Chapter 21: The Mystery of the Valley of the Gods

On Thursday we were invited to the village for the summer solstice. The sun was the most important thing in the life of the Inca. The sun goddess Inti was honoured in rituals and festivals from the beginning of the Inca era, allegedly even with human sacrifices. I had read about the ‘Inti Raymi’, the annual winter solstice festival in Peru, seen beautiful photos of processions and celebrations in Cusco and at Machu Picchu.

However, Luisa had told me indignantly that this was not the real festival for Inti, her sun god. This would be organized for the mestizos and tourists so that money would come into the country and nobody would be able to see the true relationship between the Indios and their chief god. June would also be more suitable weather for foreigners to party, so good for tourism.

Luisa grabbed my shoulders. “How stupid should we Indians be to honour our God on the day when he shows himself least, when the day is the shortest of the year. Michael, you have been chosen as the first foreigner to learn our secret.”

I looked questioningly at my first wife. “Trust me, my dear. Nuria and Alonso have chosen you. You will experience something unique today. You will become our high priest, our apunchik, god and human in one.” I smiled at Luisa. She looked at me, I didn’t believe a word she said.

“Michael, please be nice. Trust me. Today in our ‘Hatun Wak’a’, in the most unique sanctuary of our ancestors, you will experience a miracle. I don’t know it either, but you of all people will never understand if you don’t trust me, if you don’t try to believe in our gods.” Her eyes looked at me with an eerie look as if she wanted to hypnotize me, changed to a charming smile, took my hands, and gave a wet smack on my lips.

We could hear the special atmosphere from afar. Unusual, no parrot could be heard. Drums and tone woods dominated all other noises. Unusual dances and songs were performed, of course doing justice to the old age of the women, but still impressive. Once again, I marvelled at what the many women, all in the 70s, were capable of. Our girls danced along immediately. It was evident the four who worked in the village had practiced the dances and were proudly showing off their skills. Mayari danced with Luisa’s mother Djamila, of course at a slower pace appropriate to her pregnancy.

At the request of the village elders, Ananda had decorated a rock wall with two charcoal drawings. She got a lot of praise from me for the artistic representations. When she showed me how adventurous the pregnant young woman had climbed the rock with unsecured ladders, I gasped, but that didn’t change the wonderful result.

Incan Symbol of life and prosperity

Ananda had painted the image freehand on the rocks, using charred branches to paint the red-grey rocks. It was a masterpiece.

A huge fire was burning in front of the rock with the drawing. Herbs were thrown in again and again. A spicy, slightly intoxicating scent wafted over to us viewers. The feast consisted of mashed corn and potatoes, wonderfully seasoned and garnished with small pieces of grilled meat. The wine flowed freely; some women were downright high.

Nuria and Alonso led the celebration. The sickly old Indio woman had come alive today. She conducted the feast, clapping her hands, summoning five women dressed in yellow robes. I had to look twice to see them with their gorgeous flower arrangements partially obscuring their heads. I was amazed. It was Olivia, Esther, Kira, Isabella and Fahsai circling the fire with practiced steps. Alonso played a melody on an old pan flute, but soon lost his strength. Isabella jumped over and continued the game. She had internalised the melody in no time.

Leonie, who is expected to be in her last week of pregnancy, was blessed by Nuria and wrapped in warm towels by two women. All the women in the village swayed to the unusual sounds of Alonso’s wife in a circle around the heavily pregnant Indian woman. Luisa told me that the gods blessed Leonie’s child. It would be a worthy Indio, a direct descendant of an Inca priest.

Nuria held a strange structure in her hand, pointing it at the sun and proclaiming the approaching time of Inti’s apparition. I looked at Luisa in disbelief as she translated the message for me. “Trust me Michael, trust us Indios, please.”

She took my hand and led me to Nuria, whom I politely greeted with a deep bow. She put her cold hands on my temples, looked deep into my eyes and after a short time nodded to Alonso as if she had checked my thoughts. The heavily pregnant Leonie and Olivia took the arm of the woman, the priestess, as Luisa said, and they walked towards the other rock wall, on which a special image had also been blackened. Alonso and his wife followed, then Luisa with me, then the four teenagers from the palazzo dressed in yellow.

Behind our procession, Miguel drew a green garland of twigs and large leaves between two rocks and positioned himself so that no one could follow us.

In front of the cliff Nuria bowed low and called out a throaty singsong. Alonso, Olivia, and Leonie agreed. A huge symbol was drawn on the wall, maybe five meters high. It featured an ancient Incan depiction of the sun god Inti carved into the almost yellow-coloured rock. Kira whispered to me that Ananda and they had cleaned the indentations carved in the rock and coated them with a tincture.

