them from Aymara to Spanish, as did Yolanda Lopez Callo. Ms. Lopez was also extremely helpful in orienting me to the district and to her own home community. She is currently working as an instructor of the Aymara language at the University of Florida. Professors Alejandro Camino, Carlos Aramburu of the Pontificia Universidad Catolica, and Hector Martfnez of the Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos provided assistance and suggestions in Lima. Correspondence with Professor Thierry Saignes helped me clear up important questions about the history of the northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca. The companionship and suggestions of North American researchers Peter White, Benjamin Orlove, Katherine Julien, Phil Blair, and Lucy Briggs were greatly appreciated. In the district of Sarata innumerable persons made an effort to integrate my husband and myself into their fiestas, their exchange networks, and many other aspects of their lives, and made our stay a fulfilling personal experience as well as a successful period of research. In particular, the support of Lucio Ticona Col Iquehuanca, Gregoria Sarabia,

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Lucia Lopez de Lima, Abdon Ticona Mamani , Juan Ticona Colquehuanca, Santiago Calli Apaza, and Javier Mamani Mamani must be acknowledged. The Hermanas de San Jose in Sarata and Father Domingo Llanque in Juli also provided much hospitality and good advice. I am grateful to the members of my doctoral committee: Professors Charles Wagley, f1. J. Hardman, Anthony Oliver-Smith, Maxine Margolis, and John Alexander for their advice and support. I am especially grateful to Doctor M. J. Hardman for first awakening my interest in the Aymara language and people and for providing me with much of the training in field methods upon which my research relied. Doctor Charles Wagley provided guidance, encouragement and support throughout all stages of my research without which the realization of this work would have been much more difficult. Finally, I would like to thank my husband, Michael Painter, whose doctoral research in Peru was carried out at the same time as my own. His continual encouragement, excellent advice, and good humor throughout our graduate studies and research have not only made this work possible, but made it a truly enjoyable time in our lives. VI

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TABLE OF CONTENTS Page ACKNOWLEDGMENTS iv ABSTRACT ix CHAPTER ONE SEASONAL MIGRATION IN AN ANDEAN CONTEXT: DESCRIPTION AND HISTORY 1 Introduction 1 Highland Aymara in the Tropical Forest 9 Land Tenure, Energy Deficiency, and Seasonal Migration 17 Historical Contact with the Ceja de Selva 23 The Pre-Hispanic Roots 23 The Search for Gold and the Escape from Forced Labor 28 Missions, Quinine, and Rubber 31 The Twentieth Century 35 The Altiplano Setting 39 The political environment 39 Social stratification 47 Language and ethnicity 48 TWO SEASONAL MIGRATION AND HUMAN ADAPTATION: THEORETICAL ISSUES 51 Human Adaptation 51 Introduction 51 Genetic and Physiological Adaptation 52 Natural selection 52 Acclimatization 54 Cultural Adaptation 55 The evolution of a capacity for culture .... 55 The identification of cultural adaptations 58 The functioning of cultural adaptations .... 62 Adaptation on the Southern Peruvian Altiplano ... 67 Stresses and responses 67 Seasonal migration and adaptation to high altitude 71 vi1

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CHAPTER Page The Role of Energy in Human Adaptation 73 Energy in natural selection 73 Energy as a limiting factor 76 Population Movement and Human Adaptation 77 Adaptive Movement in Complex Societies 77 Temporary Migration 80 Seasonal Migration 82 THREE THE ALTIPLANO RESOURCE BASE AND PATTERNS OF SUBSISTENCE 87 Primary Productivity and Production 87 Geographical and Climatic Factors 87 Natural Life Zones 93 The lakeside zone 96 The intermediate zone 106 The herding zone 109 Productivity of the Zones 112 Consumption 118 Preservation of Foods 118 Food Sources and Exchange 119 Meal Composition and Patterns 122 Seasonal Variation in the Diet 126 Food Beliefs 130 Evaluation of the Altiplano Diet 131 Food Distribution within the Household 138 Energy Expenditure 139 The Division of Labor 139 Exchanges of Labor 146 Annual and Regional Variation in Energy Expenditure 148 A Summary of Subsistence in Sarata 150 FOUR SEASONAL MIGRATION AND ENERGY DEFICIENCY 160 Introduction 160 The Flow of Energy through Altiplano Households .... 163 Description 163 Analysis 182 Reproduction, Crisis Survival, and the Role of Seasonal Migration 196 FIVE THE CULTURAL FRAMEWORK FOR MIGRATORY ACTIVITY: AYMARA KINSHIP AND COMMUNITY 201 The Role of Kinship 201 Descent and the Structure of Consanguineal Kinship 203 vm

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CHAPTER Page The Nuclear Family Household 222 Marriage and Affines 228 Compadrazgo 239 The Community and the Marka 245 SIX KINSHIP AND COMMUNITY IN THE MIGRATORY PROCESS 249 Experiences of Kinship and Migration in One Sarata Community 249 Mauricio Mayta Condori and Justina Condori Apaza 251 Prospera Chaiiia Molli and Paulino Mayta Paxsi 254 Nicolas Mayta Paxsi and Feleca Paxsi Ticona 257 Daniel a Mayta Condori 259 Santiago Mayta Mamani 259 Migration and the Development Cycle of the Household 260 The Household in Historical Patterns of Migration ... 266 The Kinship Support System 271 SEVEN CONCLUSIONS 291 Theoretical Implications 291 Policy Implications 300 APPENDIX ONE THE AYMARA PHONEMIC ALPHABET 305 TWO NOTES TO TABLE 4-1 306 THREE NOTES TO TABLE 4-2 311 FOUR NOTES TO TABLE 4-3 315 FIVE DYNAMO PROGRAM FOR MODEL OF LAKESIDE ZONE (ALL VALUES x lO'^ KCAL) 319 SIX DYNAMO PROGRAM FOR MODEL OF INTERMEDIATE ZONE (ALL VALUES x 10^ KCAL) 322 SEVEN DYNAMO PROGRAM FOR MODEL OF HERDING ZONE (ALL VALUES x 106 KCAL) 325 REFERENCES 328 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 346

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Abstract of Dissertation Presented to the Graduate Council of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy KINSHIP AND SEASONAL MIGRATION AMONG THE AYMARA OF SOUTHERN PERU: HUMAN ADAPTATION TO ENERGY SCARCITY By Jane Lou Collins December 1981 Chairman: Charles Wagley Major Department: Anthropology The people of the southern Peruvian highlands have adapted to a condition of energy scarcity through seasonal migration to lowland areas. In the district of Sarata (a fictitious name for a real district on the northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca) people spend three to seven months of every year growing coffee in the Tambopata Valley of the eastern Andes. This migratory pattern, which is hundreds of years old, provides the context for an investigation of human adaptive processes. The present study presents models of the flow of energy through high-altitude households and shows that energy is a limiting factor for the population. There are two periods when energy subsidies from lowland regions become crucial to the continued survival of highland households. These are the periods of peak growth and reproduction experienced by households early in their developmental cycles, and times of sharply lowered productivity caused by environmental crises such as drought or

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killing frosts. Seasonal migration provides the subsidies which households rely on during these periods. Seasonal migration in Sarata is organized primarily through the structure of kin relationships. Exchanges of labor and goods between consanguineal , affinal, and ritual kin make coordinated production in two widely separated zones possible. The information, initial support, and productive knowledge required in the migratory effort are also transmitted along kinship lines. Prior to the Spanish Conquest, political institutions as well as kinship served to organize the exploitation of lowland ecosystems. When regional political organizations were broken down and replaced by Spanish institutions, kinship structure and to a certain extent community relationships became entirely responsible for maintaining seasonal migration as a strategy. Seasonal exploitation of lowland ecosystems is shown to be vital to the survival of the population of the district of Sarata because of the energy subsidies it provides. This fact must be kept in mind when development efforts for the region are designed. The migration of the people of Sarata to the Tambopata Valley also provides a potential model for the exploitation of the eastern slopes of the Andes, a region which Peru is eager to bring into production and where most previous development efforts have been unsuccessful. XI

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CHAPTER ONE SEASONAL MIGRATION IN AN ANDEAN CONTEXT: DESCRIPTION AND HISTORY Introduction Every year approximately one-third of the households in the Aymaraspeaking district of Sarata leave the altiplano for three to seven months to tend their coffee fields in the Tambopata Valley. The valley lies just 130 kilometers north of the district "as the crow flies" (see Figure 1-1), but the road which crosses the snowcapped eastern range of the Andes and winds down into the valley covers 360 kilometers in its journey. The steep slopes of the valley are covered with the dense vegetation of the tropical rain forest. The valley is part of that ecosystem known to Peruvians as the cej_a_ de se1va-"the eyebrow of the jungle"; or as la mural la v erde --"the green wall." Tambopata contrasts sharply with the homeland of the seasonal migrants. The district of Sarata lies on the northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca, running from the edge of the lake north toward the eastern Andean range. The district is considered the most temperate part of the altiplano , having milder temperatures and more rainfall than is generally the case. During the six months of the growing season rain falls nearly every day, pastures are green, and in the zones near the lake, potatoes, barley, guinoa , beans, and other crops are produced. For at least six months of every year, however, the rains cease, ^Sarata is a fictitious name for the district where field research was carried out.

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Figure 1-1. Location of Sarata in Peru

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and the landscape becomes grey-brown and dusty, vnth the basic color scheme broken only by the brilliant blue of the lake and sky and the green of a few irrigated bean plots. Oxygen and carbon dioxide are limited at the altitude of the al tiplano , which is 3812 meters, or approximately 12,500 feet. This fact, combined with low temperatures, nighttime frosts, frequent hailstorms, and periodic droughts, contributes to low levels of primary productivity in the al tiplano environment. The agriculturalists and herders of ttie region receive a low return on the energy they invest in production. Thomas (1972, 1976) has suggested that energy is seriously deficient in the al tiplano environment, and that the inhabitants of the altiplano have developed behavioral strategies for dealing with this problem. Migratory activity has been specifically suggested as one such strategy. Some researchers feel, however, that a precise definition and demonstration of energy deficiency is necessary before claims of adaptation can be made (Smith 1979). The present study will argue that energy is indeed a limiting factor for altiplano populations and that seasonal migration serves to alleviate the stress caused by lack of energy resources in crucial periods. In particular, it will be shown that energy scarcity potentially affects the survival and reproduction of altiplano households and that seasonal migration provides added subsidies which households rely on at critical periods of growth and reproduction, and of agricultural crisis. Households have been chosen as the unit of analysis in approaching this problem since it is at this level that decisions are made with

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regard to productive processes, including migration. The kinship ties which are shared by the members of a household, and which bind them to other households, form the social relations of production in the district of Sarata. They organize labor and coordinate the realization of different productive activities which occur in points as distant from one another as the altiplano and the Tambopata Valley. Seasonal migration among the Aymara of Sarata provides a striking example of the way in which institutions of kin and community can order activities related to the survival and reproduction of people in their environment. For this reason, Chapters Five and Six of the present work will be devoted to Aymara kin and community relationships and their role in migratory activity. The question of whether energy is truly a limiting factor in the district of Sarata will be addressed through the use of energy flow models which were prepared for households in its three ecological, or natural life zones. These models v/ere quantified with data gathered through participant observation and interviews. The models serve a descriptive purpose, as a simplified representation of the flow of energy through the households. The simulation of the models also serves as an analytical tool for the answering of questions about energy availability and the effect of seasonal migration. Basic data on the altiplano environment, and on processes of production, consumption, and energy expenditure will be provided in Chapter Three, and the models and their analysis in Chapter Four. The migration of altiplano dwellers to Tambopata has been interpreted by many observers as an adaptation to a problem of land scarcity

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which has arisen in the past half-century. The present work argues that adaptations which exist in the present are a result of the way in which people have altered and shaped their behavior to deal with environmental problems in the past. They reflect changes in behavior which occur slowly over time. It is unlikely that the carefully scheduled patterns of movement which occur between the highlands and the valley, the complex networks of exchange and mutual assistance, and the calculated maximization of benefits from the two ecosystems, could have arisen full-formed in response to a recent trend toward reduced size of landholdings. Neither is this assumption supported by the historical evidence. As land pressure increases, seasonal migration may become more essential to the subsistence of saratehos , but it is not land pressure which gave rise to the strategy. The current movement to Tambopata is an extension of earlier patterns of seasonal migration and the conditions which give rise to it have been a fact of life on the altiplan o for hundreds of years, if not millenia, as subsequent sections of this chapter will show. The recognition of this fact allows us to deal with the adaptive behavior of seasonal migration in a more appropriate time frame. The social institutions which make migration possible today have grown up in conjunction with migratory activity over many hundreds of years. By looking at how the Aymara of the district of Sarata make decisions about and organize their migrations through the mechanisms of kinship today, and by using historical data to reconstruct how they may have done this in the past, a clearer picture of seasonal migration as an adaptive process is achieved.

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Many studies of adaptive human behaviors establish that a given activity has a specific function in its environmental setting and go no further. How such a behavior came to be or why it continues to be practiced is left unclear. Some researchers have postulated elaborate regulatory mechanisms which would serve to maintain behaviors which keep a system in "equilibrum" (Rappaport 1968). In the case of the Aymara of Sarata it is not necessary to postulate complex regulatory mechanisms or cybernetic models to explain why people behave in an adaptive way. The adaptive nature of seasonal migration is recognized by saratehos , and the exploitation of lowland ecosystems has been a conscious strategy on the part of altiplano populations for more than 1000 years. Furthermore, the Aymara have a deep awareness of the potential and limitations of their social structure and they consciously manipulate and use its relationships to make seasonal migration possible. Research on the problem of human adaptation to the altiplano environment was carried out during a year's field work in the district of Sarata. Participant observation was used to determine patterns of production and migration throughout the district. In-depth structured interviews were carried out to obtain detailed information on production, consumption, and energy expenditure. Participant observation and interviews were also carried out during the coffee harvest in the Tambopata Valley when the author accompanied Aymara producers from Sarata to that region. The research was carried out principally in the Aymara language. As previously described, much of the data collected were integrated into energy flow models and these models were simulated by computer

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in order to provide information on energy availability and the effect of migration. Another specialized analytical technique relied on was componential analysis, which was used to arrive at a description of the structure of Aymara kinship patterns which organize migration. This methodology, which is derived from the field methods of the structural linguist, was applied both to kin terms and kinship behavior of the district of Sarata. Finally, migratory histories collected in Aymara, and early Spanish writings, were consulted in order to reconstruct historical patterns of migration in the district and present-day kinship terms were compared with those described in 1603 by Bertonio (1879) in order to show the changes in kinship which accompanied changes in the strategy of seasonal migration. Seasonal migration among the Aymara of Sarata is not only a topic of relevance to theories of human adaptation. Important issues of economic development and public policy are also involved. The migration to Tambopata is an example of an autonomously developed adaptive strategy which has survived from pre-Incaic times and has been altered to meet the current needs of the population. Older strategies of lowland exploitation have not been given up in favor of integration into a cash economy. Rather, the Aymara of Sarata consciously introduced cash crops into a lowland ecosystem and reshaped their traditional migratory pattern just enough to accomodate this new development. Their seasonal migratory activity exemplifies the way in which a "marginal" population has, at least temporarily, been able to exercise control over the changes which accompany the introduction of a western-style cash economy.

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This favorable situation may be reversed at any time, however, by government policies which would deny highlanders access to valley lands, as the Law of Peasant Communities did, at least on paper, in 1969. Government policy makers are often unaware of the close relationships between highland and valley ecosystems. They do not recognize that to deny people from areas like Sarata access to lowland regions would at worst jeopardize their subsistence, and at best, trigger mass migration to the already overcrowded cities of the Peruvian coast. The idea that migration to the lowlands is a recent phenomenon caused by land shortages led policy makers in the Peruvian government to feel that token land redistribution in the highlands would make seasonal migration unnecessary. This widespread misconception could lead current officials to the conclusion that token development efforts in the highlands would make control of lowland ecosystems unnecessary to its inhabitants, and thus further the current trend to place ceja_ de selva and selva lands in the hands of large corporations (Agronoticias 1980). Finally, the ceja de selva of the Tambopata Valley is part of an ecological zone which has, until recently, seen very little development in Peru. The experience of saratehos in bringing this zone into production, and the changes brought about by the introduction of cash crops, provide important insights into the problems involved in the exploitation of the region. To date, all efforts to colonize the Peruvian ceja de selva by persons unfamiliar with the zone have failed. As a model of seasonal use, by persons who have experience in the region and whose survival in many ways depends on it, the example

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provided by saratenos is significant. Actions which would deny s ara tenos access to the valley would not only deny them resources which are of the utmost importance for their survival in the altiplano environment. It would also ignore a potential model for the effective utilization of a previously unexploited ecological zone. Highland Aymara in the Tropical Forest Five hundred years ago, the people of Sarata went to Tambopata to mine for gold. They went on foot, carrying their food and supplies in by llama caravan. The journey made this way required ten days (see Figure 1-2). The old foot paths are still followed by present-day merchants who take horses and mules to the valley to sell, but this older pattern has largely been replaced by more modern forms of transport. In the 1940s a road was built from the altiplan o to the town of Sandia, which is the capital of the province in which the Tambopata valley lies (see Figure 1-3). Many people took trucks as far as Sandia, then walked the three days more required to reach the small town of San Juan del Oro, in the heart of the coffee region. At the present time the road runs all the way to San Juan, but the area under cultivation has expanded so greatly that many plots still lie more than a full day's walk from the road. The road is a mixed blessing. The journey by foot was long and difficult and could not be made more than once or twice a year. The journey by truck is easier, and people are able to travel back and forth

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10 o>([ 5000 mders Figure 1-2. Sarata, the Eastern Cordillera of the Andes, and San Juan del Oro 'After Berthelot 1978:949)

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n

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12 between the highlands and the valley more frequently, but the danger of the journey is not decreased. The road is entirely of dirt, and once it enters the valley it consists mostly of a strip wide enough for one vehicle carved out of the side of a cliff. Its narrowness forces a general agreement among truck drivers that certain days of the week will be for traffic descending into the valley, while the rest are for traffic which is leaving. With the exposed earth of the cliffs on one side of the road, and the river gorge on the other, landslides are frequent in the rainy season. At the most conservative estimate, 15 people from the district of Sarata lost their lives traveling to and from the valley in 1980. The people of Sarata own their lands in Tambopata. The Delegaci6n de Tierras de Montana("Delegation of Jungle Lands"), passed in 1946, made it possible for potential "colonists" to claim small extensions of land. After years of bureaucratic confusion, in which people had to claim and reclaim and sometimes lost the same piece of land, the process for obtaining land appears to have been stabilized. It is currently controlled by the Ministry of Agriculture. The mean size of a producer's plots in the valley is 3.5 hectares (Institute Nacional de Planif icacion 1979) although a few people have managed to gain access to ten hectares or more. Once land is obtained, it is cleared by slash and burn techniques. The dense vegetation is cut down in June and July and burned after it is dry, in August or September. Previously propagated seedlings are set out in January or February and are replanted about three meters apart in

PAGE 24

13 March. All of the coffee grown in the valley is a variety of mild Arabica , similar to that grown in El Salvador. Although none equal coffee in importance, other crops are also grown in the valley and many of them are actually intercropped with the coffee trees. Corn is often planted between coffee seedlings the first year, to provide protection from the sun and rain. Plaintains are also started among the coffee to provide shade once the trees are larger. Yuca and taro , or papa japonesa ( Colocasia esculenta ) are grown for personal consumption during periods of work in the valley, and rice is being produced more frequently as cultivators move into lower areas more suitable to its cultivation. Oranges, pineapples, tangerines, lemons, papaya, and dozens of other fruits grow well and are often sold to intermediaries for marketing outside the valley. Approximately three to four years after planting, the coffee trees produce their first cherries, and they are usually in full production after the fifth year. The harvest takes place from April through September since not all the cherries ripen at the same time. In the early years of coffee production, techniques for removing the hull from the bean were extremely rudimentary. Growers placed the coffee in a fastmoving stream for as long as 15 days until the outer fruit was partially decayed. This was then removed either by trampling with the feet or by hand. This process often left the bean, as well as the hull, decayed, a condition referred to a cafe abombeado . At the present time, nearly all coffee growers own small machines with which to hull their harvest. Most producers of coffee depend on a labor besides their own, at least for the period of the harvest. They tend to rely on people who

PAGE 25

14 are either related by kinship or are members of the same altiplan o community. Only if no one in either of these categories can be found to help, will strangers be hired. Because of the small resident population, v/orkers must be convinced to travel from the altiplano . They are provided with all their meals and a place to stay in the valley, in addition to their daily wage, and are usually given a day off with pay ( pallaka ) every five to six days. Most of those who come to pick coffee as day laborers are younger people. If conditions in the valley agree with them, they will often claim a plot of their own. In this case, they can usually depend on the friend or relative they are working for to help them clear and plant their land, and they, in turn, will continue to help harvesting that person's fields until their own trees are producing. This is the most common way for new claims to be staked in the valley, and it is but one example of how the labor exchange mechanisms of the altiplano are relied on in the lowland environment. From the time it was introduced in Tambopata until the late 1960s, coffee was marketed through private intermediaries. Producers would carry the sacks of coffee on their backs from San Juan to Sandia where it was sold. Whether they sold it to small-scale transporters or to larger interests, it all eventually reached the hands of a few companies in the a ltiplano commercial center of Juliaca, who bulked it and sold it on the national or international market. In the 1960s the Peruvian govenrment set up a network of coffee cooperatives. These were designed to make technical assistance, inputs,

PAGE 26

15 and credit more easily available to producers. They also become the only legal mechanism for coffee marketing in the nation. There are currently base-level cooperatives in the Tambopata Valley. Each integrates several hundred producers, who tend to group together according to the altiplano communities to which they belong. Base level cooperatives are integrated into a regional organization known as CECOVASA (the Central Office of the Cooperatives of the Valleys of Sandia), which is located in Juliaca. The regional office bulks the coffee, grinds some of it, and sends it to the national headquarters which finally places it on the international market. While the creation of the cooperatives effectively ended the business of the large private sector traders, there are still opportunities for speculation by small-scale intermediaries. The cooperatives have a practice of giving small down-payments to producers when coffee is turned in, and then paying them the remainder when the trend of prices on the world market is better known. This usually allows the cooperative to pay higher prices than would be possible were they forced to make an early estimate. It also allows speculators to buy coffee from cultivators who need cash early in the season, at prices considerably below what the cooperative will pay later. They hold the coffee until the price rises sufficiently, and then sell it to the cooperative themselves for the higher price. The most salient characteristic of coffee production in Tambopata, as practiced by the people of Sarata, is the way in which it is integrated with subsistence activities on the altiplano . By careful

