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Geremia Cometti, A Cosmopolitical Ethnography of a Changing Climate among the Q’ero of the Peruvian Andes in:

Anthropos, page 37 - 52

Anthropos, Volume 115 (2020), Issue 1, ISSN: 0257-9774, ISSN online: 0257-9774, https://doi.org/10.5771/0257-9774-2020-1-37

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ANTHROPOS 113.2018: 395 – 422 Abstract. – The once more-or-less exclusively pastoral Todas of the Nilgiri Mountains in South India still retain vibrant beliefs in gods and goddesses they say once lived among them but thereafter became mountains; they tell also of ancestors who were once living Todas but subsequently became divinities. Beyond such indigenous convictions, Todas have absorbed a plethora of Hindu beliefs and ritual practices. Christian ideology has been propagated among Todas, with foreign-led Christian missionaries succeeded in establishing a breakaway Toda Christian community. But notwithstanding the many divergent sources of Toda religious ideology, the predominant and most public display of Toda ritual activity (apart from among Christian Todas) still centres on their unique sacred dairying cult, despite the rapid decline in the importance of buffaloes in the community’s modern-day economic life. This, together with their exclusively Toda deities and culture heroes seems to suggest a unique ethnic religion, frequently categorized as “non-Hindu.” But demonstrably Indic (therefore, if only loosely, “Hindu”) principles permeate Toda ritual activity. Most notable are the concepts of hierarchy and purity and those of prescribed ritual avoidance coupled with required ritual cooperation. In sum, Toda religion – like the Toda community itself – is at once unique and, at the same time, thoroughly Indic. [South India, Nilgiri Mountains, Toda] Anthony Walker, an Oxford-trained social anthropologist, retired as Professor of Anthropology at the University of Brunei Darussalam in 2011 and now lives in Kandy, Sri Lanka. His peripatetic career has included teaching positions at the Science University of Malaysia in Penang, the National University of Singapore, The Ohio State University, and the University of the South Pacific in Suva, Fiji. – He began his, still-ongoing, field studies with the Todas in 1962 and has also conducted long-term field research (since 1966) on the Tibeto-Burman speaking Lahu peoples of the Yunnan-Indochina borderlands. – For his major publications on the Todas see References Cited. The Todas believe in their Goddess Thekershi (Tö·kisy1). They worship Goddess Thekershi for protection during their eternal (perhaps “mortal” was intended) existence and they also worship God Ayan (Ö·n) to protect them after death. The Todas do not observe idol worship. Todas worship light, fire, mountains, trees, rivers, sky, sun, and moon, which are believed to be the major creations of their Goddess Thekershi.2 1 Introduction In his recent book “Religion. An Anthropological Perspective” (2015: 9), Professor Homayun Sidky, my much esteemed former PhD student at The Ohio State University, claims: “no single definition has been able to capture the entire picture” of the religious phenomenon. “For this reason”, Sidky writes, “some argue that religion is best thought of as a multifaceted phenomenon with many interpenetrating dimensions as opposed to being viewed as a unitary occurrence.” This indeed is my interpretation of religion as understood and practised by the once more-or-less exclusively pastoral Toda community 1 The orthography of Toda in this essay follows that of Murray Emeneau (1957: 19; 1984: 5–49), except that I have added hyphenation where I feel this might assist non-specialists with pronunciation, hence my To·r-θas and Töw-fił̣y, where Emeneau has To·rθas and Töwfił̣y. (Note, however, that I do not add hyphenation to Toda words when quoting directly – as I do frequently – from Emeneau’s various works. Further assistance with the pronunciation of Toda words rendered in Emeneau’s transcription can be had from Tarun Chhabra’s “A Guide for the Transliteration of Toda” in his 2015 book “The Toda Landscape,” pp. xxxvii–xliii. 