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Do You Believe in Ghosts?
Justina Orosco
Probably modern, rational people will answer my question with a definite "No!"
Well, let me tell you a true story, the story of my grandmother.
Her name was Justina, and she was the eldest of 3 children. I have been told that I look very much like her. She was an admirable and hardworking woman. Her father, Pedro Orosco, had come from a very far away village in Piura, and why and how he finally ended up in Chaclla, on the Santa Eulalia Valley, remains a mystery because not even his favourite daughter Justina would have dared ask him about it.
Pedro Orosco devoted most of his life to the land. In Chaclla, married to a peasant, he worked her two parcels of land and rented another one. Two years later he had bought that parcel, and leased another one. Always using his strength to the full, he acquired several tiny plots of land, scattered on the various ecological niches.
But he had other aspirations, and once he considered he had enough land, he started bartering one plot for another, moving them together and merging them. Just before the war against Chile (1879 - 1883) he was the owner of what we called the Chacra de Pomaticlia, which could be defined as a large farm, or a small estate. During the war he fought with the Montoneros or civil guerrillas against the Chilean army on the Rimac and the Santa Eulalia valleys, and he even fought in the Reducto or redoubt of San Juan de Miraflores.
Justina was his favourite child and he brought her up conveying to her many of his famous skills: his sense of responsibility, his long endurance and love for work, his commitment with the land. When Justina became a young woman she fell in love with an Italian immigrant, whom she married and with whom she had 3 children. A few months after her last childbirth she lost her husband, and Pedro Orosco felt very sorry about this. He supported this 25 year-old woman, who then became mother and father of 3 children. This was not an easy task, particularly since my father was the most mischievous kid ever seen in Santa Eulalia and its surroundings. Now we know he was hyperactive, rather than simply naughty.
A few years later her beloved father passed away, and now Justina had also to take care of the farm. She had to deal with seeds, crops, and with the animals. Being a woman, she had to win the respect of her workers, and this she did working harder than her best labourers, despite the fact that by then she had been hit by a car, and had a limp.
As it often happens with farms, Justina had to cope also with natural disasters. One year it would be a huayco or landslide, and some years later a drought. Perhaps she would enjoy 5 years of calm, and then a severe flood would be followed immediately by a plague. Often in those years, her survival and that of her children and her farm, could have only been ensured by selling some land.
As the years went by, my uncle Raul entered the Naval Academy, my father soon followed him into the military, and entered the Air Force. My aunt Ada went to the University to become a teacher, and again Justina - whom we called Mamima - was in great need of money to guarantee her children's professional education.
Selling the land was the obvious solution available to her, yet you know that all over the world peasants and farmers love their land dearly. They would never think of it as a mere asset, and they are always reluctant to sell it. This was how Mamima felt, but, having been a witness of her father's endeavours throughout all of his life, striving for this farm, she was even less inclined to sell her land.
This is where her ghosts come into the story.
She told me that eight times in forty years she needed the money so badly that she had finally decided to sell some land. But six times out of eight, her ghosts helped her.
The night before she would sign a contract and sell land, she would pray with great devotion and faith to the Animas Benditas del Purgatorio (the holy souls in Purgatory). She would pray 10 rosaries, and then would beg them: 'please help me find the money I need, please save my land!' Somehow relieved, she would go to bed. The next morning she usually woke up very early and followed the clear instructions given to her by her ghosts.
Once, for instance, she knew she had to go the centre of the living room and walk towards the door, then she had to lift up the fifth wooden tile of the floor and dig. Another time she had to remove an adobe brick from the wall beneath her window. Having followed carefully the detailed instructions, Mamima found on each of the six occasions, a bag full of gold pounds. What was even more remarkable was that the amount, almost to the cent, was equal to the sum she was in such great need of!
But Mamima had also learnt a great deal about Indian beliefs and ghosts, having gone with her father for years to several Indian communities, riding on horseback up to Marcapomacocha, or to Chacclla, to San Juan de Iris or Carampona; or else down to the sunny and warm villages of Callahuanca and Palle where fruits were abundant. She acquainted me with these mythical beings, and I shall share this with you now.