PAGE 27

16 distribution of household labor, production is carried out in two distinct and distant ecological zones. Fortunately, the coffee harvest, which requires the heaviest investments of labor, takes place largely during the dry season, when there is little agricultural work to be done on the altipla no. The beginning of the coffee harvest in April and May overlaps somewhat with the breaking open of fallow land and the harvest in the highlands, however, and the end of the harvest and September weeding in the valley also coincide with the beginning of the altiplano planting season. At these times, and during the December coffee weeding, labor is shuffled back and forth between highlands and lowlands as necessary. This opportunistic movement of productive household members, is in part made possible by the flexible sexual division of labor among the Aymara of Sarata. Both men and women engage in all types of agricultural activity and both men and women will migrate to the valley to carry out production there when necessary. Since men are considered better at plowing fallow land on the altiplano , they may work at this task while women go to the valley to weed and begin the coffee harvest in April. The women most often return to the altiplano by May, in order to begin the potato harvest, since they are considered better at this activity. Their husbands then travel to the valley to resume the coffee harvest. There is one rule which is never violated in the distribution of labor between the highlands and the lowlands: at least one adult household member must remain on the altiplano at all times. The subsistence of the households of Sarata depends on their highland fields and their

PAGE 28

17 livestock, and someone must always be there to care for the crops and animals and the household complex. For this reason, although both men and women migrate, they rarely do so together. Instead, they move back and forth individually between the two zones, according to where their presence is necessary. Land Tenure, Energy Deficiency, and Seasonal Migration Producing simultaneously in highland and lowland ecosystems, and the constant movement of household members necessary to maintain it, seems intuitively awkward to many outside observers. If one looks at the productive activities of the Aymara of Sarata with western expectations of consolidated landholdings and fixed residence, they appear to be a makeshift solution--a way to make ends meet until better alternatives are available. Perhaps it is for this reason that most investigators who have had occasion to deal with the migration to Tambopata, have assumed that seasonal migration is a temporary stage in what will eventually become a permanent colonization movement. The Puno-Tambopata project was a joint development effort of the Peruvian government and the United Nations, carried out in the 1950s. In addition to initiating development projects on the altiplan o, it attempted to improve the infrastructure of the Tambopata Valley in order to stabilize the already existing settlement there and to attract new migrants. Such efforts were based on a belief that once the health and transport situation in the valley was improved, seasonal migrants would begin to settle there permanently. Both Alfred Metraux (1956) and Hector

PAGE 29

Martfnez (1969), who worked in the zone in the 1940s and 1950s, also expressed the view that people would eventually cease to return to the aUiplano and would take up permanent residence in the ceja de selva. By the 1980s, such a transition to permanent settlement had not occurred, at least not among the Aymara cultivators of Sarata. There is, of course, a resident population in the valley, but it is made up almost exclusively of shop owners and merchants from the Quechua-speaking areas of Puno. Virtually no coffee-growers remain in the region yearround. In explaining the persistence of a seasonal migratory pattern, two factors must be considered. The first is the perception of the highlanders that there is no possibility of subsistence on the resources of the valley alone. The food crops that can be grown there are seen as limited, and it is recognized that they deplete the soil quickly. Work in the coffee fields is by nature seasonal, and while it provides welcome cash with which to supplement aUiplano subsistence, the amounts received could never suffice to feed a family for a year. Subsistence activities in the valley are not only viewed as insufficient, but as insecure. The money made from coffee is subject to strong market fluctuations as well as to the control of the cooperatives. The land claim process is seen as overly bureaucratic and arbitrary and there is always a suspicion on the part of producers that their rights to land could be suspended. All of these are factors outside the control of the producers and they make the risk of trying to support a household on valley activities seem far too high.

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19 The second factor which helps explain why the people of Sarata do not move permanently to the valley is that they have a tradition of seasonal migration which stretches back hundreds of years. This seasonal migration has most often been directed toward lowland areas where crops were grown or trade was engaged in to supplement highland subsistence. This is the same role that the income from coffee plays today. Accounts which have insisted that the visits of saratenos to Tambopata would eventually give way to permanent colonization have ignored the time depth of the pattern of seasonal movement. They have focused on current problems of the altiplano environment assuming that the movement to Tambopata is a response to forces unleashed only in the past few decades. Kuczynski-Godard (1945), Metraux (1956), Martfnez (1969) and the Institute Nacional de Planificacion (1979) have all attributed the migration to Tambopata to population pressure and parcel ization of land. Landholdings on the altiplano , and in the district of Sarata in particular, are indeed small. The average amount of cultivable land per person is 0.5 hectares. Holdings are smaller on land near Lake Titicaca, and larger as one moves further away from it. Since the land further from the lake is less productive, more of it is needed to produce the same amounts. However, none of the studies mentioned above actually demonstrated that the small size of landholdings was related in any way to the seasonal migration. The present study hopes to show that while seasonal migratory movements are related to deficiencies in the altiplano environment, they

PAGE 31

20 are not necessarily related to a shortage of land. The deficiencies referred to are energetic in nature, and are related to the particularities of the high-altitude environment. The problems of survival they have created for the al tiplano population are of long standing, and seasonal migration is an important historical strategy for solving these problems. There are some households in Sarata whose landholdings are not enough for all their children to inherit. In these cases, one or more of the children may migrate, but in these cases, Tambopata is rarely the destination. More often than not such migration will be directed toward the coastal cities--Tacna, Ilo, Mollendo, or Lima--to Juliaca, the local commercial center, or to La Paz, Bolivia. It is extremely difficult to obtain accurate figures on such migration, since in one case it is on a local level, in another it is international and thus often illegal, and since in almost all cases there are frequent trips made back to the home community. A survey conducted by the Instituto Nacional de Planif icacion in 1979 revealed that 44.7 percent of the population of the department of Puno had migrated at least once in their lifetime. If this figure is accepted as a rough estimate for the district of Sarata, and the 30 percent of the district's population which migrates to Tambopata is subtracted, approximately 15 percent of the population appears to have migrated to these other areas at least once. For most altiplano households, labor is a scarce commodity. The high rates of daily caloric expenditure presented in Chapter Three

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21 attest to this fact, as does the vitality of mechanisms of labor exchange. The accomplishment of critical agricultural tasks within the required time span is a challenge faced by most families on a yearly basis. Many households, if given more land outright, would find their ability to work it hindered by the constraints imposed by the critical periods for harvest, plowing, and planting. The present work argues that the altiplano can be classified as an energy-deficient region. This concept is defined and the data which lead to such a conclusion are presented in Chapters Three and Four. To call a region energy-deficient means that the reproduction of individuals and the growth of the population is limited by the availability of energy. On the altiplano , low temperatures, periodicity of rainfall, low availability of oxygen and carbon dioxide, poor soils, drought, hail, and frost often reduce altiplano yields to a point where producers may barely net an energetic return. When large crop losses occur several years in a row, as they did in the drought of the 1950s, the balance between energy expended and what is available to be consumed may shift to negative. Given these circumstances, bringing more land under cultivation would not be the most rational solution to the problems of altiplano producers. Painter (1978) has described a range of activities in which altiplano cultivators expend their labor during periods which are not critical to agriculture. Such activities, of which seasonal migration is the most important, have traditionally provided energy subsidies for altiplano households. Historically, these subsidies have taken the form of food or other goods produced or traded for at lower altitudes. At the

PAGE 33

22 present time, while such goods remain important, a cash income from the sale of coffee or the sale of one's labor has become a frequent goal. The cash can then be transformed into additional food or clothing for the household, improvements to the household complex, or into certain types of consumer goods which are rapidly increasing in popularity in the district of Sarata. Geertz (1963), Boserup (1965), Bartlett (1976), and others have discussed the way in which population increases in a region lead to intensification of productive labor. Archaeological remains of agricultural terracing are evidence for the long history of intensive agriculture on the altiplano . The records of the Inca overlords encountered by Garci Diez de San Miguel in Chucuito in 1567 (Murra 1964) showed the population of that region to have been 170,000 before the Spanish Conquest (SanchezAlbornoz 1974:44). With the Conquest, a rate of depopulation of approximately two-thirds occurred on the altiplano . The Peruvian Census of 1972 shows that only today is the population of what was then Chucuito approaching pre-Conquest levels. The ecological setting, the preConquest population, and the Conquest history of the district of Sarata are similar in every respect to that of Chucuito, and there is no reason to assume that the dynamics of its population change have been significantly different. Given the limited production of the region, intensification of agriculture could not continue indefinitely when population was at high levels. Vertical patterns of exploitation have historically been necessary for survival in the region, and they continued even after depopulation, when land was abundant.

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23 Hi storical Contact with the Ceja de Selva The Pre-Hispanic Roots It has long been believed that the ceja de selva region of the eastern Andes is, and has been, an uninhabited place. The soils of the steeply sloped tropical rain forest were seen as too delicate to permit more than a year or two of cultivation, prohibiting large settlements or permanent occupation of any one region (Lanning 1967:197). The eastern face of the Andes was considered to have been a natural barrier between the aboriginal groups of the Tropical Forest and the high Andes. Recent archaeological excavations have shown such assumptions to be untrue. Large settlements, stone architecture and extensive terracing have been found in association with highland ceramic traditions in many parts of the ceja de selva below 1500 meters (Ryden 1952; Bonavia 1968; Lathrap 1970; Thompson 1968). Extensive systems of terraces and large settlements at pre-Incaic sites in the Inambari Valley, near Tambopata, provide evidence of heavy population pressure and intensive agriculture as low as 800 meters (Isbell 1968). Lathrap (1970) has shown that the lower ceja de selva was occupied by Tropical Forest groups from 1800 B.C. onward. Ethnographic and ethnohistorical work by Camino (1978) and Gade (1972) has documented extensive contact and trade between highland and lowland peoples, as has the discovery of Amazonian materials in early highland archaeological sites (Wing 1972; Wassen 1972). Murra (1964) has called attention to the exploitation of Peruvian coastal valleys by the Aymara-speaking Lupaqa kingdom of the altiplano in the 15th and 16th centuries. The Lupaqa were based on the south side

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24 of Lake Titicaca, near the present-day town of Chucuito. They relied on corn, fruits, cotton, and other products from the Pacific coast, as did other Aymaraspeaking kingdoms of the altipjano , such as the Pacajes (Murra 1972). The Lupaqa gained access to coastal products through seasonal migration to trade, and through the placement of small colonies in the region. Their large herds of animals gave them a means of transport for the goods. Because of their many animals and access to a wide range of products, the Indians of Chucuito became renowned for their wealth. They became so famous, in fact, that during the first years of the Conquest they were given a special status before the Spanish king and were exempted from the encomienda --or allotment of Indian labor to a Spanish "guardian." The Lupaqa, as well as the other chiefdoms of the altiplano , also had access to land in the eastern Andean valleys. Saignes (1978) has documented the presence of groups of Col la, Pacajes, and Lupaqa in the fertile valleys of Carabaya, Ambana, and Larecaja in northern Bolivia and southern Peru. As on the Pacific coast, the valleys were cultivated by colonists, and the products, in this case mainly corn and coca, were transported to the altiplano by llama caravan. The eastern Andean valleys, like those of the coast, were characterized by the multitude of ethnic groups which exploited them (Saignes 1978; Murra 1975). Their proximity, however, made them especially important to the inhabitants of the northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca, where the district of Sarata lies today. Friar Reginaldo de Lizarraga, who passed along the northern lake shore in 1609, commented:

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25 This province is heavily populated and for the most part they are Puquinas; they are rich in camel ids and they participate [in the tribute system] with more corn and v^heat than those of the other part [the Lupaqa] because they have at their left hand the province of Larecaja which abounds in both these products. (1968:72) The products of the valleys of Ambana and Larecaja are still of great importance to the people of Sarata. The valleys are known collectively to the inhabitants of the district as Wallisa, which in Aymara means "our valleys." Although restrictions posed by the international border prevent them from cultivating land there any longer, many families still travel frequently to Wallisa to trade highland products for corn. While ethnohistorical sources do not allow the exploitation of lowland resources by peoples of the altiplano to be traced back further than the Incaic period (see Figure 1-4) the research of Murra (1975) and Saignes (1978) makes it clear that the colonies in the eastern valleys were not mitma e sent by the Inca rulers. They were, on the contrary, placed in the valleys and controlled by the regional powers of the altiplano . This leaves open the question of the antiquity of such a strategy, since it was not an importation of the Inca empire, but a model native to the altiplano . Recent archaeological work extends considerably the time frame within which contact between the highlands and lowlands can be examined. The Nino Korin finds, in the present-day department of La Paz, Bolivia, provide evidence for early highland contact with the s elva region. The site, which lies only a day's walk from the district of Sarata, is clearly from the Tihuanacoid period (approximately 600-1000 A.D.). A set of

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26 AD 2000. 1950. 1900 1800. 1/00. 1600 Late Horizon 1500" Late Intermediate Period ,1000 Middle Horizon mi: Early Intermediate Period 0-r Early Horizon 1000 Initial Period Preceramic 2000 3000 4000 5000 BC 6000 _L coffee 3 rubber quinine — Peruvian Republic established reduccidn of Sarata established ^mines of Potosf opened/San Juan del Oro
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27 plant products and associated iniplenients were found, v;hich appear to have belonged to a native healer (Wassen 1972). Several of the plants are not native to the altiplano and the closest possible environment in which they could have been found is in the lower part of the Bolivian yungas . It appears likely that one plant specimen may have been traded into the region from as far away as the eastern slopes of the Ecuadorian Andes (Schultes 1972). A Tihuanacoid settlement has also been discovered on the Apurimac River, at the point where upstream canoe navigation becomes impossible. Immediately below this highland settlement, a Tropical Forest Culture site is found (Scott 1972). Lathrap (1973) suggests that such placement of Tihuanacoid settlements is not uncommon. It seems likely from these sites that the al tip lano-based Tihuanaco empire engaged in active trade relationships with lowland peoples. Lathrap (1970) and Lanning (1967) both give examples of even earlier interchanges between highland and lowland cultures, but there has not yet been sufficient archaeological research in the eastern Andes to speculate on the nature or intensity of such interchanges. Lumbreras (1974) has suggested that the effective use of strategies of vertical exploitation, rather than conquest, many have been responsible for the Tihuanacoid expansion. In the specific case of the altiplano , the exploitation of lowland regions can first be documented in conjunction with Tihuanacoid materials. In other parts of the world the expansion and consolidation of complex, state-level societies are associated with the intensification of agriculture. It

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28 seems likely that on the alt iplano it was linked to large-scale strategies of vertical exploitation. For the chiefdoms which controlled the altiplano from the fall of Tihuanaco to the time of the Inca conquest, the lowlands provided a wealth of useful items: cotton, fruits, corn, peppers, spices, and medicinal herbs, to name but a few. Under the Inca, for the first time, gold began to be exploited in large quantities. The mines and rivers of the Tambopata Valley were rich beyond imagination in this mineral. In fact, the mines of Carabaya (as the Spanish designated the selva of Puno) were known as "the most opulent of all of America" by the 17th century (Bueno 1951; Maurtua 1906:1). The Search for Gold and the Escape from Forced Labor Under Inca domination, the large sites of gold excavation in Carabaya were the property of the Inca himself and were worked by mitmae. Gold which could be panned from the rivers and streams was designated as property of the communities of the northeastern lake-shore, or more properly speaking, of the communal authorities (Berthelot 1978). During Inca rule, the people of Sarata panned for gold in the valley nearly three months of every year, during "the time when their absence would not be felt in the fields" (Jimenez de la Espada 1965:69). The earliest Spanish encomender os in the region, Felipe Gutierrez, Francisco de Carvajal,and a Capitan Soto, saw this as a custom worthy of continuation. They laid claim to the large excavations of gold, as well as to that panned from the rivers. They relied on the altiplano

PAGE 40

29 communities to provide the knowledge of the area, the techniques, and the labor for the mining of the latter (Jimenez de la Espada 1965:69). After the discovery of silver at Potosi" in 1545, the labor of saratehos was diverted to that enormous mining enterprise. The Spanish did not neglect the gold of the valleys, however. The town of San Juan del Oro was founded on the Tambopata River around 1547, probably by fugitive Spaniards of the parties of Pizarro and Almagro (Raimondi 1883). Cieza de Leon noted in his chronicle of 1553 that the town of San Juan had by that time sent out "more than 1,700,000 gold pesos." One famous nugget which was shaped like a horse's head and weighed more than 100 pounds won the title of "Villa Imperial" for San Juan (Bueno 1951). Catholic missions were also established in the valley by the time of the expeditions of Juan Alvarez de Maldonado in the 1560s (Maurtua 1906:11, 134), although the difficult terrain kept their activity to a minimum for many years. Another valuable lowland commodity produced by altiplano dwellers under the Inca, if not earlier, was coca. Like the mining of gold, the cultivation of coca was encouraged and perhaps expanded by the Spaniards. Particularly after the opening of the mines at Potosf, coca for the workers was considered essential and inhabitants of the northeastern lake shore were sent to work in the coca fields of the Bolivian yungas . Thierry Saignes has said, "after the Conquest, the Spanish tried to impose a radically foreign spatial arrangement: in fixing the Indians in their places of residence, they awoke the contradictions

PAGE 41

30 whose stage was set under Inca policy" (1978:1168). It is true that the Spanish had a concept of fixed residence, and that they tried to impose this concept on the native population of the Americas. The grouping of Indians into reducciones under Viceroy Toledo was but one example of such policy. Despite their best administrative efforts, the Spanish were never able to achieve the kinds of stable settlement patterns which they had hoped would facilitate the execution of their policies. The incessant movement of the highland population of Peru and Bolivia to avoid tribute and the mit'a (forced labor) has been documented by Sa'nchez-Albornoz (1974). He estimates that as much as 60 percent of highland inhabitants may have been living outside their home communities throughout most of the 17th century. A document which he published dealing with the labor shortage which this situation was causing for the mines of Potosi, in 1690, includes a reference to the district of Sarata. In it, the captain of the town of Sarata testified that the governor of the district was robbing the people of their lands and that "for this reason the Indians have fled to different provinces and the mit'a arrives so diminished in size" (Sanchez-Albornoz 1978:139). Kubler has also commented on the movements of the foras teros, as the mobile population was called. He noted that when the censused Peruvian tribute population of 1628 was compared with that for 1754, only 11 provinces gained in population. Three of these were the urban centers of Lima, Cuzco,and Cajamarca. Seven of the remaining eight were situated along the eastern Andean frontier. Kubler suggests that this

PAGE 42

31 was a result of "eastward flight ... to new settlements in the uncharted montaha ," by people avoiding the mit'a and tribute payments (1944:337). Ulloa, in discussing the history of the southern Peruvian selva , puts the matter plainly: When the Spanish dominated Peru, it is probable, even certain, that in the provinces of Cuzco and the Collao there took place a strong out-migration toward these [ selva ] regions. It is known that the Spanish authorities, • when they undertook the so-called reduccion of tributable Indians, complained of the disappearance of immense numbers of them: some declared explicitly that the Indians took refuge and lodged themselves among the heathen chunchus and others. (1899:19) This strategy of retreating to the selva in times of adversity is one which has continued to the present day. Large numbers of highlanders fled to the selva after all of the major Indian revolts on the altiplano in order to avoid the subsequent repression. The last of these revolts took place in the second decade of this century. The physician Kuczynski-Godard, who visited the Tambopata Valley in the 1930s, commented that the majority of its population was composed of refugees from the 1922-23 Indian uprising of the northern alti plano (1945:70). It would seem unlikely that a strategy of taking refuge in the selva would be practiced by people who had no experience in the region. Missions, Quinine, and Rubber Spanish missionization of the Tambopata Valley became more active under the Bishop of Cuzco in the 1670s. The town of San Juan del Oro had been destroyed in 1650, either by an earthquake or an Indian invasion (Raimondi 1883) but had been reestablished by the

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32 1570s, and other towns were built as well. Most of the Indians who were missionized were of a group called the Toroniona, who were slash-andburn agriculturalists and appear to have spoken a language of the Tacana family (Maurtua 1906:11; Steward 1963). The evangelization of the valley was considered a burden by the earliest clerics. A group from La Paz had entered the region in the 1600s only to give up their efforts. The valley was too narrow either for animals or agriculture, they said, and trips to bring in supplies were difficult and dangerous. They redirected their efforts toward the Larecaja Valley of present-day Bolivia where living conditions were better. Only with the discovery of quinine in the early 19th century did missionization in Tambopata become intense. During this epoch a fierce rivalry over mission rights sprang up between clerical groups of La Paz and Cuzco. By 1806, Cuzco had given responsibility for the zone to a missionary school in Moquegua, who were provided with instructions and funds for the establishment or reducciones . Around this time, the La Paz fathers reentered the valley, claiming that they had made first contact with the Indians and therefore had the right to reduce them. The dispute was brought to an abrupt end, however, when, as a result of preliminary efforts to institute the new settlement pattern, the last of the contacted Toromona succumbed to a wave of disease. By the mid-18th century there were 29 Spanish settlements in the Carabaya region. Large coca plantations had been established along the Inambari River and gold mining and panning continued on a small

PAGE 44

33 scale. In Larecaja and other valleys of the Bolivian yun^as^, people from Sarata continued to cultivate land and exchange products, or to work as laborers on the coca haciendas (Martfnez 1969). The early 19th century, as noted, brought quinine exploitation to the valleys of the eastern Andes. While the curative properties of cascarilla ( Cinchona mecrantha , Calisaya febrifuga , and Cinchona bolivi ana ) for malaria had long been known to Europeans, confusion over the exact identity of the bark had prevented its widespread use. Only when the European colonial expansion into Africa in the 19th century created an urgent need for an anti-malarial drug, were the scientific problems resolved, and was widespread gathering of Cinchona for quinine begun in the jungles of Latin America (McNeill 1976). By the 1840s quinine had become one of Peru's most vital exports. The population of the alti piano participated in the gathering of cascarilla. The most active participants were from Quecha-speaking areas around Pucara. While many of the Quechuas entered as independent collectors or to establish tambos or trading posts, the Aymara of Sarata had less voice in their entrance into the trade. After a regional uprising in the 1860s against the reinstitution of personal tribute, large numbers of sarateho s were "deported" to the valleys of Carabaya (Vasquez 1976). While the deportation was nominally punitive in nature, it also served to provide labor for the extraction of Cinchona bark. Previous experience in the lowlands had made altiplano dwellers aware of, but not immune to, lowland diseases and dangers. They knew that in the rain forest environment the risks of malaria, uta

