A Drove of Llamas on the Pampa
The native existence, while not a joyous one, does not appear to be too sombre. The religious festivals are celebrated with undeviating punctuality. No matter how small the collection of huts, somewhere among them is a church, and each group of cabins has its own curé. I remarked everywhere the grass cross over the dwellings. It was very rare to find a hut without this symbolism. It seemed to indicate great devoutness, but what I had already seen of the curés and their flocks made me doubt whether this was the correct explanation. The cross, I was told, was blessed by the priest, and then it kept out the rain, which at times is very heavy. One old man, who, after pretending that he knew nothing but the Aymará tongue, had talked very well in Spanish, was asked if the crosses really did keep out the rain. He replied gravely, “Yes, if the roof is a good one.”
Whether the orthodoxy of the Indians is more than a crust of superstition I do not profess to know, but I have the conviction that a true missionary priesthood would work a vast improvement in their condition, and would produce the evidences of genuine belief in the doctrines of the Church which is demonstrated by the practice of those doctrines. They have had Roman Catholicism for four hundred years, and another form of worship would be meaningless to them; but what they need is the vital principles of the Catholic worship, and not the abuses of unfaithful servants of the Church.
I had heard that the Indians in the depths of their natures preserved the old traditions, and that they still secretly worshipped the White Spirit of the Illimani. Several persons whom I asked replied that they knew nothing of this belief. One of them, a Peruvian who had spent much time among the Indians, said the only spirit they worshipped was the spirit of alcohol.
Among the native population the cholos are easily distinguished. They are the migratory classes who live in the larger towns and some of whom work in the mines. Many of them are freighters. They have charge of the pack trains to and from the mines. They have a distinctive dress,—the loose cotton trouser, widening below the knee and with a V-strip of different cloth in either side. They are a political power, for, while they take little part in the elections, they are not unready to share in a disturbance.
The aboriginal native yet preserves many customs distinct from the cholo. He wears a cap, or gorro, which was worn in the time of the Incas, and he contents himself with a blanket instead of trousers if he cannot afford the latter. The pure-blood Indians are the best for the freight caravans where the llamas are employed, for they can manage those whimsical beasts of burden as no one else can. The llama feeds as it goes along, and a born manager of animals is needed to handle a tropa, or drove, of them, and keep them moving in regular order. The life of the freighter is a hard one, tramping all day and at night sleeping in the corral with the beasts.
The Indian woman in Bolivia occupies a plane on an equality with the man. She has no lord and master, as has the American Indian woman in the noble red man of the West. She works, but he also must work. She accompanies him with the pack trains, all the while that she is trudging along twirling her spools and winding the wool into yarn. It is rare to see an Indian woman without her spools unless she is weaving at the loom. Walking and talking, gossiping and scolding, shouting at the llamas, tramping over the sharpest mountain-pass or plunging down into the gorges, she manages to keep the spool always twirling. It is a most peculiar process, and would drive a small boy who has a notion of spinning a top on the end of his finger wild with emulation, though he hardly would be able to imitate the process.
Bolivian Indian Women Weaving
Aymará Indian Woman and Child