History and Mystery.
The Uros people are not native to the high Andes. Rather, they appear to be descended from people who migrated from the Amazon Rainforest perhaps as long as 3,700 years ago. Over time, they intermarried with the local Aymara and Quechua and began a process where they lost much of their language but retained some of their traditions.
Unwilling to submit to the rule and harsh treatment they suffered when the Inkas began dominating the area, the Uros built their first islands on the lake some 500 to 700 years ago as a defensive tactic. Though not all escaped the Inkas, the ploy generally succeeded. A small, isolated group of people building shelters from reeds and living essentially as hunter gatherers were of no interest to the Inkas who probably viewed the Uros and their reed structures as having nothing to offer beyond slave labor and even that in only limited numbers. When the Spanish conquistadors arrived in the 16th century, they either took little notice of the island people or viewed them with similar contempt as had the Inkas. As for the Uros themselves, over time they came to view themselves as owners of the lake and its waters.
Once on these Islands.
Left alone, if not able to thrive, the Uros were at least able to survive. And, given their propensity to appropriate and adapt technology, it’s somewhat surprising that the Inkas didn’t perceive the ingenuity of the island builders. Viewed from an engineering perspective, even today, these islands are unquestionably extraordinary. Add to that the fact that the Uros have built them using essentially the same tools and technology they used in the 14th or 15th century and it makes the accomplishment all the more remarkable.
With our guide (on the left) serving as translator, Aron demonstrated how they build their islands.
First, they lay a foundation formed of large blocks of earth that they then tether to each other and to the lake bottom using long sharp sticks and ropes. With the foundation in place, the reed weaving process begins. Using reeds that have been cut and dried they arrange them in crisscrossing layers that are compacted to make them as watertight as possible. As you can see in the photo, more reeds are then used to construct living quarters. These are placed on top of a loose layer of reeds to provide insulation from the chilly lake water which averages about 14 degrees Celsius at the surface. This video is similar to the demonstration we saw (and seeing it makes me think that there’s a well-rehearsed element about this “show”).
Of course, with the passage of time, the brackish lake water begins to rot the layers of the islands and, while the reeds need relatively constant monitoring and replacement, a well-maintained island can last as long as 30 years.
As you’ve seen by now, the totora reeds provide material not only for their islands but for their boats and homes as well. But the Uros’ use of the reed doesn’t stop there. Before they set pulled reeds out to dry, they cut off the white lower section which is both edible and can also be used as a pain reliever. Dried reeds also provide a fire source and are burned for both warmth and cooking. You can see the latter in the second video in this folder where you can also see some of the handcrafted items they weave to sell to tourists.
In this photo,
you see the symbolic representations of the three realms of Andean cosmology – the serpent representing the Ukhu Pacha or inner world, the puma which is the symbolic manifestation of the Kay Pacha or the physical world, and the condor symbolizing the Hanan Pacha or upper world. Their prominent presence on the island is a clear indication that, likely through the process of intermarriage with the local population, not only did the Uros lose the language of their ancestors – most speak Quechua and/or Aymara – but they have also assimilated the spiritual and cosmic world view of the dominant local culture.
At the end of our visit many of the island’s inhabitants gathered to sing for us. They sang in Quechua, Aymara, Spanish, English, and one or two other languages that I don’t recall. Preceding each song with a count of, “maya, paya, qimsa” or one, two, three in Aymara, it was quite similar to this.
Facing an uncertain future.
For at least 500 years, the Uros have maintained one of the most unique lifestyles on our planet. They were able to escape the threats posed by the Inkas and the Spanish but they now face a different threat from a different sort of invasion – pollution, non-native fish species, and climate change. As I’ve noted elsewhere, growing population, increasing tourism, increased use of chemical fertilizers, combined with weak and little enforced environmental and other regulations by both Bolivia and Perú are rapidly polluting Lake Titikaka while climate change may be evaporating it.
The introduction of trout in the 1930s has apparently already led to the extinction of at least two native species of killifish. Changing weather patterns bring more frequent and longer El Niños that result in less rainfall putting still more stress on the lake. It’s certainly conceivable that even if Lake Titikaka doesn’t dry up as some climatologists predict, these stresses will force the Uros off their islands and onto the mainland. (There are some who assert that, for many, they have already done so.)
There’s clear evidence that some among these people have begun this transition. One woman, Amalia Suaña, left behind life on the islands for a time, went to work and saved enough money to get a college education, and then returned to the lake where she founded the community’s first pre-school about a decade ago. In an interview with Al Jazeera she explained, “The idea grew from looking at the children and thinking that I didn’t have the opportunity to go to school as a child. The children have the right to be educated.” This is, I think, as it should be.
These children can now attend high school in Puno. Some will go on to college. Many will choose not to return. Others, including their parents, may not have that choice.
Back in Puno and in my mind.
Much like our stay in Asunción, our visit to Puno was brief and limited. We walked through the market along the dock where we’d boarded the boat to the islands but didn’t tour the city. We had dinner at a pizzeria near our hotel where we were briefly serenaded by a band of buskers. (You can see a brief video in the Google photos folder linked above.) Still easily tired by the altitude, we were all happy to return to our rooms directly from dinner. Tomorrow, we have a six-and-a-half-hour bus ride to Cusco – the center of the Inkan world.
As for what goes on in my mind, I can’t give you any good reason why the Floating Islands had me thinking of songs by the Kinks and from this Broadway show. But they did.
Until next time.