PAGE 45

34 (leishmoniasis) , respiratory disease and skin and intestinal ailments v^ere great. They also feared poisonous snakes and the wild animals which at that time were still numerous in the valley. CIPCA (1976:25) has suggested that during early colonizations of the Bolivian yungas by altiplano peoples, colonizing households may have rotated frequently to avoid these types of health problems. In the oral history of the people of Sarata there are references to the dangers encountered in the gathering of Cinchona bark. In particular, the era of exploitation of quinine was known as "the time when 'tigers' learned to eat people." Because the gatherers had to be constantly climbing the steep slopes of the valley, many lost their lives by plunging to the bottom of ravines. It is said that when the "tigers" (probably jaguars) came upon these dead bodies and devoured them, they acquired the taste for human flesh which causes them to hunt human beings today. The exploitation of quinine came to an end in the 1870s when the wild Cinchona of the Peruvian selva became unable to compete with the plantation-grown product of Java and Ceylon. Incense and copal, which had been gathered in conjunction with quinine, also declined with it. The valley returned to a pattern of small-scale gold exploitation, which was now largely in the control of foreign interests. By the turn of the century, rubber exploitation had replaced quinine. The rubber of the eastern Andean valleys was of poor quality. Exploitation in the valleys of Carabaya was confined to wild plants. Rubber gathering was conceived of as a one-time, all-or-nothing enterprise,

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35 and the rubber v\;as not removed from the trees carefully. Most trees were destroyed in the process (Marti'nez 1969). The rubber industry in southern Peru was largely in the hands of North American companies such as Inca Rubber, Tambopata Rubber, and Compahia Forga. They recruited labor through local political officials. The officials would bring together groups of young men, by persuasion or by force, who were taken down to work in the valley. Although their labor was contracted for a certain period of time at a certain price, a person entering the valley in this fashion could be held in virtual slavery. Once the agreed-upon period of labor was completed, it was claimed that contractors would refuse to pay the workers. This meant that they had no way of provisioning themselves for the return trip and consequently could not leave the valley (Martinez 1969:419). Peruvian rubber, like Peruvian quinine, quickly became anti-economical in the face of new market developments, and even if it had not, the techniques of exploitation applied to it in the Tambopata Valley made it a nonrenewable resource. T he Twentieth Century The 1920s were a period of violence and unrest on the northern altiplano . A drop in wool prices and subsequent attempts at expansion by haciendas in the region disposessed smallholders of significant portions of their lands (Orlove 1976). At the same time, social changes were being instigated by groups such as the North American Adventist Church and the Lima-based Society for the Protection of Indian Rights. These changes, which consisted mainly of the construction of schools

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36 for the indigenous population, were actively opposed by local elites who feared that the Indians might cease providing them with the labor services and rent they were accustomed to receiving. This fear carried some elite groups so far as to burn several of the newly constructed Indian schools, an act which led to open defiance on the part of the Indians and eventually to violence on the part of the elites. Indians retaliated for the burning of the schools by marching on the towns, where most of the elite families in question resided. While no acts of violence were reported on the part of the indigenous population, the "pacificatory" raids conducted by elite families were a documented series of atrocities. As in the rebellion of Juan Bustamente in the 1860s, many hundreds of Indians were killed, their homes burned, and their animals confiscated. There were public tortures and executions in the plazas of all the towns on the northeastern side of the lake and mass graves today mark the sites of the slaughter (Hazen 1974; Gallegos 1972; Luque 1977). Flight to the selva was virtually the only way saratehos had to flee such repression. It is for this reason that in 1937, Kuczynski-Godard found the majority of the population of Tambopata to be refugees from the aftermath of the 1923 uprising. There was another group of people seeking refuge in the Tambopata Valley in the 1930s. These were families from the Bolivian and Peruvian alti piano who had been cultivating land in the Bolivian valleys. In order to avoid conscription for the Chaco War, they left their lands there and moved into Tambopata. It was with these settlers that the first coffee, and the techniques for its cultivation, were introduced into the region.

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37 Throughout the 1940s the production of coffee was scattered and quite small in scale. It attracted the attention of government officials, however, and an Office of Indian Migration was opened in 1944. By the mid-1 940s, the Puno-Tambopata Project was begun as a program of the Peruvian Indianist Institute. Its stated goals were to increase the production and income of the Department of Puno, provide an alternative to rural-urban migration, and to increase sovereignty over a relatively uninhabited area. It was also suggested that migration might serve to defuse the potentially explosive situation which had been left by the repression of the 1923 uprising (Hazen 1974:308-9). In 1946 a law was passed (Ley 1220, La Delegacion de Tierras de Montana) which allowed highlanders to legally claim land in the valley and by the 1950s several development efforts made the trip to Tambopata easier. A road was constructed as far as Sandia, using government and United Nations funds and voluntary local labor. The Puno-Tambopata project began construction of health facilities and other services in the valley (Martinez 1969). These efforts facilitated migration to Tambopata and increased the number of highlanders who participated. They acted on behalf of a movement which had, however, already been initiated and whose direction and seasonality had been determined by local needs. A further factor which gave impulse to the migration of the 1950s was the agrarian reform of the Movimiento Nacional Revolucionario in Bolivia. Peruvians who were cultivating, either permanently or seasonally in the Bolivian yungas, could not receive allocations in the

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new government's land reform. While a few families chose to remain in the yungas , assume Bolivian citizenship, and continue cultivating, most returned to Peru and many of those took up the production of coffee in the Tambopata Valley. More than any other factor, the Agrarian Reform in Bolivia served to cut off the people of Sarata from their traditional lands in the valleys of Ambana and Larecaja and other parts of the yungas . What the reducciones , taxation, the creation of corregimientos , the institution of an international boundary, and countless other measures had not accomplished, this did. The relationship of the people of Sarata with the Bolivian valleys became limited to commercial ties--the interchange of products of their respective homes. While trading trips to the valleys to obtain corn are still an important activity in most of the district of Sarata, the trip to the yungas is considered by most people to be too long and burdensome. The increasing availability of corn from Cuzco in the local market makes purchase of this item an attractive alternative to a six-day walk. Many present-day saratehos have relatives who stayed in the Bolivian yungas in 1952, most of whom they have not seen in more than twenty years. A final stimulus to the migration to grow coffee in Tambopata was the severe drought which dried up the alti plano year after year toward the end of the 1950s. By far the majority of people from Sarata who migrate to Tambopata had their first contact with the zone, either on their own or through a family member, during this period. The stories which are told about this time reflect the horror of families facing

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39 starvation. Food supplies stored for many years were used up. There was no seed to plant and no food to feed the workers to open up the land. By the time the drought ended in 1960, virtually every household in the area had been forced to find some way to supplement their decimated production, and the cultivation of coffee in the Tambopata Valley had been taken up by many families. The Altiplano Setting The political environment . The district of Sarata lies in the province of Huancane in the department of Puno in southern Peru. The district is bordered on the east by the department of La Paz, Bolivia, and on the south by Lake Titicaca. To the north, it approaches the eastern range of the Andes and to the west lie the major cities of the region. Huancane, the provincial capital lies 50 kilometers or about a two-hour truck ride away. For the people of Sarata it serves mainly as a legal and administrative center. The town abounds with lawyers, judges, justices of the peace, notaries and scribes, who in the past made a good living off the problems and legal disputes of an often illiterate peasantry. With the legalization of Indian schools in the 1920s, the level of literacy among the population grew rapidly, as did their understanding of legal and administrative matters. Currently the people of Sarata will bypass Huancang whenever possible to seek legal services in Juliaca, or Puno, where judges and lawyers are felt to be better trained and less dependent upon the exploitation of the rural population.

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40 Juliaca, the regional center of commerce and transport, lies 50 kilometers beyond Huancane. It is a three-hour truck ride from Sarata in the dry season, but may take as long as six hours in the rainy season, when roads are in bad condition. Juliaca has only achieved regional importance in recent years. The town's process of growth began with the construction of the Southern Peruvian Railroad's Arequipa to Puno line in the late 19th century. What had been a tiny hamlet of 500 people in 1876 (Appleby 1980) was a booming commercial center of nearly 120,000 people in 1980 (Caretas 1980a). Trucks leave Sarata for Juliaca at 2:00 every morning. They arrive around sunrise at which time the passengers begin transacting business, and they are ready to start the return trip to Sarata by 10:00 a.m. The largest number of people make the trip on Monday, which is the day when the major market is held in Juliaca. Saratehos may buy such things as analine dye, rubber sandals, or hardware, either for their own use or to sell at smaller markets in the town of Sarata or in one of its communities. They may sell products of Bolivian origin or occasionally cheeses, eggs, or beans. Juliaca is a center of transport as well as of commerce. This is of no small importance considering the wide variety of places to which s aratehos find it necessary to travel. Tambopata and the valleys of Bolivia are the most frequently visited regions, but some sa^r^tehos travel to Lima, where they form a large percentage of the membership of the street cleaners' union. Others travel for purposes of trade or employment to Cuzco, Arequipa, Moquegua, or La Paz. They may travel to

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41 work temporarily in the small mines of Puno or to the larger ones at Toquepala in Tacna. They travel to work in the fishing industry in places such as lie or Mollendo; to engage in commerce in Sicuani, Lampa, Ayacucho, Huancayo, Abancay, and Iquitos; to trade in the coastal valleys or Arequipa and Moquegua and of the ceja de selva of Cuzco; and to mine for gold in Puerto Maldonado. The more adventurous people, who have made money in transport or other business interests, are not strangers to cities such as Santa Cruz, Bolivia; Buenos Aires in Argentina; or Sao Paulo in Brazil. Virtually without exception the journeys made by saratenos to these places are temporary--for the purpose of earning cash, of trade or for some other type of business venture. Thus, the access to larger networks of transportation provided by Juliaca is of great importance. While train, bus, and air facilities are available, the most popular means of transport are the literally hundreds of trucks which enter and leave the Juliaca markets every day. Juliaca's rapid growth and booming commerce caused Puno, the departmental capital, to be overshadowed, at least in the eyes of saratenos. Despite the fact that Puno lies only 40 kilometers beyond Juliaca, and that the paved road connecting the two cities makes the journey between them require less than an hour, people from Sarata rarely have a reason to go there. With the exception of the highest departmental officials, and the regional university, there is nothing in Puno, in their perception, which cannot be acquired more easily and at less cost in Jul iaca. This has not always been the case, for in the early part of this century, steam transport linked the harbor of Puno with that of

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42 Sarata and other small ports around the lake. Juliaca, lying inland, v-jas not a part of this transport network. A new road, constructed in the 1940s, linked Juliaca with Sarata and the Bolivian border, at the same time that steamship transport was ending. This effectively broke the district's ties with Puno and there has been no reason since then to reestablish them. Political divisions within the district of Sarata are quite complex. This is partly the result of political structures imposed at different times by different governments, all of which have left their mark on the system which exists today. The district of Sarata is divided into 12 ayllu . As a pre-Hispanic unit of social structure the ayllu remains in many ways a mystery. Based on analogy with present-day use of the term, Isbell (1978) has defined it as a unit within which certain bonds of kinship are recognized. Early Spanish documents suggest that 1t may also have had political functions (Soldi 1978). Zuidema (1977) has suggested that the term ayllu may have simply signified "a group with a boundary" and may have been applied to social and political groups of varying sizes and types. The district of Sarata, like most of the rest of the Andes, possessed a bipartite division as well, with six of its ayllu falling into each say a or part. The parts were called K"upisaya and Ch'iqasaya, or part of the left and part of the right. Although both halves of the district include diverse climatic and geographic subregions, saratehos characterize K"upisaya as the zone of rich agricultural production and Ch'iqasaya as the zone of animal wealth.

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43 Within a few years of the Spanish Conquest, the ayllu system had been adopted as an administrative tool. Despite the fact that many ay11u had access to land that ran, discontinuously, from the lake shore to the high altitudes near the eastern Andean range, people were known by their ayllu membership. What ayllu a person belonged to was significant, in other words, even though it told one little or nothing about where they resided. Only in the present century did ayllu begin to split apart, with their component settlements establishing themselves as communities or parcialida des. The most common motive for such action was to establish each settlement as an independent unit in order that it might receive its own school. The separation of an ayllu into communities was a formal, legal process, involving a chartering of the new units and their investment with the right to representation in the district government by a teniente governador (lieutenant governor). A few communities applied for formal recognition by the national government's Office of Indigenous Affairs (prior to 1969) or through the various organisms which handled that procedure under Peru's military government (1968-1980). The benefits associated with recognized status have varied throughout this century, from legal protection of land, to technical assistance with development projects, but in no cases did the recognized communities of Sarata receive any of these benefits. The splitting apart of the ayllu has led to a binomial naming system for communities and parcialidades . The axUy. name is retained, but the unit is given an additional characterization to distinguish it

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44 from the other subunits within the ay11u . For example, a community formed out of the ay11u Q'arapata might become known as Waha Q'arapata-"dry 'arapata"--because of its lack of irrigation or access to water. Janq'u Sikta--"white Sikta"--might refer to a part of an ayllu called Sikta which is characterized by the salt flats within its boundaries. The internal structure of the communities varies depending on whether or not they have been officially recognized by the national government. All communities have an appointed teniente , who acts as an intermediary between the community and the district governor. Nonrecognized communities also have a president and other elected officials who take care of community finances, organize work projects, see that schools and other community buildings are maintained, etc. Recognized communities have a Council of Administration ( consejo de administracion ) and Council of Vigilance ( consejo de vigila ncia) whose officers carry out functions similar to those of the president, vice-president, etc. of non-recognized communities. Under a law passed by the military government of 1968-1980, recognized communities must set aside some portion of their land to be worked in common for the benefit of the entire community. In Sarata, this land is often used to cultivate supplemental food crops for the schools. Members of recognized communities are also prohibited by law from owning land or working outside the community. This rule, if enforced, would not only prevent the diversification of landholdings as a protection against localized frost and hail; it would prevent temporary migration to the urban centers to seek work and it would deny the saratehos access

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45 to their lands in the Tambopata Valley. Fortunately, to date there has been no effort made to enforce this rule, although theoretically, if a community from Sarata were to apply for any type of government benefit, it would be necessary to show that they were in compliance with this law. The twelve a yllu s and 38 parcial idades or communities are not the only political units in the district of Sarata. In the mid-18th century a series of small h acienda s were carved out of the eastern part of the district. These were mainly herding enterprises, and they relied more heavily on sheep and cattle than native camelids. Under the agrarian reform of 1969-75, the haciendas were expropriated and restructured into a SAIS (Soci edad Agrfcpla de Interes Social or Agricultural Social Interest Society) . As officially defined, the SAIS was to be cooperatively run by hacienda workers and members of surrounding communities. In terms of its actual operations, the communities never participated in the SAIS, either in the formal decision-making body or as a part of its labor supply. The enterprise suffered such severe financial problems from its outset that even the former hacienda workers who were its labor force had to forego wages during the second and third years of its operation (Juan Lira Condori , personal communication). The SAIS is currently completely dependent on loans from the Peruvian government for its survival. According to statements made in 1980 by the Minister of Agriculture of Peru's new civilian government, collective enterprises which are not making a profit will be reorganized again in the near future. It is not yet clear, however, what a new reorganization will entail (Caretas 1980b).

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46 The final political unit within the district is the town of Sarata itself. The town, which is the district capital, has about 2000 residents, or approximately 10 percent of the population of the district. As a political unit, the town, like the communities, has a teniente gobernador . It also has a mayor and a town council which administer its affairs. Fifty years ago, the town was the home of the regional mestizo elite, who spoke both Aymara and Spanish and had ties both to people in the communities and elite families at the departmental level. Until recently this group controlled much of the commerce of the region, but events of the past fifty years have changed this situation. Declining opportunities in wool and agriculture forced the elites to the cities. The young people of elite families left to receive an education and never returned. The agrarian reform, or fear ot it, was the final factor which loosed this group's control over the resources of the countryside. At the same time the elites were leaving, the rural population was taking advantage of new opportunities. People from rural communities began to acquire capital from international commerce, and to gain control of the district's transport facilities. When elite families moved out of town and put their houses up for sale, people from rural communities bought them. Having a house in town made it easier for one's children to attend the district high school. Also since all transport out of the district leaves at night, it made travel and commerce more convenient. The process of the old elite vacating the town and new entrepreneurial sectors from the communities moving in is not unique to

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47 Sarata. It appears to be occurring in district capitals all around Lake Titicaca (Father Domingo Llanque, personal communication). In many ways, this movement is responsible for a revitalization of the towns. The new inhabitants see them as their home and do not have the goal of finding a position in the departmental capital and moving out as did so many of the elite. They are thus more concerned about the town's maintenance and the initiation of improvement projects. In 1980, the town of Sarata had a hydroelectric plant, which produced electricity from 6 to 10 p.m., running potable water from a local spring, and well-equipped health post. A sewage system was in the process of being installed. Social stratification . The discussion of the town as a political unit, inevitably leads to the topic of social class. The towncountryside dichotomy has traditionally been the most important social division in the district of Sarata (Painter 1981). Indigenous uprisings have been frequent in the region from the 18th century to the 20th, and these have invariably taken the form of the countryside marching on the town with grievances and the townspeople retaliating with torture, mass executions, and pillaging. This pattern began with the Tupac Amaru/ Tupac Katari uprisings of the 18th century, was continued with the campaign of Juan Bustamente in the 1870s and repeated again in the Tawantinsuyu movement of the 1920s. At the heart of these events lay the determination of a mestizo town elite ( misti ) to maintain control of production in a region, where they owned very little of the land. To do so, the elite attempted to

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engage the people of the countryside in patron-client relationships of a fiercely possessive type. They demanded extreme expressions of subservience and attempted to monopolize the Spanish language and the educational system to their advantage (Painter 1981). Town-countryside tensions have been reduced in recent years due to the out-migration of the local elite. Control of commerce and vital local services has given new economic power to former rural producers, and members of the elite who have remained in Sarata have seen their power diminish. Thus, while there is still a perception of a dichotomy between the rural and urban populations, the economic basis of this dichotomy is in the process of breaking down. Language and ethnicity . The people of Sarata speak Aymara, an indigenous language of Peru, Bolivia, and Chile which belongs to the Jaqi language family (Hardman 1966). Everyone in the district, with the exception of a few policemen assigned there temporarily, speaks Aymara regardless of their social class, residence, or economic situation. Approximately half of the district's population speak Spanish to some degree, with the greatest number of speakers under the age of thirty. While Aymara is the language of the home, of the community, and of the regional marketplace, Spanish must be learned in order to have access to most written materials, to attend to bureaucratic or legal matters and for one's travels to other parts of the country. For commercial ists, some knowledge of Cuzco Quechua is also important, in order to do business in the town of Juliaca, which lies in a Quechua-speaking region.

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49 The linguistic situation of Sarata has historically been complex. The northeastern shore of Lake Titicaca was primarily Puquina-speaking in the early days of the Spanish Conquest (Lizarraga 1968; Espinosa Soriano 1980). The first Spanish priest to permanently reside in Sarata learned both Aymara and Puquina in the course of carrying out his duties (Salazar Aguilar and Cuentas Collado 1965). It is not known, however, who within the region spoke Aymara and Puquina, nor to what degree bilingual ism in the two languages existed. The imposition of Inca rule on the northern altiplano , in the late 15th century, introduced even greater linguistic and ethnic diversity. Because the region had resisted Inca domination for so long, not only a colony of Inca administrators was established, but Huanca mitmae from central Peru were brought to the region for the purpose of maintaining control (Toledo 1975). Inhabitants of the Sarata region were also exposed to many languages in their travels to other places and their exploitation of lowland ecosystems. The linguistic and ethnic diversity of the past are illustrated in an important ceremony which takes place in Sarata in association with the fiesta of the Virgin of Candelaria in February. In this ceremony, which is called Qurawasiri--"the sling-shot duelers"--four groups bring special offerings to the district governor and then participate in a ritual slingshot duel which predicts their fortunes in the year to come. The groups which participate represent the Uru, from the lake shore region where the tasa de Toledo (1975) recorded Uru living in 1573; the Qulla, from the western part of the district near the heart of the

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50 pre-Incaic Qulla chiefdom; the Inca, from certain lake shore communities; and the Kullawaya, from the herding zone in the northeastern part of the district near the home of the present-day Kullawaya healers (see Bastien 1973; Stark 1972). While it is known that the Inca administrators spoke Quechua, and that the Qulla were Ayniara-speaking, the languages which were associated with the Kullawaya and Uru have not been well established. Either one or both could have been speakers of Puquina, but whether they were or not is by no means clear. What is clear, however, is that there were at least four well-defined ethnic groups inhabiting what is today the district of Sarata at or around the time of the Spanish Conquest, and that present-day saratehos are aware of these past ethnic divisions. The actual participants in the slingshot dual (which is carried out with peaches rather than stones) are said to have genealogies which go back several hundred years and which link them to the groups in question. Because their responsibilities are genealogically determined, everyone in the district agrees that this is the one ritual office which cannot be avoided. In 1980, some of the people whose participation was necessary had converted to Seventh Day Adventism, and did not wish to comply. Enormous pressure was placed on them by others in their communities to insure that the ceremony would be carried out as usual.

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CHAPTER TWO SEASONAL MIGRATION AND HUMAN ADAPTATK THEORETICAL ISSUES Human Adaptation Introduction An adaptation is, in the broadest sense of the word, a biological or behavioral adjustment that serves to benefit the survival or reproduction of an organism or population in a given environment (Little and Morren 1976:2). The process by which such an adjustment occurs, in most cases, is also known as adaptation. Such a broad definition encompasses the diverse types of adaptation studied by geneticists, physiologists, demographers, ecologists, and anthropologists. It emphasizes the interaction of organism and environment which all adaptive processes share. While many types of adjustments may prove to be adaptive in a given setting, they do not all operate by the same mechanisms. In fact, there are three basic levels on which adaptation can occur in human populations. Genetic or evolutionary adaptation is a process by which the genetic material of a population or group is altered crossgenerational ly. This is very different from acclimatization, which refers to physiological and developmental changes which affect individuals and occur within a single lifetime. Cultural and behavioral adaptive mechanisms are extra-somatic--they are not, in other words, properties of 51

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human anatomy and physiology. They reflect the use of the capacity for culture which has evolved in human beings to solve the biological problems of survival in a given environment. Although they are distinct, these forms of adaptation are not mutually exclusive. Rather, it has been hypothesized that they act in conjunction with one another to provide maximum adaptedness for an organism (Slobodkin 1968). Genetic and Physi ological Adaptation Natural se lection. The form of adaptation which most commonly comes to mind when the concept is mentioned is genetic change. Genetic adaptation operates through the process of natural selection. The basis of natural selection is that individuals with different genetic constitutions have different chances for reproduction. Those individuals whose genetic makeup is best suited to a given environment have more offspring and pass on more of their genetic material. Unless sudden changes in the environment occur, a population can be expected to become more and more adapted, or suited to its environment, over time. Natural selection is not, however, a creative force. It can only operate opportunistically on the existing variation in genetic material within a population. It cannot create favorable traits which do not exist. A pest, for example, does not become resistant to a pesticide simply by virtue of prolonged exposure. A trait which confers resistance must be pre-existent in the population before it can be the object of selection. The existence of variation, the selection of favorable variants, and the maintenance of these variants are the necessary elements of evolutionary process.

