Peru May 17, 2019

Andean Isolation

by Christoph von Ruexleben

Comunidad de Pampamarca, Peru

4,806.76 miles from San Francisco

Have you ever felt alone?

Solitude has been called the most “companionable companion”. But it can also be it can also be pins and needles on the mind, scratching and stabbing at your soul.

What if you had to be alone?

The only option presented to some of the purest souls that roam this world is to suffer to improve the lives of those they care about. In Peru, this happens with great regularity and little pity. We met such a man, a good soul, who suffered under the vise-grip of isolation every day such that his wife and 6 children – ranging from 3 to 16 years old – could live a better life.

Esteban lives a few kilometers outside of a one road town called Comunidad de Pampamarca. Set along the 30A, a two-lane, paved thoroughfare, the town consists of humble, partially-built homes with roofs made from sheet metal. Rocks and tires have been placed on top of the thin metal sheets, the weight of which provides enough downward force that the ever-present wind can’t deprive the homes of their shelter. There are quite clearly few inhabitants, and the altitude is a towering 13,900 feet. Pampamarca is windswept and bitterly cold on a summer day. In the winter, it’s a place of fierce, stinging air. A place of barren, lifeless pampa. The exception is the ubiquitous vicuña, that trot through the high alpine grass with remarkable grace, appearing unaffected by conditions that would humble even the toughest mountain goer. Locals here make their living from domesticating and farming llamas. Their unique, camelid strength provides value as a beast of burden, a tradition carried on from Incan times, and their fiber and tough meat are used for textiles and food. Beyond its inherent harshness, Pampamarca has proven an especially inhospitable place for Esteban. His family of seven lives 250 miles away – in Huamanga – an 8-hour journey and several thousand foot descent through the high Andes. The journey is a fear-inspiring drive when the vehicle is under your control, far scarier though when it is manned by one of the many ever-bold local colectivo (bus) drivers.

A small man with a gentle manner and glowing smile, Esteban began to tell us about his life shortly after we arrived and arranged to camp outside of his abode and workplace. He sees his family once per month. They always come to him or he to them via bus. Huamanga is his true home, and Esteban once served as alcalde (mayor) of the town. Passion filled his eyes when he spoke of home, and his former role in local legislature. He recalled fondly how much fulfillment he got from organizing events and backing legislation that improved lives in his community. He beamed proudly when he recounted that he had once been sent to Lima alongside 20 or so other leaders of small, local governments. They filled a bus and spent several days in the city, arguing for more resources to be shared with the small towns far from the bustling, smog-filled lanes of the country’s capital. It was at that point in our conversation that the typically jovial and charming Esteban took on a more serious expression, as he described how the government of Peru works.

His tale of local governance and his current role in Pampamarca were both marred by widespread corruption. It prevented him from being able to do what needed to be done in Huamanga, and it was highly evident in the town that he now called home. Esteban’s current role, the role that led him so far from his family, is caretaker of a community center focused on providing information and temporary housing for visiting environmental researchers and politicians. He lives at the center and maintains it, ensuring that any guest (us included) is greeted with comfort, despite the harsh conditions outside. Visitors come occasionally and, when they do, they are his only company. The politicians do infrequently pass through, but conditions in Pampamarca remain nothing short of deplorable.

Many high Andean towns have no access to potable water. Ubiquitous pit toilets and low sanitary conditions lead to myriad illnesses – particularly among the very old and the very young. Further, a lack of sexual education has led to extraordinarily high rates of pregnancy among parents far too young to support a child. An absence of appropriate nutrition also culminates in high rates of childhood anemia throughout the Peruvian Andes. Esteban stated that these problems are particularly harmful, as afflictions facing the young can create a cycle of disadvantage that continues in perpetuity. He asserted, quite plainly, that the government is aware of their plight and has the tools to intervene, but money earmarked for the purpose has the odd tendency to vanish. His small voice remained steady as he told us that despite promises, such corruption has stopped any form of government-backed work from happening in Pampamarca for the entirety of his three years there. No infrastructure improvements, no medicines, nothing. Even through his humble words, it was abundantly clear that Esteban has a warrior spirit – a keen understanding and firm will to speak for those less fortunate.

And so we sat there, at 14,000 feet, our teeth chattering with cold. We had cooked more pasta than we could eat ourselves, so we shared a meal with Esteban as he told us about his reality. When we finished eating, the same wide grin that greeted us upon our arrival returned to his face. He offered us a slice of watermelon, his preferred treat, and shone with the happiness of having had an interesting evening in the company of new friends.

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Andean Isolation