Qoyllur Rit’i - Le pèlerinage sacré des Andes - SLICE PEUPLES - DOC COMPLET.mp4

Peru, a long strip of land between the Pacific Ocean and the Amazon jungle, to the west of Brazil. I've been photographing the tribes of this country for 25 years. The Kairos Indians have always impressed me, by the environment in which they live, the high mountains, and by their religion, a mixture of Christianity and Zandan cult. Over the years, I have developed a strong relationship with this people, and this is the fourth report I dedicate to them. I go to the village of Kiko, at 4,200 meters, to share a daily life forged by life at altitude. Then I go to discover one of the most incredible religious gatherings in the world, the Coyuriti. At 4,700 meters, every year, for three days, they gather 70,000 Indians, who come to affirm their faith in a whirlwind of dance, procession, singing and prayer. Peru has seen the greatness and decadence of the Inca Empire, which reigned without partition from the 13th to the 16th century on this territory until the invasion of the Spanish colonists. Today, the Inca descendants make up 45% of the population and are spread over several Indian nations. The village of Kiko is located three hours from Cusco, the former Indian capital. To access it, you have to leave the comfort of the road, travel on a narrow strip of land and cross two hills. As we climb in altitude, the landscape becomes lunar, the temperature glacial, and oxygen is rarified. I walk the last meters of elevation to reach the house of Cesar, who will be my guide during my trip. Back home, finally arrived! As it should be in the Andes, he welcomes me with a few leaves of coca leaves. This place is called Falchayoc. My father built this house in 2002. He lived here with his children and my mother. He was happy here and felt good. He lived peacefully. So my brothers and I also built our houses next door. Today there are five houses. Do you have any idea how many of you live here? In the valley, counting the annexes, there are 86 men. If we add the women and children, we are about 400. Good evening. For the Quiroz, living in altitude is the consequence of the Spanish invasion. Chased from their lands, threatened by the conquistadors, they were forced to flee into the mountains, where no wealth could quench their thirst. Since then, their way of life has hardly changed. The atoll replaces the choum on some roofs, but for the rest, the village seems to be frozen in time. Until recently, the Quico Indians lived in quasi-autarcy, and even today, long winters isolate the village. The overflow does not exist here. Every resource, every know-how, is essential to the life of the community. As with each of my visits, I ask the chaman of the village, Antonio, the father of Cesar, to allow me to photograph a ritual, the pago. Contrary to the Catholic rite, it is performed on request and is not subject to any calendar. This ritual is a long prayer, punctuated with offerings to the two deities who watch over the keros, the Pachamama, the mother earth, and the Apu, the spirits of the mountains. During long litanies, the chaman renews his faith and his respect for the entities, and asks for peace and prosperity for everyone. We settle at the foot of a sacred rock, one hour from the village. The ceremony begins with offerings. Now, I'm going to pour the wine here, and the pisco there, okay? It is with this that we will make the offerings. Here the Pachamama, and there the Apu. Maybe it will cause our death. Pour slowly. First the wine, in the left hand for the Pachamama, and the pisco in the right hand. Do you understand? So in the right hand are the Apu, the guardian deities, and in the left hand is the Pachamama. That's it, it's ready. Now we are good. We are going to invite you, you who are a traveler, and introduce you to the Apu. Now go ask the Pachamama what you want. That's it, it's ready. Go give this to the Apu. Holy land Pachamama, holy mother of the lakes, the idea of ​​the best way for all living beings. Bring us good fortune and wealth. You, the Pachamama, which is present in the whole world, feed the great and the small. Bring their wealth, gold and abundance. Distribute your blessings, increase them. Mother earth, mother lake, grant us your graces. Give us good fortune and wealth. Then come the prayers, during which Antonio has a multitude of sweets, coca leaves, seeds, which assure him that his requests are granted. I brought this candle so that all the homes are lit, that there is no lack of light in any people. I ask for all. Okay? Thank you. The night will soon fall on the massif. We return to the village because here, winter as summer, the temperatures drop as the sun disappears behind the mountains and passes below zero. Tomorrow, Cesar and his companions will go for the pilgrimage of Coyoriti. For the occasion, an alpaca will be sacrificed. Often confused with the lama, it is one of the only animals to be able to live at this altitude. For us, the alpaca is important. The wool from the tent allows us to weave our ponchos, blankets, gloves, hats, socks. We keep a part of it and sell the rest. This provides us with some income. The wool keeps us warm when we sleep. We also sleep on it because we don't have a mattress. For all these reasons, the alpaca is really important. For a family, an alpaca of this size provides three weeks of meat. The sun and the dry air allow to dry the meat and keep it at low temperatures. No furniture occupies the interior of the houses. No chairs, no mattresses, no tables, no chimneys either. As I enter, I feel like I'm doing a good deed in time. How beautiful! Very good! It's a bit difficult, isn't it? I'm not sure I'll like it. I'm going to make an effort, but I can't help it. I think I'm going to cheat a bit. I'm going to make it disappear skillfully. What's your name? Thank you. Very good. Excellent! It reminds me of what my grandparents did after they killed the pig. They spoke in a low voice, as if it were a chapel. Excellent! What I've noticed is that you live from 2,000 meters above sea level to 5,000 meters above sea level. Is that your difference? We grow our corn down in the valley. That's incredible! It's an eight-hour walk from here. So, in the forest there's corn, then in the main villages there are potatoes, and then there are alpacas. And potatoes too? I have forest