2 From the pen of Pöḷ-xe·n, son of Mut-iŝky – his name anglicized as Pellican (n. d.) – a member of Ka·s patriclan, first president of the Nilgiri Toda Uplift Society, high school graduate and literate both in Tamil and English. The Diverse Faces of Toda Religion Anthony R. Walker ANTHROPOS 115.2020: 37–52 A Cosmopolitical Ethnography of a Ch ngin Climate among the Q’ero of the Peruvian Andes Geremia Cometti Abstract. – The Q’ero of the Peruvian Andes are suffering rapid changes in their environment due to climate change. This article puts forward the necessity of a cosmopolitical ethnogra‐ phy in order to understand how a specific society deals with climate change. On the one hand, a subtle ethnography can in‐ deed enable the researcher to transcribe the point of view of the societies directly concerned, making it possible to go beyond an approach based on the dichotomies emanating from state policies and development enterprises, like those between na‐ ture and culture or tradition and modernity. On the other hand, a cosmopolitical approach will shed new light on the way in which those societies confront this double threat by revealing the cohabitation of multiple worlds. [Peru, Andean mountains, cosmopolitical ethnography, climate change, reciprocal rela‐ tionship] Geremia Cometti, PhD in Anthropology and Sociology of De‐ velopmen (Graduat Institute in Geneva), Director of the Insti‐ t te of Ethnol gy at he U iversity of Strasburg (France). – Pri‐ or to that he was a Swiss National Science Foundat on (SNSF) post-doctoral fellow at the Laboratoire d’Anthropologie So‐ ciale (Paris) and SNSF-fellow within UCL Anthropology De‐ partment (London). – He has done fieldwork with the Q’eros of the Peruvian Andes, explorin how no -Western societies make sense of climate change. – His most rece t publications include: “Changement climatique et crise d s relations de réciprocité d n les Andes péruviennes. Les Q’eros et l’An‐ th opocène” (in: R. Beau Rémi et C. Larrère [dir.], Comment penser l’Anthropocène. Paris 2018: 235–247); "‘Lorsque le brouillard a cessé de nous écouter’. Changement climatique et migrations hez les Q’eros des Andes éruviennes” (Bern 2015); "Non humai , trop non hum i ?" In: Gere i Cometti, Pierre Le Roux, Tiziana Manicon , Nastassja Martin (eds.), Au seuil de la forêt. Hommage a Philippe Descola, l'anthropologue de la nature (2019) and "El Antropoceno puesto a prueba en el campo: cambio climático y crisis de las relaciones de reciproci‐ dad entre los q'ero d los Andes peruanos" (2020). Email: cometti@unistra.fr Introduction Concerning the so-called “climate change,” the narratives put forward by the Andean communi‐ ties clearly differ from those of International Orga‐ nizations (IOs), Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) as well as those of the Peruvian State. Al‐ though indigenous knowledge is increasingly recognized as complementary to so-called scientif‐ ic knowledge, it often remains reduced to mere cultural beliefs (Stensrud 2016). The Peruvian State, the IOs, and the NGOs often reproduce the dominant discourse on climate change lead by nat‐ ural scientists. This discourse finds its origin in a certain way of identifying with non-humans spe‐ cific to the West, which mainly rests on the di‐ chotomy between nature and culture (Descola 2013). However, this dichotomy leads to certain difficulties when used as a heuristic and universal tool to analyze the way in which indigenous soci‐ eties deal with climate change. Indeed, societies like those of the Andes consider that divinities, plants, animals, and atmospheric phenomena share – in whole or in part – faculties and behaviors with human beings. Since non-human beings are here considered as part of the social world, we can strait away see that, for such societies, climate chang cannot correspond to the same definition as the one l ad by Western scientific disc urse. Anthropos 115.2020 In this article, I propose to describe and analyze the way in which the Q’ero,1 a Quechua-speaking community of the Peruvian Andes, conceive and react to the threat of climate change by consider‐ ing the way that they relate to several non-human entities, understood here as social actors endowed with intentionality and agency. In the existing lit‐ erature on the Andes there are several ethnograph‐ ic works that address such an issue, however, most of the researchers have had the tendency of under‐ standing such relationships by means of an episte‐ mological approach, arguing that Andean commu‐ nities conceive the world in a different way be‐ cause of their individual, cosmological, and reli‐ gious beliefs (Salas Carreño 2012). On the con‐ trary, I will here analyze the way in which the Q’ero interact with non-human entities and, thus, the manner in which they deal with atmospheric and climatic changes through the prism of ontolo‐ gy. In other words, I argue that the way in which the Q’ero conceive climate change is more than simply cultural belief. This article is particularly inspired by the notion of controlled equivocation proposed by Eduardo Viveiros de Castro (2004). Such a notion has the power to avoid or prevent the misunderstanding that often emerges when one is dealing with two different worlds and not with two perspectives of the same world. Mario Blaser (2013) rightly points out that this kind of misunderstanding is in‐ deed ontological and not