How do you know when you belong? There are many answers, but I know exactly when I knew that I belonged in the town of Choco, and it had to do with a ch’uspa, a bag, similar to the one that you see pictured with this post. [For those of you who do not know what Choco is to me, look here. I also detailed something of the Choco mission in my posts in the first week of April 2009. So, what is a ch’uspa? Well, that is the name used in both Perú and Bolivia for a bag that can range in size from an over-the-shoulder bag to something that is slightly larger than a hand.
Though the name ch’uspa is used in Perú and Bolivia, actually, some version of this bag is found from Argentina through Central America, with different names in each region. I have had Guatemala indigenous people in Birmingham, AL, recognize the bag, as well as Nicaraguans, etc. In part the constant presence of this bag in that large a region shows the complex trading relationships that there were between the Aztec Empire, the Inca Empire, and the Guarani Empire. Here is a small historical note for you. We are used to thinking of the North American “Indians,” so we think of plain tribes roaming over the vast expanses of the American West. If that is your entire concept of North (or South) American indigenous peoples, you have a lot to learn and have been watching too many old cowboy movies. In fact, once you hit the Rio Grande (Rio Bravo), almost all the land from Central America through South America was controlled by one of those three well-organized empires.
Once you leave the cities, it is not uncommon to see the ch’uspa being carried by men in the altiplano. It is a handy bag that can be used from many things. So, I started to use one. I bought it in Arequipa at a store. Frankly, it was a slight cut above a ch’uspa made for the tourist trade. It was handy to have slung around my neck and over my shoulder and could carry a sandwich, some water and any little things I thought I might need as I was riding on the mule. Because of the length of the strap, it hung comfortably at my hip while riding or walking and was quite an useful container.
And so I used it for several trips to Choco. During that time, the people were coming to know me. I was able to allay one of their big early fears that I would divide the town into competing religions. If you read the posts from the first week of April, you will know that I first went to Choco as a result of a tragedy, a massive landslide and flood that killed 34 people and destroyed about one third of their town. But, their prior experience of a non-Roman Catholic had been a Protestant missionary 25 years before that had nearly split the townspeople into two warring factions as he preached a message of separatist fundamentalism. My work had to balance both healing from the tragedy (and from that missionary) and yet the call to follow Our Lord Jesus Christ. Eventually we built a mother’s center on the town square in one of the rebuilt buildings, and did other social works, as well as the Gospel. The end result, over two years later, was that the entire village decided to become members of the Anglican Church of Perú.
Sometimes I would go alone to the village, with just a guide, but sometimes I would lead a team. It was on one of those alone trips that I had an unexpected surprise. The village bell had rung and the villagers knew that I was coming. As I entered the town, about three women were waiting for me. The guide stopped and the women came up to me. To my surprise, they looked at my ch’uspa and told me that I had the wrong bag. At first I did not understand. Then they pulled out a ch’uspa and handed it to me. Now, I need to explain that the true indigenous practice is that the ch’uspa is knit with the colors of their tribe or kin. Like a lot of the clothing worn by the Quechua, the colors and patterns reflect the tribe/kin to whom they belong. It says something of their identity.
On that day, I was given a ch’uspa in the colors and patterns of those who lived in Choco. The women, with the knowledge of the town elders, had woven it for me. I accepted the ch’uspa. On that day, I was bound to Choco and it was bound to my heart. Yes, I miss Choco. I wish I had the money for my wife and I to travel to Perú to go visit again, although I fear that I would need to improve my physical condition with some good exercise! That is one rough trip to get there.
So, how do you know when you belong? On that day I knew that I belonged. And, even though I cannot visit and am so far away, I still belong there. I am a tribal member of Choco. I still have that ch’uspa. It is worn and old, but it will not be thrown away. It is my passport and holds my heart.
I just read your series on the Choco mission from March/April 2009. Really interesting, particularly the April 3 entry, “The Choco Mission, Part 05” that tells about the confrontation between the real God and the earth goddess Pachamama. Do you understand Elijah any better after that?
I have spent a lot of time in Ecuador, but only on two-week trips with a medical mission, every year for 12 years. I have been to a few remote places (like your photo of the trail to Choco, only greener) but because we’re medical/surgical (not me; I’m a translator) and because we have to stick nearby to a town with a hospital, we don’t run into a whole lot of superstition or indigenous spirituality—but we’re on the edge of it sometimes, with Quichua beliefs and a bit of shamanism in the herbal remedies. Most of the spiritual conflicts come from within our group of US and Canadian citizens! Usually we behave well enough to survive a two-week trip, though, and get into some worthwhile conversation that we wouldn’t have had opportunity for back home. Some of us believerson the trip joke that we bring our own mission field down there with us.
By the way, earlier I suggested filing your entries by subject. It looks like you’ve already laid the groundwork. I found the Choco entries by hitting the tag, “missions” at the foot of today’s entry. I think all you have to do is include a list of links over on the side.
Thanks for sharing about Peru. I’m getting homesick for Ecuador and will be on the plane four weeks from today, si Dios quiere.
Oops. I see you’ve already put up a list of tags. Good deal.
By the way, I’ve changed the link on my name from my wife’s Dominican team to my Ecuador one, si esté interesado.
I can not only understand Elijah better, I can fully understand his sense of fear afterward. My fear was during; his reaction was afterward. Let me tell you that I may have done the right thing but my insides were miserable jelly at the time.