Sun god Inti

Oh, our children, they were very special. I nodded appreciatively to Kira, although I felt more like scolding. When I imagined how the two girls had worked on the almost vertical cliff without scaffolding, I feared for their health, for their lives.

As we passed the side of the wall, I suddenly saw an opening between the two huge rocks, a small tunnel that could only be passed by a single person. The Indians fit through standing, we had to bend down to avoid hitting our heads. I looked back uncertainly. Luisa stroked my hair. “Michael, trust Nuria. Everything will be fine.”

Nuria walked ahead, leaning on the walls for support. Soon we were all in a cave lit by a very faint twilight. You couldn’t see anyone or anything. There was no smell; the air seemed totally dry. I touched a rock with my hand. It too was bone dry. I tried to orientate myself in the darkness, listening to the peculiar sounds of Alonso and his wife, which they produced with a kind of mandolin and violin, only with one or two strings. I was scared. I looked uncertainly at Luisa and the four young women. They were totally moved by the ceremony and didn’t think of any danger. ’Now an earthquake, we would inevitably be lost,’ flashed through my head.

Either my eyes were adjusting to the darkness, or someone was controlling the indirect light. In any case, it was getting brighter by the minute. Now I could see many Inca ornaments on one wall. They seemed to be made of pure gold.

Nuria assigned me a place in the largest rock alcove. I had counted twelve such rock caves. Above each was also a work of art made of gold. With me stood a strong warrior. Above his head he held a mighty bird, probably a condor. A puma stood at the warrior’s side, and a snake lay at his feet. It showed, so to speak, all three worlds of the Incas, the upper world (Hanan Pacha), the earthly world (Kay Pacha) and the underworld, the world of the dead (Ukhu Pacha). I didn’t know that at the time, I only read about it later.

Leonie sat next to me, followed by Olivia and Luisa. Nuria stood in front of us; Alonso and his wife each were holding a hand. When the three of them started a melodic, almost plaintive song, it slowly got creepy for me. What was that supposed to be? Suddenly the old woman spoke in a rather strong voice, Olivia translated.

“Stranger white man. You came to our valley, helped us all, and proved yourself worthy of our gods. Many believe you are our Apunchik, the savoir of the Incas. The three of us, who have gotten too old to be able to celebrate the next festival with Inti, are now passing on our knowledge to the best Indians in the Valley of the Gods, to Leonie, to Olivia and to Luisa. Actually, we should give it to ordained young men, but there are none with us. Otherwise, we see no way of preserving and passing on the legacy of our ancestors.”

I summed up the speech like this. It took a while to understand certain sequences through translation and queries from Olivia. Everyone made a great effort so that I understood the meaning of the message. Then Alonso spoke to the three women, apparently with a similar message. It has not been translated. Nuria put her hands on my temples, first on me, then on the other three chosen ones, rubbing in a scented paste. She murmured imploring words.

In the meantime, it was almost daylight in the cave, although no light source could be seen. The light literally came out of the ceiling and the rock walls, incomprehensible. There were eight other niches in the cave, but each was marked with a large stone as unusable or not permitted for use.

The four young women from the palazzo, dressed in yellow, now also received incantations and the herbal elixir on their foreheads.

“You, stranger, are our Apunchik, Emissary of the God of the Mountains, from tonight. Today you receive power over the mountains, the earth, the plants, and the animals. We ask you to use your power to protect all people in the valley, but especially these three new guardians of our lore.” Alonso pointed to Leonie, Olivia, and Luisa. “Are you ready for this?”

When I tried to get up to answer, Nuria was startled. “Stay!” We should lean our backs. Nuria adjusted the back of my head to a golden amulet in the niche. Contrary to expectations, the metal was very pleasant, also pleasantly warm. My seat had also warmed up by itself. Through the intense light I recognized shimmering golden cables on the ceiling. Across from me hung terrifying masks, probably made of gold. Where did all this equipment come from? What did the Indians intend for us?

The four girls in yellow came to us. Fahsai was placed on my lap, her back against me, as was done in the other three booths. We should all close our eyes. Alonso’s wife fixed the position of the girl on my body when Nuria and Alonso left the cave in a hurry. What were they afraid of? I would have liked to hurry outside too, but it was too late. There was a hum like I knew from high-tension power lines.

Just as Alonso’s wife Sofia sat down on a wooden bench across from us, so I was cheating, against Nuria’s instructions, looking at what was happening with slightly open eyes, a bright ray of light flashed through the cave. I felt as if lightning had struck near me, as I had experienced in North America years before. My head was throbbing, a flicker, a vibration of electricity in the air. It smelled burnt. At first I was blind, dazzled by the glaring light. I felt for Fahsai with concern, which made me feel like I was powerless.

