Chapter 10: First Child Baptism in Our Valley - Ramona’s Birth

The next Saturday I had planned the baptism of our first-born child. Michael, Olivia’s son, was only nine weeks old; there was actually no need to rush. However, I had the feeling that gradually there were only the births and the partnerships as highlights for individuals, as a team we experienced far too few emotional similarities from my point of view. Luisa agreed with me, every day went almost uniformly. The optimistic and joyful mood among the girls was partly absent from her point of view.

Olivia wanted to have her child baptized Catholic, which corresponded to her religion inherited by her mother, while Luisa wanted to have her son consecrated according to the Inca tradition. For this purpose, my dear ‘first wife’ had consulted with Nuria for a long time. There was a basic rule among the Incas that only selected boys fathered by Inca priests were allowed to be ordained. Nuria saw the case of Luisa and Olivia very differently. While our son Tupac Umachik was fathered by me, an alleged apunchik, he would have divine blood in him and could be ordained an Inca leader. On the other hand, Michael Alekso Alcatra, Olivia’s son, would have been conceived by an ungodly stranger in bad faith, that is, an irrevocable child.

This did not suit me at all, but Luisa was deeply convinced that her son was the saviour of the mountain peoples and therefore absolutely had to be consecrated differently from Olivia’s Michael. At first, I did not want to do any consecration, but it was a good opportunity to contribute something to the morals of everyone in the valley. It was explained to me in detail how boys were cared for by the Inca priests for a day, placed in the ‘tears of the sun’, a tub of pure gold, and then washed off with warm water. To do this, they received an anointing of their head from forehead to neck with an ointment containing the ‘tears of the Moon’, that is, Inca silver. This was not feasible for us and in no case in my interest. Therefore, I wanted to come up with a father ritual that could have the feeling of the divine for Luisa, and Olivia’s child officially confirmed the name and date of birth on an equal footing, and both children could be irrevocably accepted into our community.

So, I interweaved all the legends I knew and the Inca rituals into our ‘paradise ritual’. If the mental influence of people in the Middle Age contributed to the positive development of society, this should also be possible for us.

I briefly outlined my thoughts:

Mother and child are expected at the entrance. Mother gives reason for baptism of her child. Mother carries her child in. All form a guard of honour. The child is given to the high priestess. High Priestess places child in the ‘Tears of the Sun’, a golden block. High priestess washes face clean with warm water. Helper anoint forehead with silver-colour ointment. High priestess lays child on blanket on the floor. The father raises the child, thereby recognizing him as his child. Father loudly announces the name of the child. Father asks community if child is accepted into the community. In the chorus: “Yes, our child, our child, our child.” Father, through Alonso, has the child consecrated Christian and blessed with water. Father carries child to mother, hands over her child and gift for child. Community solemnly bestows birth and baptism certificate. Common singing

Of course, I discussed this with Luisa and with Ramona, who agreed to my proposal after a short consultation. Together with Carmen and Olivia, we also discussed the process with Nuria and Alonso. Alonso knew the baptismal formula in Spanish but was ready to learn it in English.

Despite the shortness of the preparation time, I hoped to be able to extract a golden bowl from the huge boulder. Together with Babette and Sula, who had to promise me silence, I went to the oversized stone cube for gold extraction, but the gold could not be removed so easily. As a result, a naive and childish thought occurred to me, to try the ground-to-ground missiles once and thus to blow up the rock. We all informed via radio that a new, particularly loud weapon was being tried out.

It was very convenient for me to have another weapon, the explosive power of which I did not yet know. From the road, the block was about hundred meters away. We drove a gun attached to a buggy to the most convenient place on the road and secured the gun with large stones against rolling back in case of too strong a setback. My first shot hissed just past but shook the mountain massif behind it. Other smaller chunks came loose and rolled down the mountain.

The second shot hit the target, as it looked, with the slightest effect. Shot 3 from me followed, then Babette was allowed to fire two shots with the other type of projectile. These were actually a kind of surface-to-air missiles with a lower explosive force, but the block suddenly clearly showed cracks. Babette got two bazookas from the store plant to try out this weapon as well. The girls were lying in a hollow near the rock on command; I put one bazooka on, shot and threw myself behind the embankment to the ladies. There was a crash, but the rock stood compact as before.

