Peruvian Short Stories

By Dorila A. Marting

A native of Pomabamba, Peru, Dorila A. Marting grew up surrounded by the tales of her native city as told by family members and local Quechua storytellers. In Peruvian Short Stories, Marting brings these childhood accounts to life with a narrative that is as distinctively authentic as it is universally relatable.

"This Peruvian legend has many versions depending on who is telling, the story. I will relate to you what I heard a long, long time ago, as a child, from an elderly storyteller Quechua woman named
Mama Cunchina ... "
-The Cave of Maria Josefa


With voices spanning from the small and elderly mouse (The Emigration of Domestic Animals) to the all-encompassing Mama Patcha
(Mother Earth), every story is uniquely enchanting while still supporting the overall parable that is weaved throughout the collection. Marting illustrates her memories with the ease of the Quechua storytellers of her youth, and indeed these accounts of love, loss, family, nature, friendship, and respect are as crucial and resonant today as they were during the inception of Peruvian Folklore.

I invite you to navigate to a foreign land and to a foreign culture and enjoy these stories as much as I have ... "

-Mary L. Jones, Introduction

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524510930

Dorila A. Marting

Dorila A. Marting gives us a riveting portrait of a land and a culture very unlike our own. At the same time, her universal themes—the eternal struggle between the generations, the ties that bind—make for an astonishing debut novel filled with colorful characters and intriguing situations anyone can relate to. Coming to the United States as an immigrant, Dorila A. Marting is proud to be a naturalized American citizen. From 1959 to 1968, the author was a correspondent for the Arizona Republic in Phoenix and the Arizona Daily Sun of Flagstaff. A member of Arizona Press Women and the National Association of Press Women, she has received ten State Press awards and one national award for her journalism. Following graduate work at the University of Arizona, she became a Spanish language and ESL teacher. Now in her golden years at age eighty-seven, Marting is in perfect health and continues to write creatively from her home in Tucson.

Book preview

~The Quechua Wedding

A long time ago there were two separate haciendas in the Province of Pomabamba, Perú, and each had its own rules and restrictions especially in cases of marriage, but there were rumors that Canchi from one hacienda and Mañu from the other were exchanging fluttering eyewinks and giggles. This behavior had to be reported to the caporales (supervisors) of the communities of Quechuas.

The hacendado (hacienda owner) usually inherited vast land from his ancestors, used for agriculture and livestock. The Quechua Indians were born, reared and died in the same place and knew no other type of life. Each couple was given a generous piece of land to build their home, to grow cereals, grains and tubers of all kinds, vegetables and small animals. They loved their patrón and patrona because they took care of all their needs in times of marriage or sickness, and supplied food in case of natural disasters, child birth and death. They were like children not resolving their own problems. When their babies were baptized, the babies received new clothes. As a group, they planted the grains and tubers, weeded them, harvested them and carried the earth’s products in huge sacks to the hacendados’ home downtown, in the city of Pomabamba. They took turns in looking after the cattle and the sheep. Their leader, usually a mestizo who earned a salary, kept a detailed record of all the activities of the men and women. The system of mitas was still in use. To work for the entire week, a couple of Indians was sent to the hacendados’ home. They usually loved to go there to taste good food, to drink coffee with the cook and the maid and to look around the community to buy little trinkets to take home if their assigned duties for the day were completed. It was a good life. What would a man do? He carried water on his back in a barrel and deposited it in huge clay pots for everyday use. He fed the horses and poured water for them. In the afternoons, he did some handiwork assigned by the patron. From time to time, he took a sack of wheat to the Molino de Agua (Water Mill), also the property of the landlord, located about three miles away from the city; it was operated by another group of Indians who knew how to run it. The two circular huge stone grinders were made of granite. There was a wooden box with a small opening on the bottom; it was suspended above two grinding granite wheels that turned the grain into powder. The ground grain fell through the small hole into a square wooden container. They knew how much water to release in order to spin the stones faster and faster. The white powder was collected in white, cotton sacks.

What did the woman do? She ground by hand grains other than wheat using the grind-stones located in the kitchen. In the afternoons, she sifted the wheat flour in a special room using three types of handmade sifters: The whole wheat was usually for the servants, the wheat flower for everyday bread, and the finest white flower to bake bizcochos, pound cakes and cookies. At least one or two days of the week, she washed the clothes and starched the sheets and tablecloths. The regular maid did the ironing.