In the Indian villages there are two types of ghosts: the kind ghosts who act as oracles of the earth; the Apus and the sacred Huacas. They saved the lives of their believers from landslides or earthquakes, they even saved them from the Chilean army.
On the other hand they also believed in dreadful ghosts: there was the Ñakaj, a handsome devil with a Spanish face, who wore a helmet, whose feet left no traces, and who would take all your blood.
Another evil ghost was the Pishtako, depicted in Santa Eulalia as a strong Spanish miner with a big hat and a bag, who would beat you to death and, while you were still conscious, would peel off your skin, and take away all of your fat.
There were also pathetic creatures, half llama and half men, who happened to be the offspring of cursed priests.
The 'simple' people who believed in these beings were very careful with them. For more than 400 years - despite a long, bloody and cruel persecution - the religious rites of worship to the Earth have survived, and are still in force. These good ghosts would gratify those who lived according to the principles of solidarity, reciprocity and redistribution. On the other hand, if you allowed your evil instincts to emerge and harm other people, the Ñakaj and the Pishtako were just too readily at hand.
Of course, we could try a modern, sophisticated and rational explanation for these ghosts. First let us have a look at my Mamima's ghosts.
It is my theory that because at that time banks were not available, and people hid their money burying it under their houses and other places, very probably Pedro Orosco hid the money and told little Maria Justina - who was at the time probably around 8 to 13 years old - the precise details and instructions to find them, all this under an oath of secrecy.
I like to think that he told her "My dear child, don't you ever sell the land. Whenever you find yourself in great need, remember that you only have to follow my instructions and your problems will be solved, but please don't you ever sell the land".
The little girl would store this information in her mind, and then deliberately forget about it because of its secret nature. That memory may have been there, dormant for years, and even María Justina must have forgotten it. Yet, under those very stressful conditions, full of despair and fear, Justina's souvenirs would emerge and help her.
Now then, let's examine the Indian ghosts.
First, it is interesting to note that the native kindly ghosts gratify the people always on a collective basis, while Catholic ghosts help people on an individual basis.Second, the good ghosts helped to link peasants with their environment, thus helping to ensure its own preservation.
Third, the Ñakaj and Pishtakos would be the personification of evil. Of course they are very well rooted in Peruvian history: remember they all have Spanish faces, and the 'simple' people created them in order to have them as agents for social control.
Fourthly, they were effective. It should be mentioned that before 1980, the rate of crime in rural Andean villages was almost nil.
Yet now, living in a modern, sophisticated, rational society, I admit I live under a permanent cloud of fear, because I sense violence, hatred and selfishness everywhere. When so many religions and ideologies have lead to uncertainty and scepticism, when we do not believe in ghosts anymore, I wonder, have we advanced, or merely left something important behind?
I have made up my mind. Once my daughter Yolita is old enough, I shall take her up to Marcapomacocha. At sunset we shall leave the car and gaze at the beautiful scenery just across the road. The smooth bluish mountain sides, leading to a wonderful necklace formed by tiny, crystalline, amethyst lakes, all of them reflecting like a mirror the pink and orange snow-capped mountains.
We shall probably see a small herd of alpacas, running freely towards the water. Close to the largest lake, an aged Indian peasant woman - always busy spinning her own yarn - will wave her hand in greeting. And at that time, when there is still good light, we shall see them. I am sure Yolita and I shall see them.
We will see the shapes of two people, one a short, stout, powerful man, yet elegant and loving. One of his very rare smiles will appear below his long moustache. In one hand he will hold his hat, with the other he will expertly guide his horse.
Next to him, forever young, forever strong and handsome will ride Mamima, her braids falling on her back. Sitting on a side saddle of leather adorned with silver, she will be wearing her long blue dress, as always, covered by her white apron. And she shall be happy, having left sadness far behind.
I am sure that we shall see them. Do you know why?
Because I want to believe in ghosts!
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