The Agrarian Life in Huayraccmachay

When we departed the Wyra Lodge during our trek to Machu Picchu, we had the opportunity to visit a farm in Huayraccmachay. Our trek leader, Dalmiro, knew the farmers, and for a small donation to the family, we were given a look into the rugged life of a highland farmer. When I say a small donation, I mean something less than a US dollar; this amount was suggested, I don't think anyone donated less.

 

The farm house was of stone construction. It was obvious that stones from the area were used; there is no contractors' supply or big box, home improvement store in the neighborhood. The window openings did not contain glass windows. They were covered with blankets, plastic sheeting or mismatched wooden boards. The door to the dwelling was a blanket; pushing it aside allowed entry. The interior sported a flat, hard packed, earthen floor. Large blue, poly tarps covered some walls and parts of the ceiling adding an extra layer of protection from the elements. There were few worldly possessions. Those that they had were stacked on a few shelves. There were a couple of radios, and a "boom box". Their power came from a car battery. The battery was charged via a single solar panel mounted on the roof. The only other electricity driven device was a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. It was directly connected to the panel. When the sun went down, the light went out.

There were no closets, wardrobes or chests; clothes and blankets were hung on wall pegs or across poles lashed to the interior roof supports.

Cooking was done in a fireplace located in one corner of the house. Pots, pans and utensils were stacked on open shelves. Other shelves contained food staples including potatoes, dried corn, and a melon. There is no running water, indoor plumbing, and as mentioned only self generated electricity. These hardy people are the ultimate in self sufficiency.

Within the confines of the house, there was one food item that was under foot, cuy or guinea pig (Cavia porcellus), if you like. When we entered the house, about a dozen cuy were warming themselves in the fireplace. The fire had been extinguished after breakfast. We spotted another dozen or more outside of the hearth. This animal is a highly prized protein mainly eaten on special occasions, holidays and birthdays. When I sampled cuy, my taste buds categorized it as something like the dark meat of turkey, maybe slightly stronger.

When we exited the house, Dalmiro introduced us to the foot plow. also called chaquitaclla, chakitaqlla or just taclla in Quechua. It is a human-powered tool dating back top Inca times. This is the tool used to till and plant all crops in the Andean highlands.

On this farm, the main crops were potatoes and corn. Having its origins in Peru, the potato is included in nearly every meal. They have upwards of 100 varieties. About a half dozen varieties were grown on this farm.

The farmer gave us some instruction in the use of the foot plow. Place the metal tip on the ground, he then press down on the foot rest. This model allowed moving the foot rest to the opposite side for left footed plowers.

 

It takes a firm push with one's foot to break the sod.

Once broken, the sod is lifted and turned aside. The seeds are placed in the furrow, and the sod is replaced. The fields that we saw under cultivation were about an acre in size. It wasn't made clear how long it would take to put an entire field under cultivation. I suspect it would take me the better part of the growing season to get one field planted.

We were given the chance to try out our cultivation skills with the plow. The farmer made it look easy; I was confident that this was not the case. We had a few in our group give it a try, none with success.

From my vantage point (away from the foot plow), the main objective seemed to be remaining upright once the foot was on the foot rest. After quickly realizing that none of us could be considered sod busters in the Andean highlands. We picked up our back packs and were on our way.

As we continued on our path to Machu Picchu, I now realized why I never dreamed of being a farmer. I do, however, have a profound appreciation for the difficult life shared by the highland farmers of Peru.