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53 Furthermore, while the changes brought about by natural selection are favorable with relation to the environment in which they occur, they are not flexible. A change in environment can, at times, render them useless or even harmful. Among American blacks, for example, the sickle-shaped hemoglobin cell which in Africa conferred resistance against malaria when heterozygotic, and caused death when homozygotic, lost its adaptive advantage in a malaria-free environment. It can take many generations to compensate for an evolutionary trend that an environmental change has rendered maladaptive. The inflexibility and long-term nature of genetically based adaptation is overcome at least in part in human beings by the capacity for short-term changes. Physiological and developmental adjustments are one such mechanism relied on by humans and other organisms to allow quick and often reversible adaptations to stressful environmental situations. Culture and mental processes provide an additional means of adaptation for humans, which is quickly mobilized and more flexible than genetic change. The capacity for culture has given humans what L. B. Slobodkin has called "an extremely high behavioral flexibility, in which the flexibility itself is a genetic property." Slobodkin goes on to say that "if flexibility is sufficiently high, it becomes almost impossible for gene frequencies to be materially altered by specific environmental pressures unless these are of extremely long duration and extremely great force" (1976:58). A stressful situation is one which produces a deviation from homeostasis in an organism. Homeostasis is the maintenance of constant internal conditions in the face of a varying environment.

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54 The circumvention of natural selection by increased behavioral flexibility has been beirioaned by some as enabling persons to survive who are physically, mentally, or morally weaker than the average. It is true that our cultural capabilities enable individuals to successfully mitigate environmental stresses which would otherwise prove overwhelming to some members of the population. But that is precisely the significance and value of cultural adaptation. It allows us to inhabit a far wider range of environments and to overcome many more hazardous and stressful situations than would be possible with purely genetic control. Acclimatization . Acclimatization, as previously mentioned, refers to short-term capabilities in humans and other organisms to respond to external stresses. Acclimatory responses, in general, act to maintain homeostasis, or constant internal conditions in the face of a varying environment. At their most modest level, such responses occur over a period of days or weeks, and are reversible. An example of such a change is the enlargement of muscles from frequent use. Dozens of body responses which occur on a daily basis, such as perspiration to reduce body temperature, can be viewed as acclimatizations of this type. A second type of acclimatization is developmental. Developmental alterations occur in response to environmental conditions during an individual's growth period, and may be physiological or morphological in nature. One of the most well-known examples of developmental acclimatization is the enlargement of heart and lungs in people who grow and develop at high altitude.

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55 Cultural Adaptat i on The evolution of a capacity for culture . In human beings, behavior often acts as a buffer against environmental pressures, and, unlike in other animals, such behavior is more often ordered by the principles of a given culture than by patterned instincts. The capacity for cultural behavior is a result of a long evolutionary process in humans. It was a process in which a central nervous system and neocortex of complexity unknown in other animals was developed. The development of these features did not occur overnight. As Clifford Geertz has said, there was no marginal genetic change that rendered humans capable of producing and carrying culture so that thereafter our adaptive response to environmental pressures was almost exclusively cultural rather than genetic (1973:47). As cultural behavior developed, and increased the complexity of the environment in which proto-humans and early humans found themselves, it forced further development of a cultural capacity. The use of tools, organized hunting and gathering practices, the beginnings of family organization and the reliance on symbolic communication such as language, provided positive feedback for long-term evolutionary processes. A selective advantage was given to those who were most able to take advantage of new cultural behaviors--to become more adept toolmakers, efficient hunters, or resourceful leaders (Washburn I960; Hallowell 1959; Geertz 1973). 2 Positive feedback refers to the flow of information or energy from one component of a system to another which readjusts and reorganizes the system along new lines.

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56 Culture is an evolved biological capacity which gave humans a tremendous advantage in solving biological problems. Yet it operates on principles which are somewhat different from the laws of matter and energy in the biological world. Culture is essentially an informational system, based on the recognition of significant differences (Bateson 1972). To behave culturally one must use codes and manipulate symbols (Pike 1964; Goodenough 1964; Hall 1959; Leach 1976). The sounds we utter in the simplest speech act bear no direct relation to the things about which we speak. They are systems of non-iconic symbols. While our capacity for this type of symbol manipulation has evolved, there is no evidence to suggest that culture itself does. Despite this fact, a good deal of anthropological theory in the past hundred years has centered around the concept of cultural evolution. Many investigators, impressed by the explanatory power of evolutionary theory, postulated that mechanisms similar to natural selection could be at work in culture. This idea, as it originated in the work of Herbert Spencer (1883) was based on the proposition that individuals or societies with favorable characteristics would survive and grow (or reproduce) while those with inferior traits would die out. Anthropologists have proposed diverse mechanisms by which a hypothetical selection process could operate. White (1959) suggested that increased per capita use of energy was the criterion by which certain groups achieved selective advantage. Lewis Henry Morgan (1963), Steward (1955), and Sahlins and Service (1960) did not attempt to specify a universal selective principle, but assumed a general evolutionary trend of increasing complexity.

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57 More recent attempts to deal with human adaptation in terms of a selective process for cultural traits are studies of "co-evolutionary process" (Durham 1976); "culture as a parallel system of inheritance" (Richerson 1977); "bio-cultural evolution" (Ruyle 1973); and "Lamarckian evolution" (Cohen 1981). These types of explanation reason that evolutionary theory is about process, and is independent of the genetic mechanisms which have been found to corroborate its operation. All that is necessary, they say, is to appropriately define cultural "traits" and cultural "species," and identify sources of variation, criteria of selection and mechanisms of retention. Once this is done, the study of cultural evolution and human adaptation can proceed by analogy with natural selection. The fruitfulness of this approach has been questioned (Dickemann 1981; Medewar 1981). Alland has noted that "analogies, however useful as heuristic devices, cannot extend a theory into new territory. . . . The operating rules of those process mechanisms that produce culture are not the same as those which produce biologically determined somatic or behavioral traits" (1967:191). Furthermore, reasoning by analogy in Alland's view gives culture a superorganic nature, and obscures the true continuity between biological and cultural processes. When cultures are set up as equivalent to species, he said, it is easy to forget the role that human beings play as a species themselves. The consideration of innovation as analogous to mutation is not only erroneous from the point of view of the great differences in the way the two processes operate. It also focuses our attention on an undocumented evolutionary

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58 dynamic in culture itself, rather than on the way in which innovations solve biological problems and thus confer selective advantages to humans by allowing more of them to survive and reproduce. The identification of cultural adaptations . In order to look at the interaction between environment and culture in a more direct way, most anthropologists felt it necessary to decide on certain realms of human behavior which were likely to be most closely related to survival in a given environment. Julian Steward (1955) suggested that the interaction of culture and environment could best be understood by focusing on a "cultural core" of items and practices most directly related to human subsistence. Different environments, he felt, required different technologies, uses of land, or social features in order to be brought into production successfully. These core elements of culture could be understood in relation to the environmental context in which they operate. Steward assumed that while environment had a strong influence on the elements of the cultural core, there were other superorganic aspects of culture that were more or less free to take whatever form people wished to give them. Steward's approach gave rise to the tradition within anthropology known as cultural ecology. The work of cultural ecologists has focused on ascertaining, in the words of Steward, "whether the adjustments of human societies to their environments require particular modes of behavior, or whether they permit latitudes for a range of possible behavior patterns" (1955:36). Most cultural ecological studies, following Steward's definition of "cultural core," have limited their investigation to a narrow range of patterns of technology and resource use.

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59 Little and Morren (1976) have criticized narrow definitions of the types of behavior tliat are related to human adaptation. They have suggested that researchers investigating human adaptation should have an interest in any "cultural and biological factors, processes and cycles that affect or are directly connected with the survival, reproduction, development, longevity, or spatial position of people." They note that "ample provision exists within this framework for the study of such cultural factors as ideology, values, motivation, linguistic categories, personality, ritual and the like, insofar as particular manifestations of these influence the interaction of human population with its environment or affect the biological characteristics of that human population" (1975:5). In a model for human life support structures. Little and Morren (1976) emphasize the role of such practices as marriage prescriptions and proscriptions, social rules that define sexual maturity, and beliefs that lead to periods of celibacy, in altering the size and structure of local human populations. Also included in their model are practices that modify risk of exposure to conception and that affect the probability of a successful pregnancy and live birth; practices that affect the speed and degree of physical and behavioral maturity, and those which affect nutrition, disease transmission and risk of death. Adaptive strategies which are relevant include movements in response to environmental parameters, agriculture and other practices which alter the environment to make biotic resources more available, strategies of

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60 exchange and distribution of goods, and practices which substitute the work of livestock or machinery for human labor. This model considers much more cultural behavior of relevance to adaptation than do most studies of cultural ecology. In particular, more attention is given to practices which affect the rate of reproduction and the size and composition of local groups. The demographic composition of populations was particularly neglected in Steward's definition of a cultural core (Moran 1979:44). Nevertheless, in attempting to specify aspects of human culture which affect survival and population growth, and in setting these apart from other aspects which are considered not to be relevant. Little and Morren (1976) create the same separation as Steward between the organic and superorganic realms of human behavior. They are only defining the organic realm somewhat more broadly. All aspects of a given culture are potentially relevant to survival in a given environment. This does not mean that all behaviors will necessarily be of adaptive significance, but it does mean that there are no classes of behavior that can be excluded from an investigation of adaptation a prior i . The identification of cultural behaviors which influence a group's adaptedness can only be determined in an empirical manner. Observation of the migratory activities of the Aymara of Sarata revealed that this adaptive strategy was organized by kinship and intracommunity relationships. The Aymara believe men and women to be equally strong and productive members of society, and this belief reinforces their flexible division of labor and the fact that each household member can

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61 make themselves responsible for the full range of productive activities in either the highland or the lowland environment. These aspects of Aymara culture are of great relevance to behaviors which can be shown to be adaptive. This is a point of view which has been expressed by Godelier (1978) with regard to the distinction in Marxist analyses between superstructure and infrastructure. He says that there is nothing inherent about a given behavior that makes it more or less tangible or more or less material than any other. The important consideration is whether the behavior can be empirically shown to be important to the reproduction of social life. Thus, Godelier argues, thought and language have wrongly been excluded from studies of production and reproduction, since they not only reflect reality but organize every kind of social practice on the basis of this reality . . ."(1978:764). Thought, which cannot occur in the abstract, but only in the context and with the tools of a given culture and language, not only perceives the environmental reality in which a population lives, but organizes the way the population will come to terms with it. Yet belief structures, language, and a population's view of the world, are among those cultural phenomena most often called superstructure, or superorganic, or otherwise considered irrelevant to human adaptation. Limiting the aspects of culture to be considered can also hinder analysis of adaptive processes by obscuring the interrelationships between cultural elements. As Winterhalder (1980) has cautioned, "culture, including the parts of cultural behavior that can be termed adaptations,

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62 rests on highly integrated and cohesive systems of belief, which can resist rapid alteration of isolated elements or groups of elements. Change requires systematic adjustments of multiple interrelationships of belief, behavior, and goals, all of which require time" (1980: 138) . This is an understanding which has long been part of anthropological theory, but which has often become obscured in discussions of adaptive behavior. Culture is not simply the sum total of individuals' predispositions and decisions, as some investigators have suggested (Bennett 1974). Culture has systems properties, and the existence of a coherent cultural system means that an individual can carry out most daily activities without having to stop and calculate at every turn whether a behavior is rational or not. It also means that an individual can benefit from the special knowledge or specialized skills of other members of his or her group without having to develop those skills themselves. Cultural beliefs and practices can be transmitted and do not have to be reinvented over and over again. All of these are factors which have given culture adaptive significance. Certain elements of a culture may not be directly related to survival and reproduction, but they may heavily influence other behaviors which are. Again, all aspects of culture are potentially of importance to adaptation, and those which are, in any given circumstances, must be empirically determined. The functioning of cultural adaptations . When studying cultural adaptive behavior, it is important to remember that some actions of people or groups are carried out with the conscious goal of remedying

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63 an environmental problem, while other actions affect their relationship to the environment in an unrecognized or unconscious way. Alland (1967: 205) has distinguished between teleological or purposive adaptations and those which are non-teleological . Teleological adaptations are those purposive behaviors which are often referred to as strategies. They represent the conscious planning and ingenuity of individuals or groups in the face of an environmental problem. The development and improvement of technologies, the decision to send some family members to the city to earn cash, the keeping of herds as a reserve fund, or the choice of a marriage partner from another community in order to diversify landholdings , all are examples of such conscious efforts. The analysis of teleological adaptations is often considered more or less straightforward. In most cases the persons involved can clearly explain why a particular action was necessary. When they cannot, it is often because the reasoning behind it is so obvious to them that it is not easily verbalized. Occasionally some, but not all, of the members of a community or culture may understand the rationale for a behavior. Thus, a given actor may perform an act out of custom alone, but the conscious reasoning behind it is known within his or fier larger group. It must be remembered, however, that the conscious reasoning involved is the reasoning of a specific language and culture. Environmental conditions are perceived through the grid of that language and culture, and the strategies designed reflect past cultural experience and do not necessarily have anything to do with Western logic. A further problem in the analysis of consciously designed strategies is that they may or may not be effective. In a given setting they

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64 may not be sufficient to meet a stress. This is most often true when the stress is sudden and new (Vayda and McCay 1975). It is also possible that the source of the stress is mispercei ved, that the response is inappropriate, or that the response itself creates new problems. Non-teleological adaptations present still more difficult problems. Moore (1965), Harris (1966), and Rappaport (1968) have all dealt with examples of behaviors whose adaptive consequences were unanticipated by their perpetrators. Moore explained the way in which a divinatory ritual performed by the Montagnais-Naskapi before hunting served to randomize game exploitation and prevent overhunting a region. Harris (1966) showed how Hindu religious beliefs which prevented cattle slaughter were beneficial, since other products provided by the animals (milk, labor, dung, etc.) were of greater value to the population than their meat alone would have been. Rappaport, in his study of the Maring of New Guinea, postulated that ritual served to regulate the slaughter and use of pigs. If it is to be assumed that these favorable situations are not the result of pure coincidence, then it is necessary to propose a process or mechanism by which they came to be. Rappaport proposed that in the 3 case of the Maring, a system of negative feedback maintained pigs, people, and environment in equilibrium. The ritual cycle of the Maring, in Rappaport's view, served as a sensing device or "homeostat" to begin a complicated cycle of pig slaughter and warfare which redistributed resources and restored equilibrium to the system. 3 A flow of energy or information from one part of a system to another, which allows for its return to a previous equilibrium state.

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65 This interpretation has been frequently criticized, most notably by Friedman (1974, 1979) who says that it is unnecessary to postulate such a complex regulatory mechanism. According to Friedman, the decision to slaughter pigs and begin warfare could have been, and most probably was, based on the people's perceptions of how many pigs could reasonably be accumulated, and on the level of social conflict. If cybernetic models are inappropriate, then the question of the way in which non-purposive adaptations operate remains. Richerson (1977) and Friedman (1974) have argued that such adaptations cannot be understood synchronically but that one must look at the historical development of the trait or activity or process in question. Practices or beliefs, which are adaptive in a non-teleological fashion in present-day situations, may have arisen as conscious attempts to solve past problems. Harris (1979:248-253) gives an example of this. In answering criticisms of his previous functional explanation of taboos on cattle slaughter, he presented the historical context for the origin of the custom. He related the emergence of the taboos on consuming beef to a period of intensification of agriculture in Indian history, when the labor of cattle as draught animals became vital. While the taboo forces a more energetically rational use of cattle at present, people apparently do not recognize the energy efficiency of the taboo but obey it out of religious devotion. It cannot be assumed in such situations that there is any mechanism in culture which assures the continued transmission of the adaptive behavior without a conscious recognition of its benefits. To argue that this is so is to rely once again on explanations based on negative feedback and non-verified cybernetic systems.

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66 Winterhalder (1980) has emphasized this point. He stresses that adaptations always reflect the action of pa st environments on the sociocultural information that gives rise to human behavior. For this reason, extant behavior only partially reflects or is fitted to present circumstances. People may retain past ways of solving problems posed by their environments, which are crystallized in their religious taboos, their kinship structure or their ritual cycle. As environments change, these solutions to past problems may not retain their adaptiveness, and new solutions must be devised. There is always a lag, however, and for this reason it is important that analysis of adaptations concern itself with historical process. As Winterhalder has said, non-dynamic analyses of adaptation risk matching observed behaviors to the wrong causes. Prior studies of migration from the alt i plano of Puno provide a good example of analyses which correlate present behaviors with present environmental problems, and thus miss the true causes of the behavior (Kuczynski-Godard 1945; Metraux 1956; Martfnez 1969; Instituto Nacional de Planificacidn 1979). As discussed in Chapter One, previous studies have always claimed that increased population pressure on the altiplano within the past thirty to forty years has made such movement necessary. The migratory movements, however, have a history which is far longer than the problems of population pressure such authors have referred to. The need to exploit lowland ecological zones is deeply rooted in the past and this suggests that some environmental stress of longer duration, such as low productivity and energy scarcity, has given rise to migratory behavior.

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67 Adaptatio n on the Southern P eruvi an A1t1p1ano Stresses and responses . The altiplano of southern Peru and northern Bolivia has often been cited as an important setting for the study of adaptation because of the number of stresses or problems which the environment poses for the human population. Vayda and McCay (1975), among others, have recently proposed that most adaptive traits arise in response to crisis situations caused by stress. On the altiplano , both short-term, acutely stressful situations and more subtle long-term pressures have led to adaptations on the part of the population. There are three basic sources of stress for altiplano dwellers. At altitudes of 12,500 feet (approximately 3800 meters) the partial pressure of oxygen is reduced to 60 percent of its value at sea level. At such reduced pressures, a condition of hypoxia is created for humans and other animals, in which body tissues do not receive sufficient amounts of oxygen. For non-adapted visitors to the al tiplano , this condition causes shortness of breath, dizziness, nausea, headaches, loss of appetite, and occasional mental impairment and visual problems. While other forms of climatic stress can usually be buffered behavioral ly to some extent, there are no such means for reducing the effects of low oxygen pressure. Cold stress is a second problem for inhabitants of the altiplano . In particular, body heat must be guarded against low nighttime temperatures, which may drop to 0"C (32°F) any night of the year. The third major stress factor is related to both low oxygen pressure and cold stress. These factors, together with periodic climatic events such as

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drought and hail and incidental factors such as poor soils, reduce primary productivity on the altiplano . This low biological productivity, or energy-deficiency, makes the subsistence situation for the inhabitants of the al tiplano quite precarious. In the 1960s and early 1970s a program of intensive research on human adaptation to high altitude was carried out by the International Biological Program in Nunoa, Puno, Peru. The initial hypothesis of the project were based on assumptions that the native population of the altiplano was adapted to life at high altitude and that this adaptation was largely a result of acclimatory mechanisms which had some genetic basis. Nearly two years of research demonstrated that this was not the case. What researchers found was a whole series of adaptive mechanisms operating at the levels of physiology and culture. There has been no firm evidence of genetic adaptedness among the population to date, although it appears to be experiencing strong selective pressures due to high child mortality (Dutt 1976). It was found that hypoxic stress was mitigated for newcomers to the altiplano by short-term acclimatizations. The most important of these is an increase in the body's production of oxygen-carrying hemoglobin cells. For natives of high altitude, acclimatization also includes a reduced affinity of hemoglobin for oxygen which allows it to be released more easily to tissues, and developniental factors such as an increase in heart size and lung capacity. These and several other short-term mechanisms allow the same amount of oxygen to be delivered

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69 to body tissues per minute for altiplano dwellers as for low-altitude natives at sea level (Velasquez 1976). Cold stress is responded to primarily by use of warm alpaca and sheep's wool clothing, by solidly constructed adobe homes, and by timing work activities to avoid exposure to nighttime and early morning temperatures. It is also mitigated by a slightly elevated basal metabolic rate, and a resultant wanner body core temperature, and by higher levels of blood flow to the extremities than found for sea level residents. All of the latter are physiological responses and do not appear to have a genetic basis (Little 1976). Energy deficiency or low biological productivity was not studied as intensively by Nuhoa researchers as the other stresses. Thomas (1972) established that the population was in a very precarious energetic situation. His research was carried out in a year of normal agricultural production and thus he did not observe the effects of periodic events, such as severe droughts, in reducing productivity, but only the constant reduction of primary productivity to cold and low oxygen availability. Thomas felt it likely that reduced adult body size and a slow and prolonged growth pattern serve to lessen the consequences of reduced energy availability. He also suggested that several observed behavioral strategies might be of value as buffers against the stress of reduced energy availability. These included a division of labor relying heavily on children, reduced activity levels, a multiple resource base, inter-zonal exchange, and migration. To better understand the nature of the altiplano population's current adaptive situation, it is helpful to return to a model proposed

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70 by L. B. Slobodkin (1968) which was mentioned previously. Slobodkin has suggested that cultural, physiological, and genetic adaptive mechanisms are integrated into a cybernetic system. His model is based on the suggestion of Bateson (1963) that there exists an economy of flexibilityrestoring mechanisms in which slow deep-seated physiological changes restore an organism's ability to use short-term, rapid mechanisms in a flexible way. Slobodkin suggests that an organism first responds to a perturbation or stress on a behavioral level. If this effectively relieves the stressful condition, no further change occurs. If the behavioral response cannot nullify it, then physiological responses will come into play. Reliance on these responses then restores a measure of flexibility to the behavioral level. If the perturbation continues unabated it will increase the mortality and decrease the fecundity of the population. This gives increased opportunity to natural selection, since genotypic frequencies will to some extent determine who lives and dies. While this decreases population, a large proportion of well-adapted persons survive, and this group, in turn, has had physiological flexibility "restored" to it. Any recurrence of the perturbation in the future would lead to relatively less genetic change. The genetic change, it must be remembered, does not represent an improvement, but is an adjustment to the disturbing event, made opportunistically on the basis of the genetic material at hand. This model provides a way of approaching the problem of adaptation on the altiplano . According to the model, organisms will deal

