Pomacanchi: community, family, and the resistance against oblivion

A conversation with Professor Janett Vengoa

This interview was conducted in Spanish, and all translations are the author’s. 

Located two hours away from Cusco in the Peruvian Andes, is the town of Pomanchi. Wherever I looked, the imposing cordilleras reminded me that there were bigger, more important things than buildings and cement. People in Pomacanchi know that well—no matter how foreign I looked, with a Cusco-bought cap and new hiking shoes, locals greeted me and asked me about my day as I walked down the street. Born and raised in a city, I was frequently caught off guard and my worldview was knocked off centre by the culture shock. In the city where mountains are scarce, we do not say hi. We keep walking, engrossed in whatever it is we are doing that day. Before Pomacanchi, I dismissed the importance of mountains, never imagining the magnitude of the knowledge they held.

When I sat down with Professor Janett Vengoa, the director of the Centro de Culturas Vivas (Centre for Living Cultures) Pacha Puriy, the mountains were our first topic of conservation.   From their meaning, to their connection to community-building, and their impact on our lives, we spoke of cordilleras as if they were a long-lost sibling, forgetting their existence. My lack of attention had pushed mountains to oblivion — a real embodiment of ‘out of sight, out of mind.’ 

I realized that bringing this phenomenon to Professor Vengoa’s attention was necessary. As a professional in the teachings of Quechua, a prominent Peruvian Indigenous language, I wanted to hear her opinion about the danger of forgetting—of losing sight of language, cultures, and forms of knowledge production. More importantly, I wanted to discuss how we could stop it. 

“It is important to evidence [the] Indigenous ways that have been de-structured by colonization. The head—of government and society—was removed, and for us, in order to appreciate a government, we need to recover authority,” she said. She explains that in order to combat the dismissal of Indigenous communities by the Peruvian state, Indigenous people need to recover their authority. Not a forceful imposition of their desires, but the establishment of a representation that can “elevate [their] quality of life.” 

In Peru, this is not an easy task. As reported by Amnesty International, Indigenous populations in the country have historically suffered from political and social discrimination, creating a cycle of unequal access to healthcare, housing, and education.  Indigenity is pushed outside the country’s national imagination. By doing so, the Peruvian state has systematically disavowed the sociopolitical roles of Indigenous people. Slowly, Andean communities are being forced towards oblivion.

In response, small towns like Pomacanchi have mobilized in the name of self-remembrance, contesting the state’s omission by focusing, first and foremost, on recalling their own past. As described by Professor Vengoa, Indigenous communities identify a necessity to move past the hatred generated by colonialism in favour of peaceful dialogue, affirming that conversations have the power to rebuild and transform. For people in Pomacanchi, remembering the past is seen as a pathway for the future—as a tangible approach to look at one another and learn to appreciate different perspectives. In the mountains, they recognize each other as equals. 

“This acceptance has allowed me to cultivate a relationship to that level—a level where we are all human,” said Vengoa, taking a sip of her coffee. “That is how we see each other: there is no superior and inferior. This has taken me in and said: there is an important capital here because they do not start from differences but from that which unites us.” At its core, Pomacanchi builds itself on the appreciation of differing worldviews, arguing that the fight against oblivion is not about imposing one story, but about preserving all of them. 

Yet, as Professor Vengoa asserted, this collective organization also demands internal reflection.“Working with this language and this culture implies looking into and reviewing a lot of our inner world—it implies a lot of bravery to be able to evidence the valuable, to fight and say that there is something important here that needs to be understood, and, that way, you find strength to make your own path.” Echoing Carol Hanisch’s sentiment that “the personal is political,” resistance in Pomacanchi requires individual labour that invites its members to question their own responsibility within structures of power. Whatever role one might play in oblivion, however unintentional, must be subverted in order to truly contest the dismissal of Indigenous culture.

Built upon a plurality of perspectives, this form of resistance is what Professor Vengoa wishes people would take away from Indigenous communities. Based on their unique knowledge production systems—where certain values and practices are highlighted—the appreciation for diversity of thought manifests in different Indigenous practices, such as agriculture and community-building. It has also transformed the usage of language pronouns as stories are told from the perspectives of those who lived and experienced the event they describe, positioning themselves within the context of their own narrative, their community, and their story. Essentially, Indigenous cosmovisions in Pomacanchi move fluidly between collective and individual identities. They create a dynamic interplay that, while contradictory to the Western perspective, interact and nurture one another in the Peruvian Andes. 

“How I would love for the world to be able to appropriate and respect these communities for this knowledge; not because they are being told ‘oh what a pity, poor them’ but because they are people who can teach us and make us think a lot of things,” said Vengova.

As the sun set in the Peruvian mountains, my conversation with Professor Vengoa came to a close. “What does Quechua culture mean to you?” I asked, hoping she would give me a final insight into how Pomacanchi’s resistance shaped her experiences as an academic and a community leader. Her response,“I have dedicated my life to this mountain.” Like her, there are others who have invested their time and their labour into self-remembrance. People who have fought for the reincorporation of their communities into their nation’s imagination, and who keep demanding recognition in the face of a system that does not seem keen on giving it. 

For those who have given their all, it is now our responsibility to look at the cordilleras and remember.