“What was that Michael?” She was awake, alive. Thank God.

I had the same question as Fahsai. What had the three done to us? Angry on the inside, I helped Fahsai to his feet and jumped up, but Luisa said the same words as before noon. “Trust us Michael. Inti gave us strength and knowledge.”

Nuria re-joined us in the cave. She said to Fahsai and me, “You have received the necessary strength and power over our valley, over our treasures, over our gold, additionally the strength of thought and kindness. Our last priests passed their knowledge to you at this very moment.”

I looked at Nuria doubtfully, but my instincts automatically agreed with her. My head was completely ready to believe it, even though, as a scientist, I had hundreds of questions. We learned that Leonie and Kira received the power of nature and knowledge about agriculture and animal husbandry in the neighbouring grotto. Leonie was referred to as ‘Rahò Mama Pacha’ or ‘Rahò Pachamama’, the chosen daughter of the ‘Mother of the Earth’, i.e. the goddess of the earth and fertility.

As Luisa whispered to me, Olivia would have gained the power of wisdom and Isabella, still sitting stunned on Olivia’s lap, would have gained the strength of faith. Luisa would have been chosen by Inti as the guardian of the culture and art of the Incas. Esther would have received the magic of healing and procreation in the same grotto, was described by Nuria as ‘Rahò Mama Koka’, daughter of the goddess of health, fertility and joy.

Then Alonso got strict. “You are the initiates. It is your duty not to tell anyone about it. Only the eleven of us know the secret of our ‘Hatun Wak’a’. He has bestowed wisdom and kindness on our leaders for hundreds of years.” Impressively, almost imploringly, he looked at us in turn. Then something particularly important followed, which also explained why he had fled the vault with Nuria.

“Once our ancestors had it very bad, there were storms and bad harvests. The high priests as well as those of the two other great peoples met here in the cave to experience the consecration of Inti’s a second time. They believed that this would give them the power to save their people. All eleven leaders of the then most powerful peoples in America died suddenly, only the new Inca high priest survived, who had never been in the grotto up to that day. Unfortunately, Qun Sopay, the priest, was weak, our people fared even worse, and the teachings were no longer fully transmitted. The other two tribes fared even worse, we are told, because all their priests died. But remember one thing, this is extremely important: Whoever claims Inti’s mercy the second time will not survive.”

To me all these words were mumbo-jumbo, but I was interested in the light and electricity thing. There had to be a sophisticated system of reflections and light bundling in the cave that triggered these effects in the cave when the sun was in a certain position. I wanted to investigate that later. At that moment I was hoping for quick relief, because somehow everything was oppressive, unusual, irritating to nerves and emotions. Only one desire burned in me, out of the cave.

When Fahsai and Luisa took my hands, I lost my restlessness. It all suddenly seemed so clear, so natural. The experience made some sense. Everyone had received additional strength from divine hands, so to speak, and according to their personal strengths. It was assigned to us by people who knew us well and respected us for our work. Not bad for a kind of religion if its teaching went hand in hand with a consolidation of each participant’s existing strengths. Those who believed in this would have additional self-confidence, certainty about their actions. That was the best religion I knew.

Finally, Nuria led us outside. It was amazing how she climbed the incline in the tunnel, which was maybe ten meters long, without help. I made sure that each of the seven participants was OK. Everyone was fine, even Leonie with her huge pregnant womb. Luisa said to the four young women, “And you four pregnant women will be fine. Your children also received part of the knowledge and power in your womb.”

“Am I pregnant, Luisa?” Fahsai was amazed.

Luisa took Esther’s hand and put it on Fahsai’s body. Esther stammered in astonishment, “Fahsai, I don’t know, it seems so. It feels very delicate, almost like Kira. But I don’t think you can tell when you’re pregnant like that, can you?”

“Enough now, Luisa. We all played well. But let’s think for now. I don’t believe a word your priestess says until I see a change, an improvement in myself or in the rest of you. I forbid you to talk about it for a week. Please tell me if you’re not feeling well or if you notice a clear change in yourself.” Everyone nodded in agreement. Why did I get involved? We might as well have been dead if there had been a malfunction.

Dusk had begun outside. Without us there had been a big party. The younger ones had pushed the fire together, Sula and a few others jumped over it. We got another dessert that Alejandra had prepared in the kitchen at the Casa. A beautiful day came to an end for the inhabitants of the valley but not for me. However, I still had to think about the hour in the cave. I had my doubts that it was having any effect, but I was even more concerned if anyone had been harmed by the light blast and its impact on our heads.