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71 with stress whenever possible with behavioral mechanisms which are the most flexible and easily mobilized. Only if these fail will other mechanisms come into play. The effects of hypoxia, as previously noted, cannot be dealt with on a cultural or behavioral level. Thus, physiological mechanisms operate to provide resistance for the highland dwellers, To date, however, there is no evidence for a genetically based adaptation to lack of oxygen. This is the area where the researchers at Nu'rioa most expected to find genetic change had occurred (Baker 1976:14-15). Cold stress, on the other hand, can be significantly mitigated by behavioral and cultural means, and is largely handled in this way by the al tiplano population. Apparently, however, the behavioral responses developed were not always sufficient, since physiological changes related to cold stress are found in persons who grew up at high altitude. The same is true of adaptation to energy deficiency. The diverse behavioral mechanisms suggested by Thomas are operative, as material presented in subsequent chapters will show. These mechanisms provide a significant degree of resistance for the population. Nevertheless physiological changes related to energy deficiency, such as smaller body size, do occur, and this suggests that the behavioral mechanisms have not been completely efficacious or have not been effective at all times. Again, however, no basis for a genetic interpretation of these changes has been found. Seasonal migration and adaptati on to high altitude . Theodos i us Dobzhansky has said that "every organism has an adaptedness to live in a range of environments. Adaptedness to only a single constant

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72 environment vjould lead quickly to extinction, because environments are not constant. Therefore, every living species is made by natural selection adaptable to the range of environments which it encounters regularly, or at least at frequent intervals in its natural habitats" (1977:182). It is perhaps in this statement that an explanation for the absence of genetic adaptations to high altitude among al tiplano dwellers can be found. Patterns of migration to lowland regions engaged in by al tiplano dwellers were documented in the preceding chapter for times of at least as far back as the Tihuanacoid Empire. Lumbreras (1974:40) and Lanning (1967:47) have described patterns of seasonal movement between highlands and lower valleys for some of the earliest inhabitants of the Andes. Lanning notes that the caves at Lauricocha in the Callejon de Huaylas in northern Peru, which date from 7500 B.C., were occupied seasonally. Their inhabitants apparently moved cyclically from the high altitudes at which the caves are found, to lower valleys and possibly even to the lomas or temporary oases, on the coast. Given such movement patterns, a genetically based adaptation to high altitude would not have made sense for al tiplano dwellers or other natives of high altitude areas in the Andes. It has always been necessary for highlanders to seasonally exploit lowland valleys in order to guarantee their subsistence. This is a behavioral adaptation to the environmental stress of energy deficiency. The longevity and importance of this principle are attested to by the fact that natural selection has apparently not given advantage

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73 to individuals viho are in some way better suited to life on the alti pl ano , but that adaptedness is achieved by physiological mechanisms. To continue the quote from Dobzhansky (1977:182), "inhabitants of the temperate zones have to survive winters as well as summers, and of the tropics, rainy and dry seasons." In the same way inhabitants of the altiplano have had to survive life in the lowland valleys as well as at high altitude. Genetic adaptedness to the latter would almost inevitably carry with it a reduced adaptedness to the former. Thus, an individual with a specialized genetic adaptation to high altitude would have reduced chances of surviving and reproducing were they to migrate to the lowlands to deal with nutritional stress caused by the energy-deficiency of their environment. It is in keeping with Slobodkin's model of adaptive systems that are hierarchically and cybernetically organized, that adaptation on one level feeds back to another in order to maintain the entire adaptive system in harmony. The Role of Energy in Human Ada ptation Energy in natural selectio n. Energy is a necessary component of all processes. It initially reaches the earth as sunlight where it is responsible for heating and producing plant food through photosynthesis. It also, in an indirect way, generates winds, waves, and the coal and petroleum reserves in the ground. Every process or change that occurs on earth is accompanied by a transformation of energy from one form to another. It is this broad understanding of energy, rather than a recognition of its specialized functions in nutrition, or as fossil

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74 fuel or electric power, which underlies attempts to relate it to evolution, human adaptation, and the functioning of ecosystems. Energy has many forms. Those that are most familiar are mechanical, chemical, radiant, and heat energy. Each of these forms has its own units of measurement in our scientific tradition. In all of its forms energy can be defined as the ability to do work. In all of its forms it obeys the laws of thermodynamics. The first of these says that energy cannot be created or destroyed, but only changed in form and quality. The second expresses the principle that entropy, or disorder, always increases in real processes; in other words, that energy becomes dispersed and of lesser quality in any transformation. While the involvement of transformations of energy in all processes is unquestionable, there is still a lack of consensus among researchers in various disciplines on the extent to which energy is determinative of those processes. In 1922, E. J. Lotka suggested that the efficient use of energy resources could serve as a universal measure of an organism's adaptedness. "In the struggle for existence," he said, "the advantage must go to those organisms whose energy-capturing devices are most efficient in directing available energy into channels favorable to the preservation of the species" (1922:47). This view is currently most closely associated with the work of H. T. Odum (1971). While it has not been generally accepted in the ecological or social sciences, it has opened the question of the role played by energy in the evolution and adaptation of human groups.

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75 There is considerable continuity between the view of Lotka and those of Leslie White (1959). White applied Lotka's assertion that the struggle for existence was a struggle for energy to human populations in attempting to develop a model of cultural evolution. He argued that culture was a material system and thus subject to the laws of thermodynamics. Cultures varied according to White, in their ability to harness energy as they drew it from outside themselves and incorporated it into their systems. By measuring their effectiveness at this task, he considered it possible to postulate a series of stages of cultural development which were linked to the type and quantity of energy use. Animal husbandry, he suggested, harnessed more energy than hunting and gathering; agriculture was superior in this way to animal husbandry; and a mixed agropecuarial system was the most effective of all. The universality of energy efficiency as a measure of adaptation, or of cultural evolution has not gone unquestioned. Colinvaux (1973) disagrees with the statement that animals and plants have evolved primarily as efficient converters of energy, since the pressures of natural selection are for survival and reproduction and not for any particular quality. While efficient use of energy is often a selective advantage, effective use of nutrients, insurance of mating, safe wintering, or growth and dispersal may be of great importance in any particular case. Vayda and McCay (1975) have reiterated this view and have extended it to human populations. They suggest that while energy may be the most important factor in survival on the Peruvian altiplano , or for sisal workers in Brazil, water may be for the !Kung, or resistance to the anopheles mosquito for the Tsembaga Maring.

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76 Energy as a li miting fa ctor. Many of the objections to the assumption that energy is universally maximized in adaptive processes are based on a concept of limiting factors. This concept was first enunciated by Justus Liebig in the 19th century as the Law of the Minimum. Simply stated, the principle is that organisms are limited by the factor in shortest supply. Eugene Odum (1975) has restated Liebig 's Law in a way that takes into account both energy and other factors. The success of a population or community depends on a complex of conditions; any condition that approaches or exceeds the limit of tolerance for the organism or group in question may be said to be a limiting factor. Although the quantity and quality of incoming energy and the laws of thermodynamics set the ultimate limits, different ecosystems have different combinations of other factors that may put further limitations on biological structure and function. (1975:108) In this passage, Odum distinguishes between the role of energy as a necessary force in all processes and its role as a factor which is in limited supply. While the former is universally applicable, the latter must be decided for each specific situation. This is similar to the point made by Slobodkin (1972). He differentiated adaptive effectiveness and energetic efficiency. Acts which are adaptively effective, like all actions, have an energy cost, but this cost is probably not of interest to an analysis of adaptation unless energy is limiting. "The conditions under which energy is limiting can be specified, but there is not any formal necessity for a connection between [adaptive] effectiveness and [energetic] efficiency. Effectiveness may or may not involve optimization of some function relating to energy" (1972:294).

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77 Slobodkin's distinction between effectiveness and efficiency has been used by Smith (1979:62-63) to show that the rate of acquisition of energy, rather than the use of energy in absolute terms, is significant to an organism's adaptation. In his view it is always adaptive to increase energetic efficiency. Energy-limited organisms, however, need to increase the efficiency of energy capture, while nonlimited organisms should increase the efficiency of energy use, in order to minimize the time spent acquiring energy which can then be diverted to other activities related to adaptive success. Odum, Slobodkin, and Smith all mention certain conditions that hold in cases where energy is a limiting factor, and suggest that the conditions under which energy is limiting can be specified. Smith says that an individual organism is energy-limited if, and only if, increased energy intake would positively affect its reproductive fitness; and that a population is energy-limited only if its growth rate would show a positive increment with an increase in energy intake (Smith 1979:59). For these reasons, the present analysis attempts to establish that energy is indeed limiting on the altiplano , before proceeding to an investigation of seasonal migration as a means of increasing access to energy resources. Population Move me nt and Human Adaptation Adaptive Movement in Complex Societies Despite the fact that migration is one of the oldest and most widespread strategies for the redistribution of human population with regard to resources, it has rarely been studied as an adaptive

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78 phenomenon. This is partly due to the sharp distinction which has traditionally been drawn between nomadism and transhumance as practiced by pastoral ists and hunting and gathering groups, and the rural-urban or rural-rural migratory movements which occur in modern states. While the former have been studied by anthropologists, who have at least to some extent turned their attention to sociological questions, the latter have most often been treated by economists and demographers who have worked with highly aggregated data and within an economic framework. This has led to a separation of phenomena which, in their essential goals and functions, are quite similar. Similarly, most societies in which energetic studies have been carried out have been relatively self-sufficient in terms of their resources. This is true, for example, of the Boreal Forest Cree (Winterhalder 1977), and the Tsembaga Maring (Rappaport 1968). Even when more complex societies are studied, they are often treated as though they were self-sufficient and without significant relationships to urban center or the national economy (Orlove 1980). There are many examples, however, of temporary and seasonal population movements which occur within the framework of modern nations and among groups which possess a considerable degree of integration into the national society. In these cases, certain segments of the population find it necessary or desirable to seasonally, temporarily or recurrently change their residence in order to guarantee their subsistence. There is no reason why adaptive strategies of population movement cannot be examined from an ecological perspective in complex societies as well as in hunting and gathering groups.

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79 Most studies of migration assume that migratory movements are permanent. While return migration is acknowledged, it is usually considered to be a permanent return to one's home related to a failure of the migratory attempt. There is an inherent expectation that an individual will seek fixed residence in a single location which will presumably be the place where his or her economic livelihood can best be insured. While permanent moves represent one type of migration, they are not the only possibility. As Stearman (1976) has noted, fixity of residence is not an ideal in all cultures, and the normal economic routine of many groups may involve a considerable amount of traveling. Yet seasonal, temporary, and continuous migration have been almost totally ignored by demographers, economists and others who have contributed to studies of rural-urban migration. As previously mentioned, strategies of frequent, more or less patterned movement, are generally accepted as having played a role in the subsistence of relatively autonomous hunting and gathering or pastoral populations in the past and they are recognized as still existing among such groups at the present time. It is widely assumed, however, that agriculture binds individuals or groups to a given locality and limits their geographic mobility. This assumption of limited mobility is extended to complex societies, v/hich are built on an agricultural base and need a stable work force for industry. Little and Morren (1976:23), for example, have differentiated population movement strategies from migration on the basis that migration is permanent in nature while movement strategies are cyclical and related to

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oscillations in resource availability. They associate movement strategies among human populations only with hunters and gatherers. Recurrent population movements do occur, however, as a normal course of events in predominantly agricultural and industrialized societies, as the migrations of saraterios testify. These movements vary in the manner in which they are organized, the frequency with which shifts in residence occur, and the length of time spent in each location, etc. Nevertheless, they all represent (as does permanent migration to the cities) a rearrangement of population with regard to resources to insure subsistence. They also represent, in many cases, an attempt to diversify the resources available to a population either through trade or direct access. Temporary Migration Temporary migration refers to a situation in which an individual, partial family, or family travel to another area to engage in an economically profitable activity or to trade. They may stay in the new area for months, or years, but they eventually return with their earnings or goods to their home community, which is their point of reference, and the place where they indend to live for most of their lives. The journey may take place only once in an individual's lifetime or it may be repeated a number of times. In many present-day contexts such activity represents an insertion into and retraction from the labor force of a national economy. Irregular participation in a national labor market has been noted by

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81 Meillassoux (1972) and others to remove the burden for a worker's continued subsistence, and that of his or her family from their employer, and to place it on the domestic unit. While this is true, it also represents a selective participation in the labor market. A subsistence base in the home community gives migrants more choice with regard to when and where to sell their labor than they would have otherwise. Temporary but recurrent migration to urban centers is a common pattern in much of Africa. Literally millions of Africans "spend their lives alternating between a period in the industrial center and a period in the rural village" (DuToit 1975:59). A frequent course of events is for young men and women to go to work in the city for several years and then to return home to marry. After marriage they are likely to return to the cities to work, often for several years at a time, in order to gain cash or goods for their household (Houghton 1958; Mitchell 1969). The final intent of the migrants, however, is to settle once and for all in their villages, and their values and lifestyle reflect this intention (Abu-Lughod 1975). Similar situations occur in Latin America. Brush (1977:39) has noted that nearly one third of all households in Uchucmarca in northern Peru had members who migrated temporarily to work on the coast, but who fully intended to return to their home community within a period of months or years. This is also the most common pattern for migration to urban areas among community members in the district of Sarata. Arizpe (1979, 1980) has described a temporary migratory process in Mexican villages which she refers to as "relay migration." Relay

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82 migration is a f)ouseho1d-based strategy in which the goal is to keep one or more family members in the capital city earning a cash income for as long a period as possible. Fathers go to the city while the children are young, but beginning at age 14, sons and daughters are also able to participate, contributing their income to the household budget until they marry. Arizpe relates the high value placed on children in the villages she studied to the need to increase the family's available labor force for this purpose. Seasonal Migration Seasonal migrants travel on a regularly patterned or cyclical basis to other areas to work, cultivate landholdings, or trade. The migratory journey is regularly patterned because it is almost always arranged so as not to interfere with the normal subsistence activities of a household or group. Like temporary migratory activities, seasonal activities often contribute a crucial part of the total subsistence of a household. Yet, as with temporary migration, the migrants may exercise a great deal of choice with regard to where and how often they will travel and what type of activity they will undertake. Wagley (1941) observed a pattern of seasonal migration in Guatemala. In this area, highland Indians traveled to take part in the coffee harvest on large plantations during periods of low activity on their subsistence plots. They had been making these journeys on a yearly basis for generations. Whiteford and Adams (1975) have described a similar pattern of migration from rural areas of Bolivia to work seasonally on sugar cane plantations in northwestern Argentina.

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83 People from northeastern Brazil migrate seasonally to participate in the sugar cane and cacao harvests on the coast. They also migrate temporarily to find work in rural areas of Sao Paulo or in the building industry in metropolitan centers. The volume of temporary migration from the Northeast waxes and wanes in relation to the amount of rainfall received in the area. When the disastrous droughts which are so common in the region occur, there is a general exodus. Northeasterners are said to return, however, at the first news that the rains have begun again (IJagley 1971:41). Halpern (1975) has described a variety of seasonal and temporary migratory patterns in Balkan nations. These movements are usually timed to correspond to slow periods in the agropecuarial cycle. They may take the form of trading trips, travel to work at specialized crafts, or seasonal brigandage, and the trips may be made over short distance or to places as far away as North America. Halpern found that groups who were most active in migratory activities were those who lived in mountainous areas where agriculture was marginal and who had previosuly become accustomed to a partially mobile existence because of the requirements of seeking pasture for their flocks. These groups began to adapt their customs of seasonal mobility to other economic activities with the expansion of towns in the 16th century. The various present-day strategies of vertical resource use in the Andes, such as that practiced by s arateiios , are another example of seasonal migratory movements engaged in by groups integrated into larger societies. While in pre-Hispanic times, verticality was

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administered most frequently by regional political units (Murra 1972), its current manifestations are usually controlled by individual households or communities. One such example is the pattern of vertical transhumance described by Stewart, Belote and Belote (1976) for the saragurenos of Ecuador. Family members travel seasonally with their animals to lowland zones in order to give them access to green pastures throughout the year. While the pattern is an old one, the option of selling the animals in regional markets has given an added incentive to the activity. Brush (1977) has distinguished three types of vertical resource use which are currently relied on in the Andes. "Compressed verticality" refers to a situation in which a family exploits several different vertically arranged crop zones by shifting their residence according to agropecuarial cycle. In this case, the crop zones are on a steep gradient and are relatively close together. Each family ideally has access to land in the yunga or low, corn-growing zone; the kichwa or intermediate tuber and grain zone; and the puna , which is the highest of the zones and is used primarily for herding. The residence which is considered permanent is usually established in the kichwa , midway between the other two zones. In addition to the work done by Brush in Uchucmarca, Uebster (1973) has described a resource strategy of this type for O'ero in Cuzco. The second type of vertical resource use described by Brush is "extended verticality." Gade (1967) and Burchard (1974) have described seasonal trips for purposes of trade which are representative

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85 of this type. On these trips goods from the high part of a valley are exchanged for products from lower zones of the same valley. The crop zones within which trade is carried out are contiguous but often stretch over great distances and there is no direct access to lands in all places by inhabitants of the valley. There is also a long tradition, throughout the Andes, of longer trading expeditions which are not limited to a single valley (Casaverde 1977; Custred 1974, 1977; Flores Ochoa 1977). A final variety of vertical ity is the "archipelago" type practiced by saratenos . In these cases the zones of resource exploitation are widely separated and the travel between them requires many days. Despite the distances, trips to the "auxiliary" fields are made as often as three to four times a year. Fonseca (1972) and Mayer (1971) have also described communities which rely on this strategy. In all cases the place of permanent residence is considered to be the highlands, where there is easy access to potatoes, grains, and animals for transport. These are but a few examples of present-day populations in complex societies whose subsistence is tied to movement strategies. The cases described would not lend themselves easily to analysis by theories of economic maximization or of income differentials, which are commonly applied to migratory movements. In many cases, cash is not the goal of the migration, or is only one of many goals. In many of the examples, the populations in question recognize that they would lose control over their nutritional base by becoming completely integrated into a cash

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86 economy, and thus they seek to maintain their semi -integrated status. As in the case of Sarata, diversification of resources is often as important a goal as is maximization of any variable. Neither, in most of these cases, can a set of variables which tend to "push" or to "pull" the migrants be easily identified. Migration is not an all-or-nothing, once in a lifetime decision, but forms part of an integrated strategy for the survival of the household unit. Many calculations enter into the decisions made with regard to who will migrate, when they will go, how long they sill stay, etc. A human ecological framework is effective in analyzing these types of situtations because it does not allow the researcher to take for granted that any one variable is being maximized. Limiting factors or variables must be empirically determined for each case. The survivalrelated problems which are faced by each group must be identified. The realms of behavior which are relevant to the solution of these problems and their cultural bases must also be identified. Ecological studies in anthropology have been criticized for limiting themselves to isolated groups of people whose integration into larger economic and political units is minimal (Anderson 1972). The present study hopes to demonstrate that the methods and theory of human ecology are essential to the study of strategies of population movement and of other types of adaptive behavior, in complex as well as in "simple" societies.

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CHAPTER THREE THE ALTIPLANO RESOURCE BASE AND PATTERNS OF SUBSISTENCE Primary Productivity and Production Geographical and Climatic Factors The altiplano is a high-altitude plateau which "extends with a gentle slope from the Western Cordillera of the Andes to the spurs of the Eastern Cordillera, prolonged toward Bolivian territory on the southwest and including the large depression of the Poopo basin" (ONERN/ CORPUNO 1965:49). In Peru, the a ltiplano is marked by the presence of Lake Titicaca, and for all practical purposes, can be said to be contiguous with the broad Titicaca basin. The altiplano landscape, and especially the northeastern side of the lake where Sarata is located, is marked by steep, mountain-like rock formations, or monadnocks, and by numerous narrow and protected valleys. The topography of the altiplano is important because the region's climatic characteristics are in large part determined by the land masses which border it. In particular the Eastern and Western Cordilleras influence precipitation, which falls from September through April and then completely ceases in the dry season from May through September. The rains come when air from the South Atlantic anticyclone crosses the South American continent and is forced up the eastern slope of the Andes. As it rises, the air cools and expands, losing its capacity to hold moisture. The resultant precipitation is responsible for the lush rain 87

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forests of the eastern Andes. By the time it crosses the altiplano , the air's moisture content has been reduced, and in descending from the Cordillera increased v;aniith and barometric pressure make rain less likely. Still, from late September through late March there is some precipitation nearly every day and this is what sustains altiplano agriculture (ONERN/CORPUNO 1965; Thomas and Winterhalder 1976:24). Around the end of March a low-pressure area over the Gran Chaco region draws the moist air of the Andean anticyclone toward it and an intertropical front from the upper atmosphere over Brazil enters the altiplano . The dry, gusty winds associated with the front dessicate formerly green pasture lands and leave the altiplano landscape brown and dusty. Average monthly precipitation for Sarata for the years 1961-1979 is presented in Table 3-1. As Painter (1981) notes, these figures are somewhat higher than for the rest of the altiplano . This is because the Cordillera north of Sarata is not as high as in some places, so cloud masses pass into the altiplano more easily, and also because the lake basin is narrower in this region which means that the air's moisture content is still relatively high when it reaches Sarata. The temperature of the altiplano is influenced by two factors. One is the altitude, which measures 3812 meters above sea level at the edge of Lake Titicaca and rises to well over 5000 meters in many parts of the Cordillera. The other is the tropical latitude of the region, ranging from approximately 14° on its northern edge to 20" at its southernmost point around Lake Poopd. The combined effect of these two factors is that the altiplano temperature varies little from season

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89

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90 to season, but vat'ies sharply during a 24-hour cycle. For this reason the Andes have been classified by Carl Troll (1968) as a "diurnal temperature climate." The mean daily range between peak afternoon temperature and nighttime lows has been noted as more than 20°C for the northwestern altiplano (Thomas and Winterhalder 1976). For the lakeside zone of the district of Sarata, which has a much more protected landscape, the mean daily range is 11.5°C or ZO.g^F. Table 3-2 indicates on a monthly basis the average maximum, minimum, and mean temperatures, and the maximum oscillation in temperatures, for the years 1961-1979. Maximum temperatures average 14.7°C or 58.5°F and minimum temperatures--3.0°C or 37°F. It is interesting to note that while maximum temperatures remain fairly constant throughout the year, minimums dip significantly in the dry season. This is partly a result of the absence of cloud cover which tends to retain daytime heat when it is present in the rainy season. The most extreme nocturnal temperatures occur in June and July. The eve of the winter solstice is said by altiplano dwellers to be the coldest of the year. On this night, bonfires are burned on hillsides in the district of Sarata "to warm the skies." Any basic description of the climate of the altiplano in general, and of Sarata in particular, must deal with the fact that life there is far more affected by the extremes and irregularities of temperature and precipitation, than by their averages and regularities. Table 3-1 shows that average rainfall for the month of January is 204.9 mm. If the data are examined year by year, however, one notices that the