Back in the puna (high Andean land) Canchi was not dressed in her everyday old clothes as a sheep herder. Instead, she was wearing her new, yellow petticoat and embroidered black skirt, open in front. She spent her time looking down at the quiet pool to see her own reflection. What she saw there, she liked. She looked pretty, pretty enough to be Mañu’s sweetheart. Her intimate thoughts were with him all of the time except when she was asleep; even then she was dreaming of him. Then, one day as she was herding the sheep assisted by the sheep dog, she decided to look at herself again in the pool and then sit there to comb her silky, long hair into long braids to be tied at the end with red yarn. She was hoping that Mañu would pass by with the bulls and cows he was herding for his master from the neighboring hacienda. Therefore, she neglected to gather the tangled and loose hair as she usually did to obey her grandmother’s request.

The young lover did not come but she could hear in the distance his heartbreaking, romantic tune on his flute which was amplified by an echo between the two blue mountains. She knew that he loved her very much. He was a gifted flute player! His grandfather had made the flute for him from the long, thin bone of a dead child’s arm or leg. It made the best sound ever heard in that region.

At home, Canchi was taciturn. Her grandmother guessed well. She had lost her tancash (tangled hair) and the love-crazy birds probably took the hair into their nests and made love. As a result Canchi was bewitched and became the victim of a spell.

At the other hacienda, the elders were commenting that Mañu had become very creative with his flute. They affirmed that he was in love with that girl from the other hacienda. This would be an impossible love. If those landlords allowed a mixed marriage even just one time, they would lose control of their people! The Indians would move away anywhere they wished. Their caporal (supervisor) probably already knew about what was about to happen. That young couple could elope before their eyes.

No sooner said than done. The caporal had already told Canchi’s parents that the girl had reached the age of marriage and that there was a middle-aged widower that needed a wife. He was a good man. Their patrón and patrona would be delighted to hear about the upcoming wedding. Huaira (Wind) was his name.

Canchi had no feelings for Huaira. She poisoned him with her looks. When he tried to take a grain of parched corn from her bag, she hit him with her spinning stick. She hit him on his back with a lump of clay. Her folks were angry because she did not take a good care of her tangled hair. She should have put it away in her little bag, with her cut nails and saliva, and burned them, so that in the next world her soul would not have to go lamenting in search of them.

The caporal and the patrona had a meeting. She decided that Canchi should be married quickly to avoid a conflict with their friends of the other hacienda. She thought that Huaira was a good man and a hard worker although he was old enough to be Canchi’s father or even grandfather. She thought that the arrival of new babies would make the couple happy even though she did not love the old man. The smiling caporal kissed the lady’s hand and went home with definite plans.

The sun’s red beard was touching the purple hills when the couple and the guests finished the wedding dinner. Canchi was dressed in her best, but her steps were heavy and she needed quite a few pushes in order to continue with the ceremony. The Quechua mayor of this Indian village wore his black cape and carried his silver-tipped walking stick, and he felt very important and pleasant. The old bridegroom looked well-dressed and eager to have Canchi in his arms.

First, the mayor collected his money which amounted to one hundred and thirty cents in fat two-pennies and skinny one-pennies. Then he made a long speech on how the couple should behave, love and work. Canchi was not listening. Her thoughts were with Mañu. The mayor noticed the bride’s attitude and said, If the wife goes astray, her husband should cut off her hair. Then he placed on their necks the caruash yuggo, the wooden thing they use on a team of bulls, and covered them with the poncho saying, "Huaira, from now on Canchi is your huarmy (wife), and to the girl, Huaira is your ollggo (husband)."

Then the couple and all their friends retired to the home of the husband. A little new hut was prepared there and into it quickly the couple was placed. The godmother of the couple was well-to-do because she had a milk cow and a kitchen full of guinea pigs. She wanted to show off her wealth by buying a shiny padlock for the humble door where the newlyweds would be. The girl was so rebellious that the godmother believed the bride should be locked up with her new husband, so that she would not escape. The godmother then stepped forward, turned the key and dropped it into her bosom.