Now Babette was allowed to try the weapon, it was still too heavy for Sula. Babette looked after her shot as if paralysed, and then I grabbed her to the ground. Soon fragments of rocks flew over our heads, but Babette was lying under me. Of course, I had to scold her a little; she could have been seriously injured. Although this try was of great benefit, as it turned out later.

The two hits with the bazooka shells had driven the rock further apart. By means of two crowbars, the huge monolith disintegrated into five parts. Only a part contained the larger part of the gold deposit, or rather, consisted almost only of gold with smaller rock deposits. However, it was so heavy that even the three of us could not move it. Finally, Babette got the little excavator, but the load was too heavy for it too. We had success by partial lifting and dropping again at some point. We had three different large gold-containing fragments, which Babette drove one by one to the plumber’s workshop. Sula meanwhile made herself ‘rich’, as she said, and collected smaller pieces of gold in her basket. When she tried to lift it, the bottom of the basket tore. We collected several more chunks and covered them with twigs and stones. It was estimated that this was at least 60 to 80 kilograms of gold. It was great. One question stood, could we ever use that?

We still helped Babette to load the biggest chunk. In summary, it took us two more days to form a chunk into a piece with an incorporated shell-like depression. With a cutting torch I shared a larger piece. Babette hammered the metal systematically. Soon it became oval with an elongated depression. This effort was worth it to me, because every christening or consecration of a child with us should be a very special highlight.

Ramona had taken up my idea and reworked the song “Born in the USA” together with Esther to “Born in the paradise”. When I heard Esther’s voice accompanied by Kira’s drumbeats for the first time, I was blown away. Soon, on the second evening, all my dear ones clapped the beats, but only knew our line “Born in the paradise”. This was enough to turn the great hall into a madhouse again and again for five to ten minutes. Isabella and Mayari developed a rhythmic jumping staccato for this. Even on Friday evening, when it was once again very cool through the hall, almost everyone was sweating from hopping, dancing, and singing. But everyone was told not to sing the melody in the presence of Olivia. It should be a big surprise.

Shortly after lunch, we conducted the dress rehearsal for the consecration of Olivia’s son. Babette and Sula had covered the baptismal bed with foil for camouflage and placed it on a stack of two pallets. There were so many branches and flowers piled up over the pallets, it looked as if the basin was sinking into a green hill. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a doll to practice with; this toy was completely missing in the valley. The Rus had expected only boys, and the kidnapped girls were not supposed to be here for puppet shows. But a beautiful piece of wood also did it for the dress rehearsal.

We explained the march in of the mother and her child, where everyone has to stand, set up the chairs for the guests from the village, and improvised. Before handing over the child to the ‘High Priestess’, Ramona explained that she and Esther had rehearsed a solemn song, which four girls would accompany humming. Since I was even more excited about the ceremony, it was also a surprise for me. My words when picking up the ‘child’ were not yet appropriate; I had to think about it better. Three times we had to practice the ‘Yes, it’s our child’ with the girls until it sounded really solemn.

Of course, the song ‘Born in the paradise’ worked best. Immediately the girls were much too exuberant, but we made it clear to them that a child’s consecration was not a spectacle and that the song should be sung solemnly until the baptism was completed.

Everywhere was further decorated. The prepared buggy for picking up mother and child looked like a wedding carriage. There were masses of flowers on the stairs and on the floor of the vestibule. The girls kept coming up with new ideas; I had to slow them down.

Luisa had helped in the kitchen for the first time since her birth. Everything was prepared. All the people in the valley except Carmen with her two newborns were supposed to participate in the celebration. Then the villagers arrived in smaller groups. Suddenly something amazing happened. Daja and Ananda drove up two strollers, Carmen ran behind them. My loved ones had also allowed Carmen to participate. At 4pm Babette and Sula fired two flares and the car driven by Zarina started moving from the casa with Olivia and Michael and Alejandra. Sula and Babette stood waving laurel branches at the gate to close it after entering.

What followed now was such an emotionally moving hour; I am already in tears again when I write it down. Fortunately, Priya had recorded everything with the camera, because many of us later no longer knew what was happening and how solemnly it had passed.