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92 precipitation for that month can vary from 247.2 mm to 17.8 mm. Periodic droughts are an important fact of life on the altiplano . The crucial period for receiving rainfall is from November through February. This is the growth period for most crops, and too little v/ater, or too much in some cases, can wipe out the entire harvest. Lack of rainfall is usually associated with lack of cloud cover, so that drought-stressed plants are also faced with lower temperatures and frost. Because of low nighttime temperatures, frost may come during any month of the year on the altiplano , although they are most frequent during the dry season. ONERN/CORPUNO (1975) and Thomas and Winterhalder (1976) describe two types of frosts. Eighty percent of frosts are "static," that is they are simply the result of low nighttime temperatures. This is the least dangerous type, because it is of short duration. A second variety of frost, known as "dynamic," results from a polar cold front and is far more dangerous because it may last several days. Frosts are responsible for a significant amount of crop loss on the altiplano . Drought and frost are not the only stressors of plant and animal life. Severe hailstorms are frequent in the rainy season and pose a grave risk to developing plants. Low partial pressures of oxygen and carbon dioxide have a detrimental effect on plant development, as does low humidity, which results from high rates of evapotranspiration. Strong diurnal variation in temperature may be stressful to plants and animals, by interrupting physiological processes (Thomas and

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93 Winterhalder 1976). Some investigators feel, however, that this factor may actually give plants some advantage, since the large amount of sunlight they receive during the day encourages production of plant matter through photosynthesis, while low temperatures at night reduce its consumption through respiration (Schwabe 1968). Which of these theories is correct has yet to be resolved by plant physiologists; however, on the surface, altipl ano crop yields do not seem to justify the assumption that diurnal variation gives plants any great advantage. A final deterrent to productivity on the altiplano is the poor quality of the soils. They are generally characterized as "undeveloped" because cold and dryness inhibit the decomposition of organic matter which ordinarily makes it available to plants (Schwabe 1968; Papadakis 1969). Poor soils, low oxygen and carbon dioxide availability, low temperatures, and irregular distribution of precipitation are constant in the altiplano . Drought, hail, and frost, although sporadic in occurrence, affect every year's production to some extent, and occasionally wipe out an entire year's crop. Sometimes large losses occur several years in a row. This was the case during the early 1940s and late 1950s, periods when many families were forced to leave the altiplano , at least temporarily. The combined result of these constant and occasional stresses is an environment where the production of energy, and more specifically the energy available to human beings to maintain their life processes, is seriously deficient. Natural Life Zones Although the altiplano does not have the sharp altitudinal gradients encountered in other parts of the Andes, this does not mean that

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94 there is no ecological variation within its boundaries. There are, of course, innumerable micro-climates in any given area, which result from the unique sets of conditions created by rock formations, slopes and valleys, as well as by factors such as proximity to Lake Titicaca or other water sources. There are also, however, gradations of a broader nature. OllERU (1975) has mapped "natural life zones" throughout Peru based on the classification system of L. R. Holdridge (1957). Zones are distinguished on the basis of three climatic factors: mean annual biotemperature, mean annual precipitation and the potential evapotranspiration ratio, as well as on latitude, altitude, and the dependent variable of natural plant communities. In the district of Sarata as in most of the northeastern lake shore, three life zones may be distinguished. Most of the area bordering the lake falls into the zone referred to by ONERM as "subtropical montane moist forest." It is characterized by a moist and cold climate. In Sarata, this is an area almost exclusively dedicated to agriculture. Its natural vegetation has been replaced by intensive cultivation, but it appears to have consisted mainly of small woody shrubs such as quenuales (polylepis). Biotemperature refers to the daily average temperature between 0° and 30''C. It is calculated by taking the sum of temperatures above zero and below 30" every hour and dividing by 24. ^Evapotranspiration is the quantity of water that would be evaporated directly from the soil and other surfaces and that would be transpired by natural mature vegetation in a situation of steady state or climax in a soil zone of good characteristics and with optimal humidity content (OMERN 1976:2).

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95 Further north in the district is a zone classified as "subtropical subalpine v;et plain ( paramo ) ." It is soniev/hat higher in elevation, as well as colder and wetter than the "montane moist forest." In Sarata, this is the zone where a pattern of mixed herding and agriculture occurs. Natural vegetation consists mainly of hardy bunch grasses of the genera Stip a, Festuca , Poa , and Calamagrostis . Finally, in the far northeastern corner of the district lies an area of "subtropical alpine rain tundra." This is the area of greatest altitude, and it is the coldest and the most humid part of the district. No agriculture is possible there but large herds of animals are maintained. The natural vegetation consists of the bunch grasses and of cushion plants (largely of the genus Azorella ) . Each of these three life zones is characterized by a unique subsistence base in Sarata. Variation occurs in the types of crops which can be grown, and the mix of animals and crops possessed. These characteristics give rise, in turn, to differences in settlement and landholding patterns. A brief description of the characteristics of each zone will follow. The characterizations used by Holdridge to refer to the "life zones" he defined are somewhat misleading when applied to Sarata. The "moist forest" zone, for example, is not forest land but intensively cultivated cropland. It will be hereafter referred to as the lakeside zone. The "rain tundra" ecosystem is characterized by the absence of agricultural activity. It will, therefore, be referred to as the herding zone. Holdridge's "wet plain" life zone is a transitional zone between

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96 these tv;o, and tlius will be called the intermediate zone. The distribution of these zones in the district of Sarata is represented in Figure 3-1. The lakeside zone . The lakeside zone produces the greatest variety of crops and plant life. Twenty-four percent of the land area of this zone is dedicated to potatoes, almost entirely of the dulce or "sweet" variety ( Solanum a ndigenum ) . Nineteen percent is planted in minor Andean tubers: apilla (Oxalis crenat a) ; ulluku ( Ullucus tuberosa ); and isahu ( Tropaeolum tuberosum ). The Andean broad bean ( Vicia fava ) is grown on 25 percent of the land and barley on 18 percent. While in some parts of the altipla no people rely heavily on the native Andean grains (Thomas 1972), in Sarata and most of the rest of the department of Puno barley is more important. People explain that if a hailstorm or frost damages a barley crop, one still has good forage for the animals, while a crop of quinoa or kahiwa would be completely lost. The fact that Sarata receives more rainfall than other parts of the department of Puno also makes it more favorable to the production of barley. While by far the largest part of cultivable land is dedicated to these four staple crops, a wide variety of other products are grown in smaller quantities. These include peas, onions, herbs, garlic, oats, rye, and wheat, quinoa ( Chenopodium qui_noa), tarwi ( Lupinus mutabi lis ), corn, lettuce, turnips, beets, carrots, and spinach. In many cases these products may be used to give variety to a household's diet, but the vegetables may also be carried to town on Sundays in small

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97 x^^^Vy

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•r^ O 98 E ^ F

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99 Table 3-4. Average number of animals per household in the natural life zones of the district of Sarata Animal Lakeside Sheep

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OJ 4Q_ O rO 03 -M t-> +-> (d "a C O > C e o > c 100 00 fO QJ SS03 fO fO

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101 c o > c: c o > c: OJ [— -rro c o > c O .— r-~CO CM en r—

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102 Table 3-6, Approximate crop yields per hectare in natural life zones of the district of Sarata (kg/ha— wet weight)

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103 amounts to be sold to the urban dwellers or to people from higher altitudes who cannot grow them. Actually, by far the majority are purchased by urban dwellers who feel the need for a more diversified diet. Onions and carrots are the only non-native vegetables which are eaten with any frequency by rural households. The rotation cycle which is commonly practiced in the lakeside zone is potatoes, minor tubers, beans, and then barley, with an average of three years fallow before potatoes are planted again. Only irrigated land is cultivated continuously without fallow. Wheat or oats may be substituted for the barley stage, and guinea is usually planted in and around the other crops. Raised rows are formed prior to planting potatoes. They are reused for minor tubers, and if anything is left of them, for beans. There are a number of wild plants which are exploited in the lakeside zone. The most important of these are herbs ( culla ) which are used for teas, remedies and to season food; wild guinea ( ch' iwa ) which is eaten boiled with oil or lard and seasonings, and totora or lake reed roots ( chul lu ) which are eaten peeled and raw. The cultivated fields within the lakeside zone tend to be very small. The largest extensions are no more than a fraction of a hectare and the smallest may be only a few square meters. This has often been cited as evidence of population pressure in the zone. Patterns of land inheritance, which entitle all children of both sexes to an equal share of cropland have also been blamed for creating an impractical and unproductive landholding system. Extreme parcelization has been said to

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104 inhibit initiatives to modernize agricultural practices, v/ith the result of eventually forcing people off the land. It would be difficult to find a small farmer in the Andes, however, who would trade 12 or 15 small plots in distinct locations for an equivalent amount of contiguous land. The advantages of diversification of landholdings in minimizing damages from localized weather phenomena and in allowing fanners to take advantage of microclimatic variation have been described by Painter (1978), Brush (1977), Orlove (1977), and Thomas (1972). A typical household in the lakeside zone will have access to land in several communities. Some of this may be mi 11 i land, on the shores of Lake Titicaca where moist, richsoilsare deposited by the lake during the rainy season. Mi 1 1 i crops are planted in July and August and then harvested before rising lake water during the new rainy season reclaims the land. Potatoes, minor tubers, beans, and peas are usually grown on mil l i plots. Irrigated land in other locations may be used to realize two harvests of barley per year or up to three harvests of broad beans. Vegetables, wheat, and corn may be grown on sheltered plots where they will not be exposed to winds and frosts. Staple crops are scattered throughout the rest of the landholdings. Most lakeside households also have at least one plot in the intermediate zone. Bitter potatoes ( 1uk"i ) , and forage grains are grown there, and the site may be used for the freeze-drying of potatoes. Thus, the lakeside region is made up of a patchwork of tiny parcels, some 12 to 30 of which are typically owned by one household.

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105 Each household has a dwelling on at least one of its plots. In most communities these house si tes are dispersed throughout the community and not grouped around any central landmark. While every community has its school, meeting house and a variety of other facilities for the use of its inhabitants, residences do not tend to cluster around these places. The Peruvian Planning Institute (Instituto Nacional de Planificaci6n 1979) has estimated population for the lakeside region of Puno as 37 people per km , v/hile for the altiplano as a whole it gives a figure of 5 to 14 inhabitants per km . This estimate, however, is based on census data whose smallest unit is the district. The entire district of Sarata is included, for example, as part of the lakeside region despite the diversity which exists within its boundaries. Thus, while it is true that the district of Sarata as a whole has a population density of approximately 35 inhabitants per km , they are not evenly distributed throughout the district. In the lakeside communities, population densi2 ties of 200-250 people per km are not uncommon, which is in sharp 2 contrast to the 20-25 people per km found in the herding communities. Thus, although lakeside communities do not generally have aggregated settlement patterns, high population density means that houses may often be no more than 20 to 50 yards apart. A further consequence of the intensive use of land in the lakeside zone is that little land is set aside for animals. There is a generalized attitude that any land on which crops can be successfully grown should be in cultivation. Thus, animals are grazed exclusively on fallow land, and must be fed totora (lake reeds-Scirpus ri pari us and

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106 Typha an gustifo Ha) , 1 lachu (several types of water plants), or forage grains during the dry season. The average household in this zone has eight sheep, a cow, a donkey or a llama for cargo and perhaps some pigs, cuyes (guinea pigs) or chickens. In households with direct access to the lake, fishing is heavily relied on. The productivity of land in the lakeside zone is higher than in the rest of the district. Since rainfall is actually greater in the higher zones, it must be assumed that this is due to the warmer temperatures, and most importantly, to the related fact that there are far fewer nights when temperatures drop below freezing and when killing frosts occur. The productivity of the area is symbolically demonstrated when, on the 4th of December, the first fruits of the harvests of mi Hi land and irrigated land are carried to the church in homage to Santa Barbara. It is not uncommon at this time of year to hear people from other crop zones refer to the lakeside dwellers somewhat enviously as patak w atata ("patched belly"). When one inquires what this means, the response is that the people from this zone wear out their clothes-porque cada vez sacan sus cosechas de^ milli --"because they are constantly reaping their mi 1 1 i harvests." The intermediate zone . The varieties of crops which can be grown in the "wet plain" or intermediate zone of the district of Sarata are far more limited than on the lakeshore. Onions and other vegetables, wheat and corn disappear. Potatoes are planted in over 50 percent of the total cropland and barley in 34 percent. Broad beans and minor tubers cannot be produced. Even the potatoes and barley which are grown

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107 are not the same as in the lakesize zone. Over half of the potatoes produced are of the bitter variety (1 uk"i ) , which are extremely resistant to the cold and the frosts which occur. Because of the increased cold and shorter growing season grains do not always form fully and about half of the barley which is grown is used strictly for forage. The production of guinea is higher in the intermediate zone and kahiwa ( Chenopodiu m pal 1 idicaule ) , which cannot be produced at all on the lakeshore, gives a good harvest. The rotation cycle for this zone also begins with potatoes, followed by one, or sometimes two, years of grains. The fallow period lasts for an average of five years, and during this time animals are grazed on the land. There are separate pasture lands set aside, however, some of which are irrigated. This is because inhabitants of the intermediate zone compensate for the smaller variety and lower production of crops in the zone by an increased reliance on animals. The average household has 16 sheep, three cows, a llama, two alpacas, one or more burros and perhaps some pigs or chickens. When a piece of land is in fallow in the intermediate zone, all nearby landowners have rights to graze their animals there. This has been noted by Brush (1976) and Netting (1976) as a common pattern in theAndes and in other high-altitude regions. This is in contrast to the lakeside zone, where due to the scarcity of land available for grazing, rights to pasture on fallow lands are strictly guarded by the owners. The landscape of the intermediate zone is broad and open with few rock formations or valleys to break the force of the wind. In this

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108 zone the flat pairipjL (open fields) is the least productive area because it is most susceptible to frost. Hillsides are preferred, and the degree of the slope and the direction of the face heavily influence productive possibilities. The diversification of landholdings must take all of these variables into consideration. The person who controls a piece of sheltered land ( k'uchu ) , or of irrigated land, is considered extremely lucky. In addition, all families in the intermediate zone seek to own at least one plot near the lake in order to produce small quantities of beans and minor tubers. Although plots are owned in a number of different locations they are generally of a larger size in the intermediate zone. Unlike the pattern of tiny interspersed plots found near the lake, large expanses of pasture land are characteristic. The hillsides, in the growing season, are solid expanses of yellow-green barley which is ringed with hardier rye or oats for protection rather than patchworked as in the lower zone. Potatoes are found planted near the bottoms of the hills. Because of the lower population density, the houses of the intermediate zone are far more widely scattered than those by the lake. Even an extended family group who conceive of themselves as living in close proximity will probably have houses 100 to 200 yards apart. The space and privacy of such a settlement pattern are highly valued by the inhabitants of the zone, who find it difficult to imagine living permanently in the crowded town or the lakeside communities. In general, the people of the intermediate zone have fewer ecological advantages than their counterparts in the other zones. Their

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109 agricultural production is considerably lower, their colder and less protected environment exposes what production there is to greater risks from hail and frost. There are fev/er wild plants or herbs to be exploited, and except in a few streams, fishing is not a possibility. Yet a herd of 15 to 20 sheep and a few cows or alpacas offers little security in the event a crop should fail. Tv;o or three animals are slaughtered a year for the family's use and perhaps one or two are sold. Although animals may provide some security in a year of crop loss, they are not immune to cold and drought. Cold stress and frost may kill the young animals, and one of the most difficult parts of the years of drought, people say, is watching the animals grow thin and die for lack of food. The herding zone . In the far northeastern part of the district of Sarata, it is not possible to produce crops of any kind. Animals provide the sole means of subsistence. In the high areas near the eastern range of the Andes, llamas and alpacas are the animals most typically relied on. The northeastern corner of Sarata, however, has long been dominated by haciendas , which have emphasized sheep and cattle. Currently, these are the most important herd animals in the region. The emphasis on these animals is reinforced by several factors. While the wool of improved breeds of sheep brings a lower market price than alpaca fiber, each animal produces considerably more of it. Improved sheep can often be sheared every year, while for an alpaca there must be a two-year interval between shearings. In the case of cattle, extremely high prices are received for live animals by selling them

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no across the border into Bolivia. The average family in the herding zone has 57 sheep, 30 covjs, and nine or ten native camel ids. At the present time, about 25 percent of the land in the herding zone of Sarata is taken up by the northernmost extremes of the government-run SAIS, while parts of the three independent communities make up the other 75 percent. Two of the communities are formally members of the SAIS, but there has in fact been no relationship except on paper. The SAIS says it has no need for the labor of community members; thus they contribute nothing and receive nothing from the enterprise. The third community was formerly part of an hacienda , but now has the status of a freeholding community. The inhabitants of the herding zone have a reputation for their wealth. The Friar Lizarraga, in 1609, commented on the number of animals they possessed (1968). In the early days of the Spanish Conquest, the isolation and harshness of their environment served to protect the herders from the reducciones and the mit'a. Even after hacie ndas entered the region in the 18th century, they did not become propertyless serfs, but families were allowed to maintain personal herds of up to several hundred animals (Juan Lira Condori , personal communication). At the present time, the herders call themselves, and are known by others, as chullch u. Although this Aymara term refers specifically to people who make their living by herding, it also has connotations of "a wealthy person." The pride the herders have in their occupation and their wealth is expressed in a song they sing during the celebration of the festival of the Virqin of Candelaria in February. They first list all

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Ill of the products to which their animals give them access--ponchos, blankets, skins, dried meat, cheese, and so forth. Then they sing the following: Town dwellers Marka mistinakay you want young v icunas wariqallu muntaxay small and large you want chiku jach'a muntaxay them I will sell you young wari qallu aljamamay vi curias I will give them to you churanipamamay I have a thousand waranqa utjituy A cash income has been earned by the herders since the mid-1800s when they began selling their wool through the southern Peruvian city of Arequipa or their live animals through La Paz, Bolivia. Of greater importance, both now and in the past, are their trading relationships. The herders have traditionally taken advantage of the monopoly over transport provided by their llamas in order to carry on an active and constant trade between highlands and lowlands. Most households currently make six to eight trips per year to Bolivian valleys, where they trade woolen homespun andother woven goods, raw wool, skins, and dried meat for corn and barley and other products which they cannot grow. Trips are also made once or twice a year to the lakeside zone of the district of Sarata in order to trade wool and woven goods for potatoes, c h'uhu (freeze-dried potatoes), barley and beans. Trips to the Bolivian valleys are usually made on foot since there are few roads and it is easier to cross the international border without documents when walking. The trips to lower zones of the district of Sarata, however, are as likely to be in trucks owned by community members as by llama caravan.

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112 The settlement pattern of the herding zone is even more dispersed than that of the intermediate zone. Houses are usually not within sight of one another. Because the herds have to be moved from pasture to pasture and separated into several groups at times of breeding, birth and when there are young animals, each household must actually have several houses, where residence may be set up temporarily to care for the animals. Almost all dwellings in the herding zone are constructed of stone, rather than adobe, which is most commonly used in other areas. Productivity of the Zones The productivity of an ecosystem is affected by a large number of factors. For the altiplano . as we have seen, many factors exert a negative influence. Low oxygen and carbon dioxide availability, low temperatures and extreme diurnal variation in temperatures, frosts, hail, seasonality of precipitation, periodic droughts and poor soils all act against the productive potential of the region. The nature of most of these variables is such that they cannot be influenced by the introduction of technology, or new products. What is more, the unalterable factors—especially drought, hail, and frost--make heavy investment in improvement of the soils through fertilizers or the creation of motorized irrigation works an extremely risky business. Thus, despite the fact that much of the land in the altiplano is used for cultivation of crops and for pasture, its productivity is far lov/er than that of other areas where such activities are carried out. The concept of productivity is considerably more complex than a simple measuring of yields. Figure 3-2 illustrates the flows of energy

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113 (a) albedo (b) sunlight entering system (c) gross primary productivity (d) feedback to system (detritus, seed, etc.) (e) plant respiration (f) net primary productivity (f=c-d-e) Biomass: the total weight of living organisms present in a given area at any one time Figure 3-2. Generalized model of a primary productive system

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114 involved in the production of plant matter, or primary productivity. Sunlight entering an ecosystem drives the process of photosynthesis in which its energy is converted into plant matter. The rate of production of organic matter in this process is known as primary productivity. Figure 3-3 shows the energetic efficiency of this process as well as that of other steps in the productive chain. Part of the gross primary production (usually from 20 to 50 percent) is used in the process of respiration by which the plant maintains itself. Part is fed back into the productive process in the form of seed and decayed plant remains which build up the soil. The organic matter which remains after these necessary functions are taken care of is known as the net primary production of the system. This is the part which is potentially available for use by consumers. Not all plants are of direct use to a consumer population, and only a small portion of the total organic matter of those which are of use is actually exploited. The yield figures usually given for crops represent only the edible or usable portion of net primary production-the grain of barley, for example, or the tubers of a potato plant. They tell us what part of production is destined to become food for the primary consumers. Plant biomass is the total dry weight of organic matter present in a given area at a given time and it includes all parts, whether usable or unusuable. Biomass is usually more than twice the yield figure for a given area. Comparisons of the productivity of ecosystems are based on their net primary productivity or their biomass. Mann (1968)

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115 5,000.000 1.000,000 500,000 Autotrophs 2000 (a) Attenuation of extr^aterrestrial sun energy in heating the atmosphere and driving hydrological cycles and v;eather systems (b) Attenuation of sun energy to warm the ecosystem and drive its internal water and mineral cycles (c) Energy lost in conversion of sun energy to plant matter (d) Energy lost in conversion of plants to primary consumers (e) Energy lost in transfer from primary to secondary consumers Figure 3-3. Solar energy flow through the biosphere in kilocalories per square meter per year (From Odum 1975:62)

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116 has measured the biomass of relatively moist regions of the altiplano 2 as 0.7 kg/m of dry matter accumulated per year. This figure is extremely low by world standards. Table 3-7 lists the world average figures for biomass of cultivated land, grassland/scrub tundra, and for purposes of comparison, of tropical rain forest. Mann's (1968) estimate for biomass of the altiplano is close to that for tundra. Table 3-7. Biomass estimates for selected world ecosystems Ecosystem

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117 The intermediate zone has many more uncultivable areas and large extensions of natural pastures. It must be remembered, however, that pasture land supports animals, which also represent biomass and which provide food for the human population. As Figure 3-3 indicates, the transformation of plant matter to animal matter is very inefficient energetically. Since humans cannot consume bunch grasses and forage grains directly, however, the animals are a good solution to the productive problems posed by these areas. In general, less intensive utilization of land, combined with lower yields on land which is cultivated, is responsible for a biomass in the intermediate zone which is much closer to that measured by Mann. The herding zone must rely exclusively on animals to provide food for its human consumers, both directly and through trade of the animal products for vegetable ones. Both in use and productivity this zone has the characteristics of scrub tundra. Although the tundra is moister than is typical in other parts of the world, great extensions of land are still necessary to maintain the large herds of animals which give its inhabitants their reputation for wealth. The descriptive information on climate and productivity from all three natural life zones appear to support the assertion that energy resources are limited on the al tiplano . Far less of the energy received as sunlight is transformed into organic matter than in most other parts of the world. The fixation of organic matter is a factor beyond the control of the altipla no population. In Chapter Four, the effect of limited energy resources on altiplano households in each of the three ecological zones will be

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118 looked at in a more detailed way. The factor of low productivity will be integrated into the energy flow systems of the housefiolds in order to demonstrate its effects. In this way, the question of whether or not altiplan o houesholds have sufficient energy resources to survive and reproduce without outside subsidies can be addressed. It can be determined whether energy is only limited in a descriptive and relative way, or is a limiting factor in the precise ecological sense defined in Chapter Two. Consumption Preservation of Foods In the district of Sarata, providing the household with sufficient food throughout the year is the most important and time-consuming task of all its members. The mark of a mature person is the ability to plan the family's resources to insure that none of its members will go hungry at any time. This type of calculation or t antiyana (from the Spanish tantea r--"to keep score") must make allowances for the long dry season, which means that potatoes and grains harvested in May have to last until flay of the next year. It must also come to terms with the frost, hail, and drought described in the previous section, which can significantly reduce a year's food supply. Techniques of food processing are in many ways the key to subsistence in such a capricious environment. Potatoes may be freeze-dried into ch'uhu. This involves setting them out on a cold night to freeze, peeling them and then drying them in the sun for several days. The same process can be applied to apilla to produce k"aya. Tunta is another.