The moon was as full and white as freshly made cheese and the relatives and guests remained there throughout the night on the little patio or on the surrounding corn field except for the unmarried ones who had to go home because it would not be good for them to witness couples making love. The guests drank chicha and the men chewed their coca leaves. The roncadoras (big tambours) and the flutes provided lively music. Everyone danced and became happier the more they drank the chicha. After midnight, they went to bed with their partners.

The next morning, the gifts from the hacendados arrived: pink yardage for the bride and white cloth for the bridegroom’s shirts and some money to spend on their honeymoon. Before the door of the hut, more humble gifts were carefully placed: a manca (clay pot), a puiñu (clay pitcher), pucucuna (wooden dishes), huishllacuna (wooden spoons) and ñaggtsacuna (horn combs). For the bridegroom: a chucu (woolen hat), a cushhua (woolen shirt), a huachucu (woolen belt) and a poncho (cloak). For both of them: A pair of guinea pigs, a rooster and a hen, a young boar and his sow.

The caporal gave orders for every guest to remain there to help out with the construction of a new humble home for the couple until at least the walls were up.

After a few years, if they proved fruitful or if they were happy with each other, the couple would return to the mayor for his final approval of their marriage. Otherwise, they would be free to go on as single people and find other partners.

Now it was time for Canchi and Huaira to be awakened, so the godmother pulled out the key to unlock the door. Come out! she called. Everyone stretched his neck to have a first glance of the embarrassed couple. When no one appeared at the door, the group started calling some more, saying, The sun is up shining on your face! They giggled, Wake up!

The worried godmother decided to go in. Huaira was sound asleep. He was sleeping like an angel. Canchi was not there! A rope ladder dangled from the smoke-hole.

A group of men carried Huaira out to awaken him, but they could not. He was unconscious. They sniffed his breath. "Macha masha (the narcotic flower by that name) put in his chicha! They concluded. Where did she go?

She said that she would jump into the lake, a tearful girlfriend remembered.

No doctor could cure her bewitchment! cried the mother of the bride.

To which the bridegroom’s aging mother retaliated, You bring shame on us. Your no-good daughter was not brought up right.

At the same time, the two fathers-in-laws were menacing at each other with their walking sticks. The caporal broke up the fight and ordered everyone to be quiet! Although the country was searched far and wide, neither Canchi nor Mañu was to be found. They had vanished like a bubble.

Then on a golden dawn a year from that day, Canchi was sitting on the doorstep of her own parents’ home, with her own little bundle. She had brought her baby boy to say good morning to his grandpa and grandma. Mañu was hiding around the corner. He had come to ask for forgiveness. No one must see them. No one!

Poor Canchi murmured, I love this place! I miss you! I miss my pigs! I cannot stay here.

While her mother was hurrying preparing a hot potato soup, Canchi went to the sty to explain to her pigs why she had abandoned them.

When it was time to leave, the family members all cried and laughed as they passed around the baby from arm to arm to hug and kiss him. Canchi wept as if her heart would break.

When our baby starts to walk and take his first steps, we will be back, the young couple said. "Meanwhile, convince the caporal to intercede for us. We do not want to be separated."

What is the baby’s name? Canchi’s parents inquired.

His name is Sinshi. He was named after my paternal grandfather. Smiles returned to their faces.

Where are you living? the parents inquired.

Near Marañon, in the hot valleys. Mañu earns some money picking up coffee beans and some coca leaves. It is hot and hard to live there. We miss this place." Canchi wiped her tears as they all hugged again and said goodbye.

Before another year was up, the two caporales from the two haciendas got together and discussed how to solve this problem amicably before appealing to the landlords for a solution. One of them said, Canchi’s husband is so embarrassed that he would give anything to move away from where he lives, preferably to the other hacienda where a widow about his age would give anything to have him for a second husband.

"A wonderful idea! We will exchange the two men. The hacendados have good relations with each other. They do not want a war. Definitely, they do not want the Indians moving here and there without their consent. As it is, everyone is content.

The deal was made just for this one time. Canchi, Mañu and the baby were allowed to come home. The mayor came quietly and married the couple after having annulled the first marriage of Canchi and Huaira.