plots, steppes at an altitude, to live with the alpacas and grow potatoes. We have apus and pachamama, the joy of our celebrations, our entertainment. You can't do that in the cities where you need a lot of land. All of that is a source of pride for us. You can't do that in the cities. There's no land. All of that is a source of pride for us. Some of the meat will be used by my companions as a meal for the Coyuriti. It's ready to go. The day of departure has arrived. I leave the village with my companions towards the Sinacara Alps, at an altitude of 4,700 metres, where the Coyuriti takes place. It's the beginning of the pilgrimage, so they're happy. And you, Stelis, are you happy? Yes, very happy. We've been waiting for this moment all year. It's the arrival! As I get closer, like a rollercoaster, I hear a hypnotic music. At the arrival, a dainty vision is offered to me, the pilgrimage of the Coyuriti. For three days, day and night, dozens of brothers and thousands of pilgrims will gather and commune in a festive fervour and good children. Farmers of the plains, Indians of the forests, of the mountains, all the Indian nation is represented. During this mystical procession, the Indians will reconcile the divine favours, whether they come from the Christian sky, the Pachamama or the Apu. It's around a legend that the pilgrimage is born. In 1870, Spanish religious people heard strange phenomena on this pilgrimage. As if by miracle, herds of animals were growing, without any explanation. Decided to clarify this mystery, they went there. After investigation, they came to the conclusion that these events were triggered by the miraculous gift of a young child. While they were trying to capture him, the boy, crushed against a stone, disappeared in a brilliant light, leaving, like Christ on his lap, the imprint of his body on the rock. Thus, the legend of the Lord of Coyuriti was born. A church was built around this stone. I am always surprised by the incredible syncretism that reigns here. For example, in this church, we attend a mass that is a little more Catholic. And just behind, we have all the attributes of the Andean religion. So there is really a mixture of genres here that is incredible. I am always surprised by the Holy Spirit. Peru was converted to Catholicism while being colonized by the Spanish conquistadors, who came with missionary priests on their first expeditions. A forced evangelization that saw the destruction of many Andean temples and the persecution of shamans. Today, Catholicism has become a state religion. But pilgrimage is also, for pilgrims, an opportunity to make material demands. To do this, César first takes me to the shopping streets of Improvisé, which border the festival. Maquettes of houses, cars, icons and grills overflow from the stalls. Do you have cars? I don't see anything I like. What is this? These are amulets that bring luck. Amulets? Are there things that interest you, César? Yes, this. It's a package with everything I'm looking for. How much does it cost? 10 soles. There's everything I want. Dollars, cars. I'll give you luck. Your name and first name? César Antonio. Lord of Coelho, Riti, and Virgin of Copacabana, Lord of the Huanca, César Antonio came to your sanctuary to see you and greet you with all his goodwill. Holy Virgin, cover him with a mantle, guide him, protect him from all evil. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen. May all your wishes and desires come true. Now cool your hands so that they remain good. Everything you desire will be granted to you. Come on, get on with it now. These objects are the representation of the wishes of the buyers. By the grace of prayers and incantations, they hope that their wishes will come true and that reduced models will become real goods. What do you need? A house. How many floors? A house with one, two, three, five floors. How many square meters? Two thousand. Here is the title of the property, the license, and this is for private property. Is this the title of the property? Yes, this is the title of the property. Can you explain to me what you did? I bought a house in Cusco. This is the patio? This is the patio. And the truck? Yes, and the truck. I have all the documents, the title of the property, the papers of the car, the license. I do all this ceremonial to have all these goods next year and that Les Apus and the Lord of Coyguriti accept my request. If it is not next year, it will be the year after. We must keep hope. I look forward to my dreams coming true in the future. I leave Cesar hoping to see him again soon in a big house with a big garden in front of which a beautiful truck will be parked. For him, it's time to find his village. I watch him leave hoping his dreams will come true. This night marks the end of Coyguriti. In a few hours, all traces will have disappeared and the mountains will find their tranquility. To have an overall view, I climb to 5,200 meters. The night still envelops the glacier. The temperature thickens the limbs. Only the most fervent pilgrims venture here. As to protect themselves from the cold, prayers double in intensity and devotion reaches its paroxysm even if the features of the faces are hollowed out by fatigue. No one sleeps during Coyguriti. As the first light of dawn illuminates the mountain, one last prayer rises to Christ, to the Apu, to the Pachamama, I don't know anymore. We ask our Father to be able to live together as one nation, as the fingers of one hand. Now we depend on him to make us walk, my brothers. Let us kneel. Lord Coyguriti, since Paokartambo, guide your sons on the path of progress. Now we enter the procession of the 24 hours. In the cold we must gather as the first nation of Paokartambo. Look at us, Lord. In the same way that we arrived, help us to enter our homes. We go home where our families are waiting for us. All your sons remain in tears. Amen. Then the sound of a horn of mist marks the way down. The pilgrims throw their last strength into this ultimate procession to the point that the earth seems to tremble under their steps as if the Pachamama itself was dancing. I have been photographing for 25 years. I have often noticed the slow cultural erosion of the peoples. But here, grizzled by the altitude and fatigue, photographing these human serpents that devour the mountain, I tell myself that the Kairos culture is not ready to die out.