Nuria had exhausted herself completely. She lay in a wicker chair looking ready to die. Alonso, also was sunk. His wife poured him a drink. Leonie, the niece of the High Priestess, fed the exhausted woman soup, but the food ran out of the corners of her mouth onto her festive robe.

Isabella played a song with the pan flute. It echoed between the rock walls, incredibly solemn. At the end, Luisa sang her self-made song again, which echoed here in the rock niche several times amplified. I was wrong, but Luisa’s singing was more impressive than ever. Was it my feelings, Luisa’s art, or the fantastic location of the fairground?

I cautiously crept to the tunnel. It seemed the opening had disappeared; no entrance could be seen. However, my fingers could feel cracks, a perfectly fitting boulder blocked the entrance. Out of nowhere, Miguel appeared. He smiled at me and easily shook my hand, which I squeezed tightly as if we were long-time comrades. He noticed my doubts about the locked tunnel. It was a mystery to me how he had managed to fit such a large boulder with millimetre precision. At the moment I saw no possibility of exploring the vault later that day as I had planned. Without precise knowledge of the type of closure I would never be able to open the tunnel.

On the way home, the young women argued vigorously. It had been a nice party, but our girls had never seen the villagers like this before. The girls laughed at some incidents of how some had behaved intoxicated or dizzy. Luckily, I hadn’t seen everything for myself, which my ladies reported laughing or indignant. What surprised me was a fact. No one asked about our absence as if they hadn’t noticed. Very unusual, somehow everything was completely extraordinary.

The next day we had a party at the palazzo. There was a lot of singing and dancing. We thought of last year’s flood and were happy about the particularly nice weather. But the mood was not euphoric. One could clearly feel how the pregnancies put more and more strain on some young women.

Christmas Eve followed just two days later with a nativity play in the village. Mayari, Isabella, Kira, and Daja showed us a loving spectacle. Finally, Babette, Sula, and Ananda entered as the three kings from the east, although it was not yet the sixth of January. The villagers knew the story and were not sparing in their applause. This time all had received only some salt and a pound of sugar, along with plates of the exquisite china we had no use for. For us there were two apples and a small net with nuts. The girls were happy. It was the first apples of the new harvest again.

We had prepared the girls in the palace for a Christmas without presents. The surprise was all the bigger when there was a small box on every seat at the dining table. Babette had made the boxes out of plumbing supplies and artfully tied a bow around them. But before the gifts could be unwrapped, everyone should earn their gift. Two days ago, Babette asked everyone to prepare a small cultural contribution for Christmas Eve. It was great again. Anyone who has access to the Internet and other media every day will certainly never be able to understand the achievements of our girls, but we three adults shook hands. We were touched. There were new songs, a pantomime, a poem, a small choir; the mood was great. Now everyone was allowed to their present in their place.

In each of the boxes lay an Inca cross, a chakana. It was pure gold, secretly cast and polished in a mould by Babette and myself in the tinsmith’s workshop. Each gift weighed approximately sixty grams. Babette said it was the most important memento of our time here, each worth more than $3,000, but she hoped nobody ever had to sell them. And then our Romanian made a spectacular statement. “Buddies, this is just metal though, totally worthless right now, can’t be eaten, can’t be petted, or loved. It meant a lot to the Incas, maybe to the villagers too, but only one thing matters to me. My greatest gift is growing here in me, my Felix. Guys, isn’t that awesome, soon I’ll have a child of my own.” Everyone cheered her. The young women got together, thanked Babette, and stroked each other’s bodies.

The absolute highlight of the days off was the birth of Leonie on Boxing Day. Before I knew it, the brave Peruvian woman was already holding her Wayna in her arms. Wayna was a male given name in Quechua. At first, I believed in a new-born girl. But it was a boy, what a joy for the old people from the village, but also for the pregnant women. After the uncomplicated birth, I let our young ladies believe that it would be just as easy for them. On the contrary, I was terrified of problems and injuries in the forthcoming births.

It was my seventh child, but unlike the children born so far, Wayna looked nothing like me. It was a typical Inca baby, broad head, black hair, and dark brown eyes. Nobody would later recognize my European genes at first glance. Maybe that was good. However, Leonie was happy about my congratulations and my heartfelt touching.

Olivia reported to me the next day how important the baptism of Olivia’s son according to Inca-rules had been. Shortly after his birth, Nuria would have made Leonie’s son the only rightful heir of her family and thus later the administrator of the wisdom of the Inca priests, if he had been baptized by the Apunchik himself. He would have the blood of the Incas and of a true Apunchik, an emissary of the god of the mountains. Leonie and Olivia assured that they would absolutely respect and fulfil this wish.