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119 more complicated way of preserving potatoes. They are first left out to freeze, then soaked in cold running water for about two weeks. After this they are frozen again, peeled and dried. The potatoes used for tunta are usually larger than those used for ch'uPiu . The final product is lighter in color and has a different flavor. Once processing is completed, any of these products can be kept for ten years or more without spoiling. Dried grains, such as barley, guinea , and kaniwa can also be kept for long periods, as long as storehouses are not invaded by rodents. These products are the waniya or "foods kept for several years" which see the family through the long period between harvests and provide insurance for years when little or nothing is harvested. A prosperous household is marked by its full storehouses, which may contain as much as 2000 to 3000 pounds of grains and 400 to 500 pounds of ch'uhu and tunta . Food Sources and Exchange The largest part of the food consumed by households in Sarata comes from their own production. Purchase, barter, and long-term exchanges of food play a role, however, in diversifying the diet and meeting food needs in periods of shortage. Between 7 and 12 percent of the calories consumed by households in the lakeside and intermediate zones of Sarata come from purchased food. The major items which are purchased are sugar, wheat bread, rice and supplementary vegetables and condiments. While all households use sugar, the frequency of purchase of the other products depends on the cash available and the distance

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120 from the market vyhere they are sold. Although they have become accustomed to them, people still refer to purchased goods as "vices" or "luxuries" and note that their parents lived quite well without them. In fact, sugar is the only item which has become truly integrated into the daily diet, and for which locally produced substitutes are not available. Barter may be relied on to provide another 5 percent or so of calories consumed. The supplementary vegetables and condiments (hot peppers, salt, herbs) mentioned above are often the objects of trade. While any agricultural product can potentially be obtained through barter, it is generally true that products of limited distribution such as fish, corn, fruit, beans, and certain anaimal products enter into exchanges more frequently than potatoes, ch'uhu or barley, which are more commonly available. In addition to purchase and barter, there are other types of food exchanges in which people may become involved. These are usually long-term relationships and immediate repayment is not necessary. They are referred to as ayni--a cover term for exchanges of goods and labor in which one party's obligation is deferred to a time when it is either more convenient for them to fulfill it or when it will be of greater value to the other party. The time lapse between the initial provision of goods and services and the reciprocation may be a few days or many years. The importance of such arrangements to the scheduling of labor has often been described (Mayer 1974; Brush 1977). They are also a

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121 comiTion means of redistributing food resources. If households have suffered differentially from drought or frost, for example, it is food given in ayni K'hich covers the deficit for those who were unfortunate. In less dramatic cases, ayni exchanges can be used to give families access to a wider variety of foods over a longer period of time than they would normally be able to have. A woman who has a cow and some irrigated pasture may provide cheeses for her neighbor during the dry season. When the rains come and all cows have access to green pasture and are giving milk, she may sell her cow and her neighbor will provide her with cheeses. Ayni arrangements involving food are also a part of migratory strategy. An older couple may not, for example, have the cash necessary to buy sugar or rice. They may have an adult son or daughter who works seasonally or permanently in the city, who keeps them supplied with these products. In return the parents provide them with meat when they slaughter an animal, occasional cheeses, and potatoes at harvest time. Another son or daughter may bring them corn and oranges from Tambopata each year in return for provisions to take to the valley. It must be remembered that in the herding zone, all nonpecuarial products must be obtained from outside the home communities. A far larger percentage of the diet is obtained through purchase, barter and shortand long-term trade relationships. Cash for purchases is obtained through the sale of wool, or in the case of cattle, of live animals. Wool and wool products, as well as dried meat and cheeses are the goods most frequently traded.

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122 Meal Composition and Patterns Potatoes and barley are the major elements of the diet in the district of Sarata. They are eaten in some form every day of the year, in all three of the productive zones. Table 3-8 shows the relative contributions which different foods make to the diet in terms of bulk and calories, and illustrates the important role of tubers and barley. Despite a coniDion reliance on these core items, the differing productive situations of the three zones mean that consumption patterns vary somewhat as one moves away from the lakeshore. The diet of the lakeside communities, in general, is more varied. It benefits from the large quantities of broad beans, minor tubers, and other vegetables which can be produced there, as well as from edible wild plants and herbs which are abundant in the rainy season. While these products are eaten in the intermediate and herding zones, they must be obtained by trade or purchase, or they are grown on small plots outside the community. For these reasons, the amounts consumed are considerably lower. Because of the larger proportion of bitter potatoes ( Solanum curtilobaum ) grown in the intermediate zone, its households rely more heavily on ch'uhu and tunta. Bitter potatoes are considered unfit for consumption until they have been freeze-dried. Therefore, approximately half of all potatoes grown in this zone dre eaten in freeze-dried form. The greater reliance on animals in the higher areas means that larger quantities of meat are consumed. While the average lakeside adult consumes less than half a sheep or the equivalent per year, an adult

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123 ro — .— .— O a»

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124 in the inteniiediate zone consumes a quantity eouivalent to a whole sheep or more. In the herding zone meat is consumed every day. In all three zones meat is sun-dried to produce ch'arki , vjhich allows an animal, once butchered, to be consumed over long periods of time. In view of the smaller quantities of meat available, fish is an important source of protein in the lakeside zone. Like beans and minor tubers, some fish, especially the tiny dried i^jri^, are traded for or purchased by inhabitants of the higher zones. Just as with beans and minor tubers, however, the quantities are relatively small. The daily meal pattern is fairly uniform throughout the district. Household members get up from 4:00-4:30 a.m. They usually spend an hour or so listening to radio broadcasts in Aymara from the coastal cities of Tacna or Mollendo or to Lima stations which play music from the provinces. During this time they drink a cup of heavily sugared majte (herb tea, usually from eucalptus leaves) or coffee, and eat one or more pieces of bread. The bread may either be wheat bread bought in the market, or tucitu--a fried bread made from barley flour. This meal is known as junt'u una or "hot water." By 5:00 or 5:30 chores are begun. One household member prepares the first cooked meal, which everyone returns to eat around 7:30. The morning meal consists of one or possibly two of the following: a soup based on potatoes, ch'uhu or barley, boiled cji'iimi ( ch'uhu p'uti); boiled potatoes (g"a^t_i); or porridge of barley, gui nea or kaniwa ( maska ) . The Spanish word for lunch, almuerzo, is used to refer to this meal, or any other meal which contains hot soup.

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125 At the same time that the morning al muerz o is being prepared, other foods are readied for the family members to carry with them to their v/ork places. Any one or more of the following may be included: boiled potatoes (q"ati) , boiled ch'unu or tun_t_a_ ( p"uti ) , boiled beans or corn ( mu t ' i ) , toasted beans, corn or barley (tostado), or quinoa which has been ground, formed into bite-sized pieces, boiled, and then toasted ( k'ispina ) These foods, which are called mirinta (from the Spanish merienda or "snack") are wrapped up and carried to the field where one is working or the pasture where one is herding. At noon the mirinta is brought out and all those who are working together share what they have brought. When everyone returns to the household complex, around 6:00 p.m., another cup of mat e or coffee is prepared. This may have some finely ground kahiwa flour (k ahiwagu ) added to it in addition to sugar. Again, one or two pieces of storebought or home-fried bread may be eaten, if available. The final meal is another almu erzo consumed around 7:00 p.m. This is nearly always reheated soup, porridge, or boiled tubers from the morning, although far less is consumed in the evening after v/ork. The sharing of food is an activity of great importance in Aymara culture. At meal times food must be shared with all who are present. If for some reason this is not possible, no one eats. When food is carried to the fields or to a community work project, each person does not eat what they have brought. Instead, at the given hour, people group together and place all their food on a large cloth, to be shared. Food is served to guests and family members with the formal invitation

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126 manq'aslnani , "let us eat together." It is accepted using the same phrase. To turn down food offered in this way would be a grave insult. At the end of a meal thanks ( juspajaratum ) "may God repay you" are expressed, not just to the person who served or prepared the food, but to all with whom it was shared. Seasonal Variation in the Diet The pattern and composition of meals remains fairly constant throughout the year. There is, however, some variation based on the agricultural cycle, especially in the two lower productive zones. The greatest variety and quantity of food is available immediately following the potato harvest in May. During the harvest, the customary mirinta is not prepared. Instead earthen ovens are built in the fields being harvested and the fresh tubers are baked in the morning for the noon meal, called papa waja . Papa waja is eaten with cheese, if this is available, or with p"asa11a , a kind of white or red clay which is mixed with salt and water, and used as a sauce. Fresh grains become available, not after they are harvested in March and April, but after threshing in June or July. June is also the month for processing ch'ufiu and tunta, and when a sheep is usually slaughtered. The colder temperatures make it easier to keep th" tiieat fresh during the butchering and making of ch' arki . In general, food supplies are high throughout the dry season (May through early September) . August is a m.onth of low activity in the agricultural cycle since food processing is completed and planting (except for milli

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127 planting) has not yet begun. This is a time when many trading expeditions are undertaken. Trips are made to Bolivian valleys for corn, and people from the herding and intermediate zone come to the lakeside communities to stock up on minor tubers and beans. On such expeditions kaniwa flour ( kahiwagu ) is carried as the main provision. It is mixed with hot water and sugar to make a thick drink or porridge which is said to provide strength for the trip. When one is too tired or cold to go on, a cup of kaniv/agu , or the flour eaten alone, is said to immediately refortify one. It is also given to burros or llamas when they become weak or tired. For those lakeside households that have irrigated bean plots, the reliance on stored potatoes and grains is broken in September by a harvest of fresh beans. Other than this, little occurs to vary the diet until November, wehn the coming of the rainy season and the greening of pastures allow cows to begin producing milk once again. Hi Ik is rarely consumed by adults, but some of it is fed to young children, and it may be used in porridges. By far the majority goes into cheeses. While most of them are sold or traded, one or two of the cheeses may be consumed each month by the household. Lakeside communities begin having fresh potatoes, beans, and barley from their milli land as early as December. The quantities harvested are usually very small, but they do serve to assuage the "potato hunger" which is experienced at this time. The warming weather of December and January causes what stored potatoes are left to sprout and go bad, so c h'uhu and tunta are heavily relied on.

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128 By February, food supplies are at a year-round low, although in the lakeside zone a broad bean harvest serves to diversify the diet somewhat. Despite the fact that food stores are at low levels, February is the month in which the cominq--and still insecure--harvest is celebrated. The Fiesta of the Virgin of Candelaria early in the month involves a slingshot duel in which the relative success of various productive zones is foretold. Both this celebration and Carnaval at the end of the month involve preparation of special meals. Ritual kin ties are honored by gifts of food. These may be a butchered and dressed animal, a basket of fruits and bread, or simply the best of what products one has available at the time. Relatives who come for the fiestas must also be fed. All of this involves a heavy drain on food supplies at times when they are apt to be at their lowest. It is believed, however, that an enthusiastic and generous celebration of these festivals--especially Carnaval--helps to insure a good harvest. The breaking open of fallow ground (q"ullina) in March is the most strenuous agricultural activity of the year. The meals served to ayni workers at this time are large and elaborate. They are considered a major expense in the recruitment of ayn i labor. People remember that after several consecutive years of drought in the late 1950s, they did not have sufficient food stored away to prepare these meals, and as a result, new land v/as simply not opened up for cultivation. Vlhen workers come to participate in any ayni activity, there is a mid-morning break ( kuk a qulli or qara aqulli ) at 10:00 a.m. in which

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129 coca and caramels are offered. A midda}/ meal is served--usuany soup and boiled potatoes or ch 'uhu--and then an afternoon break (jayp'u agulli of lunch leftovers, and more caramels or coca, is provided at 4:00. During q"u11ina ayni the noon meal consists of soup with meat in it. A sheep may have been specially slaughtered for the purpose. Slabs of cheese are placed on top of the soup, and everyone is served at least three bowls. After this, boiled potatoes, and boiled or toasted corn and beans are served. What cannot be finished is put aside for the afternoon break when it is eaten with more freshly boiled potatoes. These meals are remembered fondly, and are seen partly as an incentive to participate in a difficult job. They are also necessary, however, to allow people to keep up the exhausting and backbreaking work of q"ulliha on a daily basis for up to six weeks. Ideally, q"ulliha is finished by mid-April when the grain harvest is already underv;ay. Besides the large meals associated with Candelaria and Carnaval in February, there are other occasions when special ritual or festive foods are served. The quinoa harvest begins in riarch and thus specially prepared quino a dishes are associated with the festivities of Holy Week. The favorite is p'isoi which is a porridge made by boiling the whole grains of quinoa before it is ground into flour. Deep fried meat, or chicharrones , are associated with the festivals of San Juan in June and Santa Rosa de Lima in August. For All Saints Day (November 1) dolls, horses, and other objects are formed from bread dough and baked, and are carried to the graves of one's deceased relatives. There they are eaten along with raw sugar cane, popped corn, store-bought crackers and

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130 much alcohol in order to "feast the dead." While wheat flour is preferred for the bread toys, barley flour or quinoa are also used. The diet of the herding zone is obviously not as closely tied to the agricultural cycle as that of the other two zones. Meat is available throughout the year and corn and grains are also available year-round from the frequent trips to the Bolivian valleys. Only vegetable products are subject to the yearly cycle. Large supplies of tubers, chuhu and beans are obtained from the lakeside zone in the dry season, when they are readily available. These supplies must last through the rest of the year. Food Beliefs The people of Sarata recognize the potato as the basis of their subsistence. When they are asked what is the most important food it is consistently the answer given. Despite the fact that it forms such a small part of the diet of Sarata, people often say that quinoa is their favorite food. It is a food associated with fiestas and is one of the most appropriate gift foods for ritual kin. In fact, some occasions, such as a child's first haircutting or rutuchi , require that k'i spina , called in this context wawa ch'ix ma, "child's pillow," be given to the godparents of the ceremony. Other foods frequently mentioned as favorites are supplemental items such as oranges and hot peppers. All foods have a high level of symbolic importance. Painter (1979) has shown that foods, like mountains, rivers, and the sun, are personified in Aymara ritual. All foods have ritual names. Food in general, for example, is manq'a but in ritual it is mamata , "what is

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131 from our mother (the earth)." Quinoa ( jup"a in Aymara) becomes ki'nuwamama ; beans ( jawasa ) become ch'uqupa , barley (siwara from the Spanish cebada ) becomes susulla and potatoes ( ch'uqi ) become i spall a, referring to potatoes which grow joined as twins. Throughout its harvesting, processing, storage and preparation, food is treated with great care. Janiw quri jachayanati is a common saying. Stored food is referred to as gold, and the phrase translates "don't make the stored food cry." This means that food should never be taken for granted, mishandled, wasted or thrown out for no reason. Evaluati on of the Altiplano Diet In the past few years there have been several evaluations of the diet of the Peruvian altiplano . Mazess and Baker (1964) carried out the first nutritional study in Puno, in the district of Nunoa, northwest of Lake Titicaca and approximately 100 kilometers from Sarata. The subsistence base of NuRoa district is mixed herding and agriculture and ecologically it corresponds to Sarata 's intermediate zone or "subalpine, subtropical wet plain" (Thomas 1976:41). Mazess and Baker surveyed 39 community and hacienda households, during the month of July. In Nuhoa, as in Sarata, this is the time of the year when food supplies are at their highest. Data in this survey was not broken down by age and sex, but the average daily caloric intake was recorded at 3170 calories per person. This figure appears high, for when the normal differences in adult and child consumption are taken into account, it would mean that adults were consuming at least 4000 calories per day (Thomas 1972:11). Mazess and Baker concluded that the Nunoa diet was

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132 probably qualitatively and quantitatively "adequate," with the only serious deficiency being in Vitamin A. Picon-Reategui (1963) reported that Peruvian miners living at 4400 meters consumed 3700 calories per day. In a study at Nuhoa, limited to young adult males, the same researcher found that FAO recommendations for caloric intake (2764 calories per day) were approached in their diets (Picdn-Reategui 1968). A study carried out by Gursky (1969), also in Nufioa, produced some very intresting results. In this investigation, carried out in July, 22 households were surveyed in three locations: the town of Nunoa, a nearby haciend a, and a free-holding community. The results of this survey, along with those of the other studies described are found in Table 3-9. Gursky's survey data were broken down into age groups and by sex. The hacienda sample had by far the lowest caloric consumption for all age groups of both sexes. Somewhat higher figures were reported for the town of Nuhoa. The highest values were consistently found in the free-holding community. This pattern was interpreted by Thomas (1972) as being related to the fact that members of the community were participating in a roadbuilding project at the time the survey was being carried out. He suggested this made greater caloric consumption necessary. Roadbuilding activities as observed in Sarata, however, were no more strenuous than agricultural activities. In fact, because the work is for some unknown party and is either unreimbursed (a form of taxation), or reimbursed in cash or goods, workers tend to stretch out the job, taking longer

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133

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134 breaks and working less quickly than they would were the task for themselves. A more reasonable explanation for the differences noted by Gursky for the three locations is the direct control community members exercise over their food resources (Gursky 1969). Gross and Underwood (1971) have described how, as populations move away from subsistence agriculture, they can face a decline in the nutritional standards of the family. Community members in Sarata recognize the security provided by their ties to the land. It is to guarantee food for the household that they continue to work land on the altiplano when they migrate seasonally to the Tambopata Valley or to the cities. It seems likely that the lower caloric intakes Gursky (1969) reported for the town and the hacienda are related to the fact that these populations were forced to purchase for larger percentages of their food--a minimum of 48.7 percent in the town and 45 percent on the hacienda , as compared with 2 percent in the community (Picdn-Re^tegui 1976:217). Thomas (1972) resurveyed seven of the 22 households observed by Gursky (1969). Mis survey included three families from the town, two from the hacienda , and two from the free-holding community, although the dietary data are not broken down by location. The consumption figures collected by Thomas fell far below FAO recommendations adjusted for the Andean population. In fact, when compared with the data he gathered on energy expenditure, they appeared to reflect a negative caloric balance. This is true even though his survey of the diet did not cover that period of the year when food supplied were lowest.

