viernes, 5 de febrero de 2010
WAS LATE IN THE HILLS
It was late, the sun shone all apus guardianship of the region. All sapa Sinchis and gathered around the fire in the afternoon, absorbed contemplated the events in these times we live in the awakening of our minds, our history, our past. Having lived in the shadows and invisible in these communities governed by Caras, misti and Creole. As one who also live many of our brothers know its origin, its leaders its authorities, those emanating from the same vision that took millennia. But now besotted with Western philosophy harass and die like rats in the desert, wanting to aspire to Western Eden, which has nothing to do with as we perceive the world as pariverso. There is an agreement to protect dictated by a Western organizations, but even that is true. We still live in shacks without the dignity that we were accustomed at the time of our elderly parents. We want to teach a religion destroys the person and everything that surrounds him. We are taught to hate our enemy and poisoning our feelings lie.
Now I remember distinctly Western ways of hating and loving feelings as two, we love everything that moves in his order that nature gives us, as should be the discourse of nature and take it according to our needs without harming it. In the West the desire is just happy to get one as selfish drive without seeing a similar although in their talk of loving religion like, but do not. His love is destructive of everything you see.
For them our ritual battles that we get all that is within us as attachment to expel it and live in harmony, even with our fellow man who took away our bread from our table or we remove a brother from our house to disappear. I do not understand. If we are two worlds and yet we accept it with things that we are aberrations that are irrelevant to our visions and our way of life for millennia. Despite the mockery that make us sick to our brethren west African think they have the truth, but tell him the truth he has done with his knowledge and western religions, if not destroy the world in which we live. Before I could walk through the forests of the plains and lose myself in it, play with all beings that inhabit it, take the clear water that flows into it, savoring the sweet delicacy colorless odorless received my lips. Now by the action of the same runes that debased by the doctrines of Western man has awoken in the all evils such as greed, usury, and many more who have disfigured and I can not find if it is the rune of the people of my nations or whether they are beings of the most horrible horrible nightmares that would create a film director.
It was late in the hills and all of us with our faces mournful ignominy could not heal the white man against our heritage, that we receive from our parents, grandparents and ancestors. Now I walk along paths covered with mineral dust scattered what was once large fields with crops of every kind. I remember a little boy I sat with my mother to eat mamacona his precious hands the tender corn freshly ground pepper with the clap. He played in his Yanas ditches with my brothers, like we were on an equal footing, regardless of whether I was a child and they sowed the children of my land. As not forget to Lazarus, the faithful charger Mamacona My Mother used to stay in the Indian markets to help his family after being exiled from our village. And as the soul hurts his tears for responsibility in a time of oblivion and my mischief by venturing to know more no one to guide me. I went there I recognized very tender to the mission that my people belonged, that hurt me in the soul the misery that we imposed the Caras, mistis Westerners. And it still hurts me is my people, but some do not want to recognize it, because in my back by the legacy of all that history that forged at the beginning of those great nations that settled and that I look at these my eyes staring at heights where my ancestors walked his feet.
Tupac Isaac II
Juan Esteban Villalobos Yupanqui