My task was to lead the child’s mother into the hall. During the invasion, Ramona played the melody of “A child is born” with guitar and Isabella with saxophone. When we arrived at the centre my two assistants unveiled the golden baptismal font. This was a complete surprise to most in the room. Leonie ran to the font and shouted to all Peruvians in Quechua: “It’s the ‘tears of the sun’, it’s pure gold.” The reaction of the villagers, including Olivia, was an incredulous amazement. Esther’s golden voice started.

“A ray of hope flickers in the sky –

A tiny star lights up way up high –

All across the land, dawns a brand-new morn –

This comes to pass when a child is born.”

My knees were shaking; it was so solemn it was almost unbearable. When Ramona then recited in chanting:

“And all of this happens because the world is waiting,

Waiting for one child, black, white, yellow, no one knows,

But a child that will grow up and turn tears to laughter,

Hate to love, war to peace and everyone to everyone’s neighbour,

And misery and suffering will be words to be forgotten forever.”

When a Child Is Born - Johnny Mathis

As the last verse of Esther’s song followed, the girls’ hum grew louder and louder. In addition, Isabella enticed with happy tones of her saxophone. Ramona had put down her guitar. She really looked like a priestess in her long lime green maternity gown and pinned-up hair accessory. She took Olivia’s Michael, put him in the basin and spoke words about gratitude, pride, and the future. Then she anointed him with a silver colour cream. Again, the Peruvians cried out in Quechua: “Yes, the tears of the moon.”

Ramona went to Nuria and had the child kiss her forehead. Then Alonso lifted the cross he had brought with him, and made three crosses over the boy, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” The celebrant pours water on the head of the baptized, which was crying quite hard now, especially when Ramona put him on a blanket on the floor. I picked up the child, said that I was not the father but would love and support him like a father.

“I announce your name, Michael Alekso Alcatra, on behalf of your dear mother. Do you want to take this child into your community?” I asked boomingly in the hall. The girls in practiced singsong: “Yes, it’s our child, our child, our child.” Just as I was about to hand Olivia her Michael, Luisa called loud in Quechua the same words. The village jumped up and repeated the chanting of our girls in their mother tongue. Then, to thunderous applause, I handed the godchild Michael to his mother, who quickly calmed down. Many guests rushed to Olivia and congratulated her.

In the midst of this confusion suddenly came the thunder of Kira’s drum kit. Lenya added the guitar and gave the cue. All my girls sang “Born in the paradise” at the top of their lungs, but not over the top. Esther, Fahsai, and Ramona sang the newly composed interludes, amplified by the microphone. I couldn’t take it anymore, retreated to a corner, ashamed of my tears. Olivia and Alejandra came to me and cried with me in competition, the tiny Michael screamed at the top of his voice. Carmen and Luisa, who didn’t always react so emotionally, also cried with us.

Finally, I realized that I had forgotten Michael’s christening present, but I couldn’t make up for it now. Nuria came to us with unsteady steps. Olivia later told me that Nuria congratulated her on her child. By traditional baptism, Michael would be destined to be a descendant of the Incas. The wise woman, perhaps the only true Inca descendant, would never have experienced a traditional Inca baptism, but today the new Apunchik and the Holy Priestess would have shown her that Inca traditions would live on. I took the woman in my arms and kissed her forehead. She pulled me to the baptismal font, admired it and stroked the golden rim with strange hand movements. She whispered words that Luisa translated to me as Inti’s tears with canonization of the pelvis. Inti was the sun god of the Incas.

The girls had gotten bored before the feast. Kira was now pounding the drums like crazy. The girls sang and jumped to the chorus “Born in the paradise” until Leonie and two other village women joined in. Everyone sang or clapped along. Olivia hugged her son in my arms and jumped happily with the girls. Alejandra took her great-grandson from me so I could mingle with the boisterous crowd. Finally, I clutched Olivia and we hopped to the fantastic tune, hugging each other. Around us, the girls and some women wrapped themselves around us, formed a circle, so to speak, and hopped in place singing loudly. My tension was completely released. When Olivia kissed me lovingly, I flinched a little. What would the villagers say about that? As far as I could see everyone cheered along. Even Nuria crossed her arms over her chest, gave me a friendly nod and bowed slightly. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the wonderful Olivia with all my senses.