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135 Thonias (1972) explained this situation by saying that the population was either living off reserves of body fat, or expending lov-jer levels of energy than was previously thought. Since crop yields for the year studied were normal and skinfold measurements suggested a population in a normal caloric balance, he felt the second explanation was more likely. Both Thomas and Picon-Reategui (1976) have since argued that the altiplano population adapts to low consumption levels by the maintenance of low levels of activity. This was most decidedly not the case in the communities of the district of Sarata. The energy expenditure data provided by Thomas, and the description of productive activity given by Picdn-Reategui do not specify whether the households observed were in the town, the hacienda or the community. It is unclear during what times of year and in what way observations were made. There would clearly be differential rates of activity for town, hacienda and community dwellers, as there would be between people who are primarily agriculturalists and those who are primarily herders. Community dwellers are likely to have the highest caloric consumption because they control their own food supply, and they are also the group, at least in Sarata, whose caloric expenditures are the greatest. It may be the failure to link distinctive consumption patterns with distinctive work patterns which caused Thomas' (1972) values for caloric balance to appear negative or near negative. If consumption data were weighted toward the town and hacienda (which they were) and labor expenditure was calculated on the basis of tasks performed in

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136 communities, then there would certainly be a large caloric discrepancy. An evaluation of diet and energy expenditure cannot fail to take into consideration the kinds of social and economic structures in which the survey population is integrated. There are two other reasons that Thomas (1972) may have recorded such low values for caloric consumption. Picdn-Reategui (1975:213) notes that natives of the district of Nunoa generally consume two meals a day. He goes on to say, however, that people who eat two daily meals usually have "supplementary foods, such as boiled potatoes, toasted maize or toasted barley. This habit of supplemental food intake is common in people who must work out of doors away from the settlement (in agricultural or herding labor), and is usually not recorded in food consumption surveys." If the midday meal, and possibly morning and evening mate s with sugar, kahiwa flour and bread, were not included in the diet surveys, nearly half the daily caloric intake would be overlooked. Finally, it is important to remember that the population of the altiplano has been taxed in food goods since before the Spanish Conquest. Corn, ch'uh u, and meat were provided to the early Spanish encomenderos just as to the Incas before them. Payments of food continue to be required by local government officials to the present day, although there is not necessarily a legal basis for such actions. Since stored food represents a family's only means of assuring its members' survival through years of drought or other types of crop damage, questions about food resources can be extremely sensitive ones. An outsider who comes to a community and asks to be allowed to measure food consumption is likely to be met with suspicion if not

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137 hostility. It is also likely that a family would attempt to minimize its consumption in front of investigators since any demonstration of abundance to povyerful outsiders might result in a demand for payment or a tax. This v^as consistently found to be a difficulty in Sarata, and may also have played a role in the low values obtained by Thomas (1972). The estimated daily caloric consumption for adult male community members in Sarata is 3500 calories. While intakes are lower than this from November through February, they rise during the planting season and stay high through the dry season when stores are high and when processing activities, migratory activities, trade trips and ocmmunity work projects are carried out. Similar levels are maintained during planting. This figure is close to that obtained by Gursky for the free-holding community in Nuhoa and given the level of energy expenditure of the population these values appear far more reasonable than those obtained by Thomas. The evidence from metabolic studies is that a higher caloric intake is necessary at high altitude to maintain normal body weight and perform normal activities (Picdn-Reategui 1976:224). Thus, it appears unlikely that a high altitude population would show no apparent deficiency diseases and have adequate reserves of body fat, on caloric intakes far below FAO requirements. Neither Thomas (1972) nor Baker et al . (1968) report widespread deficiency diseases in Nuhoa. Interviews with medical personnel of the health post in Sarata revealed that such diseases were not a serious problem there. Cases of undernourishment in Sarata were always related to breakdowns in the social network for the provision of food--older people who did not receive help in cultivating from their children who

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138 had migrated, for example, or children whose father had migrated and whose mother became ill or died. Except in years of heavy crop loss it appears that a diet adequate in calories and protein is maintained in Sarata. While the diet of Sarata was not analyzed for the adequacy of other elements, it appears that supplemental foods play an important role in meeting these nutritional requirements. P"asa11a , or clay sauce used for baked potatoes, for example, is high in calcium, as is lluxta , a type of ash chewed with coca (Mazess and Baker 1964). While tubers and grains alone probably meet iron requirements, the consumption of animal organs and blood supplement iron intakes. Wayk'a (hot peppers) brought up from the Tambopata Valley, as well as carrots, are important sources of Vitamin A. Potatoes are rich in ascorbic acid, but supplemental vegetables and oranges augment its consumption. Thiamine, niacin, and riboflavin appear to be provided in adequate quantities by potatoes and grains. Food Distribution within the Household The principle for the distribution of food within an Aymara household is that those who work, eat more. One of the strongest criticisms of another family member is to call them manq'a q'ara , which can be roughly translated as "eats for nothing." Because men and women share equally in agricultural work, they are entitled to equal shares of food. Children generally are nursed until they are two and a half to three years old, with soft foods given to supplement nursing from an

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139 early age. After weaning, they are served along with adults. They usually receive a somewhat smaller portion than adults but then are given as many refills as they ask for. Children are never, however, "begged to eat." It is assumed they will learn to recognize their own food needs, and will eat according to their hunger. Older family members usually perform more sedentary tasks and their consumption tends to taper off with age along with their activity. Energy Expenditure T he Division of Labor In all societies certain types of productive tasks are allocated to particular types of people. It is this fundamental cooperation which binds individuals together into families and which leads to the formation of other more complex units of social organization. Among the Aymara of Sarata, the division of productive labor is quite flexible. While households could not maintain themselves without the labor contributions of each member of the family, a good deal of interchangeabil ity of tasks and responsibilities is maintained. This is especially true for male and female adult household members. Children, older people, or those who otherwise cannot perform the full range of productive tasks, do work which is suited to their particular abilities. Specialists within communities are few. Items such as woven goods, clothing or basketry, are either made within the household, or bought from the local commercial center. Examples of the types of productive tasks performed by males and females in Sarata communities are given in Table 3-10. Both males

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140 ' — 4-> O cn E o 5 o o :5 a: D-.QJ cl»— X soj O QJ c . — O QJ -— »— X Cl O a' c u o — -— O Cl C TD or oj o 1^ 13 ir: re cQ n= o

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141 ^ o c: dj > -^ — rj a jz ^ -31 "a >.. ^
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142 and females participate in agricultural activity. Within this general realm, men are generally felt better able to manage the Andean foot plow or wiri and their labor is also preferred to pull the larger metal tipped v/ooden plov/ in the process called jacji arma . Women are felt to be better at harvesting and at other jobs that require stooping or short quick movements. Most agricultural activities such as plowing and planting are actually performed by work teams composed of both sexes. In the initial plowing ( q"ulliha ) , tvjo men ideally break open a strip of fallow land with their plows, while a woman lifts and pushes the dirt they have loosened to either side, forming the surcos or rows to be planted. Planting is preferably done by a man and a woman, the men opening the ground with a plow, the woman inserting the seed. It is often not possible, however, to carry out these activities in the preferred manner, i.e., with both sexes present. In such cases, women may use both the foot plow and large plow and they may be the ones who break the ground in planting. When a female member of a work team is lacking, men may move the earth in q''ul lina, or insert the seed when planting. In other types of agricultural activities, such as cutting and threshing grains, gathering to torji , or carrying the seed or harvest, tasks have no association with either sex. These activities are simply performed by the person for whom it is more convenient at the time. Tion-agricul tural activities are also shared by women and men. Both sexes are equally associated with the care of the animals. Both men and women spin, weave, knit, crochet, and sew, although there are

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143 some differences in the items they produce. Men weave a rough, homespun wool cloth and sew their own clothes and women's pull era skirts from it. They also weave lunch cloths ( inkuha ) , poncho s, blankets, and large woolen sacks ( costales ) . They knit wool hats ( ch 'ul l u) , scarves, and sweaters for themselves and their children. Women weave their carrying cloths (wayasa) , lunch cloths ( inkuha ) , and blankets. They spin and knit sweaters and make other clothing for themselves and their children. Women are considered the best weavers and people contrast the wayasa , which are often intricately patterned, with the homespun made by men as evidence. Both men and women travel to trade and engage in commerce, but by far the largest number of commercial ists are women. It is usually women who manage the household's money and make decision about purchases or sales. If goods are carried to market it is the woman who sells them. Cooking for the household is usually done by the woman unless for some reason she cannot be home. In periods of separation, such as during the periods of seasonal migration, both men and women cook for themselves. Responsibilities for the care of the children are equally divided except while a child is still nursing. Even during this period fathers will sometimes care for the baby for short periods. Child care activities are minimized, however, in several ways. First, children too young to walk accompany the mother in a wa yasa , or carrying cloth, on her back. Carried in this way the child can be with her throughout the day--whether she is herding, engaging in agricultural activity, or

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144 marketing. If a woman is performinc] a task in which it is impossible to continue to carry the child, such as in most agricultural labor, she sets it between soft bundles in a place where it can be easily watched. Older children are extensively relied on to care for their younger siblings. By the time a child is four years old it is considered capable of watching a younger child if a parent is nearby. While at this age it can do little to protect or care for the baby, it can shout for an adult in the event of a problem. By the time a child is seven or eight years old, he or she is felt fully capable of handling child care responsibilities. Children take responsibility for themselves and begin to engage in productive activity at a very early age. By the time they are four, children require little attention from their elders and by age six, they are beginning to actively participate in household tasks: herding, carrying water, and firewood on occasion, gathering animal dung and running errands. Children are usually very proud to assume such responsibilities since their parents convey to them that their activities are of real value to the household. Thus, while the child's tasks are often integrated with play, the child knows that the jobs are important and cannot be neglected. As they grow older, progressively more difficult and responsible tasks are given to children. Spinning and weaving are taught and they may be sent on longer or more compliecated errands. The amount of time which children spend helping their parents depends, of course, on whether or not they go to school and this, in turn, depends on the distance

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145 to the schoolhouse, the valuation of education by the parents (which is usually high) as well as on the degree to which the children's labor participation is essential. Children are not expected to perform heavy agricultural labor until they are ten to twelve years old and are not considered capable of v;orking like an adult until they are 15 or more. Full participation in such labor is marked by the acceptance of the child's work as payment in full for an ayni obligation. This marker of adult status is eagerly sought by young people. The labor expenditure of older people in Aymara communities varies widely. If a couple has many children who have remained in the community, they will probably be able to rely on them to perform most of their heavier agricultural tasks, in return for less strenuous services such as cfiild care or food processing. The health of the person is obviously a factor of great importance, with some people continuing to perform heavy work until well into their nineties while others must give up all but sedentary tasks at a far earlier age. It should be noted that a person never gives up work completely. Older family members who cannot perform heavy tasks may sort seed during planting, winnow grains which have been threshed, or cook for the others, but they always are included in work activities in some way. The same is true for family members who are disabled or handicapped. They are always integrated into the productive system. This not only reflects a real need for their labor participation, but also the Aymara attitude that one validates one's status as an adult and

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146 position in the community by performing useful vjork. Participation in productive activity gives the minimum standing necessary to enter into essential relationships of reciprocity. A person who depended completely upon others for his or her subsistence would be considered something less than a full human being. Exchanges of Labo r Arrangements for the exchanges of labor are widespread in the Andes and are essential in the communities of Sarata. Such exchanges are mechanisms which allow their users to come to terms with variations in the supply of and demand for labor at the household level. Annual fluctuations in the demand for labor based on the agricultural cycle are one example of such variation. The exchange of productive work enables individuals to plow, plant, and harvest their lands at the appropriate time. Micro-variation in the climate of the altipla no assures that even within a particular ecological zone, the "appropriate time" to perform an activity will not be the same for everyone's fields. Another type of variation with which labor exchanges deal successfully is the differential access to land, labor, and cash which households experience at different times in their developmental cycle. At some points in its existence a household may have more land than it can v;ork with the labor it has available. Perhaps both members of a young couple have received their full inheritance before any of their children are old enough to help work the land, for example. In this case, they may enter into sharecropping arrangements ( wak"i ) with some of it. Such arrangements usually involve one party providing a piece

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147 of land while the other provides labor, seed, and any other inputs with the harvest divided equally between the two. Many young couples, however, do not receive their full inheritance in land until later in life, and they may experience a need to enter into wak"i arrangements in order to gain access to that resource. A household with grown, but not yet independent children often finds itself in a favorable situation with regard to labor, and some of its members may decide to work for others in return for cash ( mink 'a ) . If, however, these young adults later migrate, either to Tambopata or the cities, it is likely that their parents would find themselves short of labor and they would have to hire mink 'a labor with the money sent to them by their absent children. The most common and most important form of labor exchange in Sarata communities is ayni , which was explained previously with reference to exchange of food. The basic principle of ayni is that a person reciprocates for an initial prestation of labor (or goods) at a time when it is either easier for them to fulfill it or when the reciprocation will be of greater value to the other party. Ayni is a way of dealing with the climatic variation mentioned, and with the demand for a large work force at certain critical times of the yeetr. It is relied on to some extent at almost all phases of a household's domestic cycle. A final type of labor arrangement which can be considered a type of exchange is collective work. When the labor is for the benefit of an individual or a household, as in the case of the building or a

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148 house, the exchange is classified as ayni and the recipient of the labor is obligated to assist all who worked with their own houses when they are engaged in construction. If the labor is expended on a project which benefits the comuiunity as a whole, such as on a sheep bath or a school building, the work is called p"ayna . Since everyone is working for the common good, no obligations are incurred although a fine may be imposed on community members who do not participate. Annual and Regional Variation in Energy Expenditure Energy expenditure in the district of Sarata varies from month to month in each of the three natural life zones. There are four basic periods of energy expenditure in the lakeside and intermediate zones, where agriculture is practiced. These correspond fairly well to the planting, growing, harvest, and postharvest periods described by Thomas (1972:123) for Nunoa. The planting season, which runs from midto late August through early to mid-November, is a time when energy expenditure is relatively high. In the lakeside zone, a peak in the number of calories expended in the planting process is reached in September, reflecting the earlier agricultural schedule, while in the intermediate zone higher labor expenditure is recorded for October and November. If only agropecuarial activities were recorded, labor expenditures for November would be small in both zones, for planting is completed everywhere by the middle of the month. Much time in November, however, is devoted to the building of new structures in the household complex, or the repair of existing buildings, storehouses, or corrals.

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149 Even if a family is not engaged in a project of their own, they are likely to be involved in lending ayni services for someone else's construction at this time. December brings a period of lovyer caloric expenditure in the intermediate zone, corresponding to the growing season. This trend continues through January and would continue into February as well, were it not for the festivities of Candelaria and Carnaval . In the lakeside zone, there is a slight rise in activity in December, as weeding begins and planted rows are buttressed. The mi 1 1 i harvest also begins in December in the lakeside zone. Labor investment is in general more evenly distributed throughout the year near the lake, since the availability of water and other microclimatic conditions make it possible to spread planting and harvesting and consequently other subsidiary activities, over a longer period of time. Caloric expenditures rise sharply in March with the opening of fallow ground ( q"ullina ) and reach the highest levels of the year, in both the intermediate and lakeside zones, in April. This is because q"ulliria is still being carried out in April and, at the same time, the harvest of potatoes and grains has begun. Activity levels begin tapering off in May, although they are still high, and continue declining until they reach a year-round low level in July, in the middle of the dry season. Yearly variation in labor expenditure follows a different pattern in the herding (non-agricultural) zone. The busiest times of the year are January, when most animals are sheared, and June, when

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150 sheep are bathed and marked. For much of the wet season (November through April) young and pregnant animals may be herded separately, which requires a large investment of labor. There is less variation from month to month, however. Herding is a daily activity and one which must be performed throughout the year. The number of calories expended per household each month is diagrammed in Figure 3-4. There is not a great deal of variation between intermediate and lakes ize zones, but daily expenditures are slightly higher in the herding zone. In the two lower zones children are responsible for 13 to 20 percent of all agropecuarial and household labor. In the herding zone, they perform up to 30 percent of such tasks. Herding households have, on the average, one to two more children than their counterparts in other zones. On an individual level, activity levels for both adults and children are high there, even when the contributions of additional children to the household are considered. Thus, it appears that a herding household depends upon having a larger number of children in order to meet its total labor needs. A Summary of Subsistence in Sarata The three natural life zones of the district of Sarata rely on different combinations of productive resources. Differences in landscape, climate, and in the number of animals owned also lead to patterns of exploitation of resources which vary significantly. In all three zones, however, primary productivity is low compared to world averages. To obtain even relatively low levels of productivity, heavy expenditures of labor are required. While labor requirements are high

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152 throughout the year, some periods are more critical than others. During planting and harvest, large quantities of labor must be invested during short periods of time, which are rigidly defined by the climatic characteristics of a given agricultural cycle. During other time periods, such as the dry season, and the months of November through February, there is less rigid definition of the periods during which tasks must be accomplished. Many of the activities performed in these periods are "optional" in the sense that the household would not suffer in its subsistence if they were neglected for one year, although their continued neglect could cause problems. Activities such as weaving, house repair and rebuilding of fences fall into this category. Migratory activity in Sarata is organized around critical periods of labor expenditure. It is made possible by the flexibility permitted at other times of the year, in conjunction with the flexible household division of labor. Energy consumption in the district of Sarata is generally adequate. It must be remembered, however, that the consumption patterns described in this chapter reflect inputs from seasonal migration as well as the agropecuarial production of the households. Also, the observations on which the consumption data in this chapter are based were made during a relatively good year for agricultural production. The basic descriptive data presented here will form the basis for a detailed analysis of household energy flow in Chapter Four. The variables of production, consumption and energy expenditure will be integrated in an attempt to deal with the flow of energy through the households of Sarata. In this way, conclusions will be drawn about the

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153 energetic adequacy of the aiti piano resource base and the energetic role of seasonal migration.

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154 Table 3-11. Ayropecuarial activities in the natural life zones of the District of Sarata by month Lakeside Zone August Early plantitig of potatoes, Herding minor tubers, barley, and Castration of sheep other products Weaving Preparation of onion seedlings Repair of walls for resetting Wedding celebrations Gathering lake reeds for animals September Preparation of raised rows for Reset onions potato planting Harvest of irrigated beans Preparation of dung for potato Gathering lake reeds for planting animals Planting of quinoa, oats, barHerding ley, rye, potatoes, and minor Celebration of the fiesta of tubers Exaltacidn de la Cruz October Planting of potatoes, minor Weeding and buttressing of rows for tubers, and vegetables early potatoes and minor tubers Herding Milking November Second weeding and buttressing Milking of rows for early potatoes and Birth of sheep minor tubers Building repair Herding Weaving December Harvest of early beans, potatoes. Weeding beans barley, and minor tubers Reset onions Weeding and buttressing of rows Herding for regular potatoes and minor Milking tubers

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155 Table 3-n--Continued Lakeside Zone--Continued Second weeding and buttressing of rov;s for regular potatoes and minor tubers Shearing Februarv Weeding of onions and other vegetables Herding Mil king Harvest one-half of beans Herding Milking March Plowing of fallow land Harvest of quinoa, beans, onions, and other vegetables Herding Celebration of the fiestas of Candelaria and Carnaval Mil king Birth of sheep Planting of irrigated beans April Harvest of barley and oats Harvest of potatoes and minor tubers Plowing fallow land Herding Milking May Harvest of potatoes and minor tubers Herding Milking Celebration of the fiesta of Santa Cruz Gathering lake reeds for animals Weeding of irrigated beans June Butchering Bathing and marking of sheep Processing of k"aya, c^'i'jjnu, tunta (freeze-dried tubers) Processing of ch'arki (dried meat) Threshing and drying barley, oats, qui noa, beans Herding Celebration of the fiesta of San Juan Gathering lake reeds for animals July Planting beans P"ayna labor Herding Gathering lake reeds for animals

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156 Table 3-ll--Continued Intermediate Zone August Herding Feeding animals Castration of sheep Weaving Repair of walls Wedding celebrations September Preparation of dung for potato Herding planting Feeding animals Planting of quinoa , kanivja , Celebration of the fiesta of barley, oats, rye, and some Exaltacion de la Cruz potatoes October Planting potatoes Feeding animals Herding November Herding Milking Potato planting Weaving Building repair December Weeding and buttressing of potaHerding toes and minor tubers Milking Heeding of bean fields near lake January Second weeding and buttressing Weeding beans near lake of potatoes and minor tubers Herding Shearing Milking February Herding Celebration of fiestas of Milking Candelaria and Carnaval

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57 Table 3-n--Continued Intermediate Zone--Continued March Plowing of fal low land Harvest of quinoa , kaiJiwa Harvest of beans near lake April Harvest of barley, oats, rye Harvest of potatoes and minor tubers Plowing of fallow land Ma Harvest of potatoes and minor tubers Herding June Butchering Bathing and marking of sheep Processing of k"aya , ch 'uhu and tunta (freeze-dried potatoes) Processing of ch'arki (dried meat) July Planting beans near lake P^'^jia_ labor Herding Butchering Herding Milking Butchering Herding Milking Feeding animals Celebration of fiesta of Santa Cruz Threshing and drying of barley, oats, quinoa, and beans Herding Celebration of the fiesta of San Juan Feeding animals Bathing and marking of camel ids Castration and marking of cattle Processing of c h'arki (dried meat) Feeding animals August Vaccination of cattle Castration of sheep Birth of camel ids Herding Zone Herding Wall repair Wedding celebrations

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158 Table 3-1 l--Continued Herding Zone -Continued September Herding Separation of mating camel ids and pregnant sheep October Herding Celebration of the fiesta of Exaltacidn de la Cruz Separation of pregnant sheep and newborn camel ids November Herding Milking Seperation of pregnant sheep and Building repair newborn camel ids Birth of sheep December Herding Care of newborn sheep Cattle and camel id births Fill king January Herding Milking Care of newborn sheep, cattle, Marking cattle and camel ids Shearing February Herding Sheep and cattle births Separation of young animals March Herding Mil king April Herding Separation of young animals Celebration of the fiestas of Candelaria and Carnaval Milking Separation of young animals and of pregnant camel ids Milking Butchering

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159 Table 3-ll--Continued Herding Zone-Continued Ma\ Herding Separation of young animals June Bathing and marking of sheep Herding Separation of young animals Celebration of the fiesta of Santa Cruz Butchering Processing of ch'arki (dried meat) Celebration of the fiesta of San Juan July Herding Butchering Separation of pregnant female camelids Bathing and marking of camelids Castration of cattle

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CHAPTER FOUR SEASONAL MIGRATION AND ENERGY DEFICIENCY Introduction One of the most striking impressions which a visitor to the altiplano receives is that people seem to work very hard and to have very little to show for it. Household members work from early in the morning until after dark and often rise in the middle of the night to travel. Agricultural production is painfully labor intensive. By the time a potato field is plowed, planted, weeded, its rows buttressed, and then weeded and buttressed again--all by hand--the cultivator has practically become familiar with each plant on an individual basis. Animals are indeed cared for individually and each one is given a distinctive name and marking. Products of all types seem to be forever carried on the back, both by men and women, from one place to another. To an outsider, the way in which altiplano dwellers force, or coax, a harvest out of their environment is a marvel of determination. They build irrigation ditches to bring water from where it is to where it is not; build terraces to hold the earth where it would not otherwise remain; plant in the flood plain and then hurry to harvest the product before the lake rises; and they try, unsuccessfully so far, to find ways to control frost, hail, and drought. Despite all of this industriousness, the inhabitants of the altiplano rarely seem to be ahead of the game. There are exceptions, of course--people who have become \/ery 160

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161 wealthy— but in their cases the money rarely comes from agricultural or livestock production. The suggestion that the altiplan o environment is energydeficient thus seems intuitively accurate to the observer. This is perhaps the overriding impression that is given by the activities and the landscape. In order to proceed with scientific investigation, however, one must have more than impressions on which to base hypotheses. The flow of energy through the altiplano environment must be analyzed, quantified, and its sufficiency or insufficiency determined. The low primary productivity of the al tiplano has been described. Low productivity is the evidence most commonly given for energy deficiency in the region. A previous study of energy flow on the al tiplano was carried out by Thomas (1972) in the district of Nuhoa, in Puno. Thomas hypothesized that energy was limiting for the Nuhoa population, but that certain behavioral and physiological adaptations allowed people to live successfully in their environment. While environmental constraints on production would theoretically prevent the human population from receiving sufficient resources to meet their metabolic requirements, the population of Nunoa showed no signs of malnutrition or other forms of stress related to insufficient energy resources. For this reason, Thomas suggested that they possessed behavioral adaptations which allowed them to live successfully in the altiplano environment. Thomas' conclusions appear to be correct, but there are some problems with his reasoning. He states that energy is limiting for the human population, but that their condition does not reflect that

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162 limitation, and then takes this fact to mean that they have adapted behavioral ly. Were there an independent measure of energy deficiency, the argument would hold, as Smith (1979) has suggested. Since there was not such a measure, each condition becomes dependent on the other and none are substantiated. There were also some problems encountered in Thomas' study (1972) when data were extrapolated to higher levels and comparisons of production, consumption, and expenditure of energy were made. When data on energy production were compared with energy consumption, a ratio of nearly one to one was obtained. Such a ratio would indicate an extremely precarious resource situation for the population of Nuiioa. It would be virtually impossible for a population to subsist under these conditions and certainly a healthy population with no evidence of hypocaloric stress could not be maintained. Thomas' figures on energy consumption were so low as to indicate a possible negative caloric balance. Several possible explanations for such low figures were presented in Chapter Three; it is probable that for various reasons, not all food intake was recorded. Thomas, however, interpr