epistemological, since we are confronted with conflicts between several distinct realities, or several worlds, and not within a single, universal, and objective reality. These on‐ tological conflicts are at the heart of what Isabelle Stengers (1997) calls cosmopolitics, a space of un‐ certainty in which multiple and divergent worlds meet and coexist. Nevertheless, the main objective of this article is not to explore the possibility whether divergent worlds can relate with each oth‐ er in order to construct a common world in the terms of Isabelle Stengers (2005) and Bruno La‐ tour (2004), but rather to show the need of ethnog‐ raphy in order to analyze the way in which indige‐ nous groups like the Q’ero adapt to these different worlds as well as the way these worlds potentially intersect with the rapid climatic changes in the re‐ gion. For this reason, I offer to name this “cos‐ mopolitical ethnography.” It is indeed a cosmopo‐ 1 This article is based on ethnographic materials gathered du‐ ring more than 18 months of fieldwork carried out during se‐ veral stays between 2011 and 2017 in the Cuzco region. The methodology is mainly based on participant observation in‐ terviews among the Q’ero. litical approach based on a subtle ethnography that reveals the importance of the inclusion of non-hu‐ man beings in the analysis, but also in the field of politics, a politics not only composed of power re‐ lations but rather a politics “made up of relation‐ ships between worlds” (Rancière 1999: 42). The Romantic Myth of the Last Inca Community– The Q’ero The Q’ero became quite popular in Peru, in 1955, when a small group of researchers from the Uni‐ versidad Nacional San Antonio Abad del Cuzco (UNSAAC) organized a scientific expedition to the heartland of their territory. The head and orga‐ nizer of this study, anthropologist Oscar Nuñez del Prado Castro, set out to meet this community that was said to live in almost complete autarchy, hid‐ den somewhere in the Andes. However, the group soon realized that the isolation of the Q’ero was mainly geographical, as they were subject to a brutal system of haciendas (a latifundia system). Yabar Palacio, the owner of the hacienda, had put in place a servile system that subsisted in Peru un‐ til the agrarian reform (1968–1975). The scientific interest of the group thus rapidly transformed into political support for the Q’ero. On his return, Os‐ car Nuñez del Prado C. took the responsibility of helping the Q’ero in their struggle to leave the sys‐ tem of the hacienda (Flores Ochoa 2005: 34). Thanks to the support of the Peruvian newspaper La Prensa, the expedition received national atten‐ tion. The titles of the editorials at that time were quite eloquent: “A living museum of the Inca em‐ pire is being studied by Peruvian scientists,” “Q’ero, an admirable community, living witness of pre-Inca Peru,” “The incredible excesses of a feu‐ dal lord are exterminating the Q’eros” (Le Borgne 2003: 144; Wissler 2010: 108). The support of the media confronting the politi‐ cal oppositions and the campaign led by Nuñez del Prado C. was a success, the Q’ero obtaining the titles of communal property in 1964 (Müller y Müller 1984: 162). Yann Le Borgne (2003: 144 f.) argues that the medias and the commitment of the members of the expedition contributed to making the Q’ero an eponymous symbol of indigenous au‐ thenticity. Le Borgne (2003: 144 f.) furthermore criticizes the editorial choice made in 1983 by Jorge A. Flores Ochoa, Juan V. Nuñez del Prado B., and Manuel Castillo Farfán, naming the first edition of the main book dedicated to the Andean community “Q’ero, el ultimo ayllu inka.” Accord‐ ing to Le Borgne, the book, that assembles the 38 Geremia Cometti Anthropos 115.2020 main articles written about the Q’ero, mainly mir‐ rors the political worries of the authors. In addi‐ tion, Salas Carreño (2007: 108) emphasizes that such a narrative, clearly political, has its roots in the indigenous movement of the first half of the 20th century and, thus, has not given up the ro‐ mantic vision that describes the Q’ero as the ulti‐ mate guardians of the Inca past. Such a romantic conception was reinforced by the release of a version of the myth of Inkarri,2 collected among the Q’ero by one of the members of the expedition, Morote Best. The spread of the myth sparked a debate about Andean ethnology and contributed to foster a new conception of the history of Andean societies (Flores Ochoa 2005: 33). The myth became very famous after the pub‐ lication of several versions collected in the 1950 s by the well-known writer José María Arguedas (Urton 2004: 123). Indeed, following the work of the Cusco writer, many researchers devoted them‐ selves to collecting and analyzing the myth of Inkarri whilst keeping in mind the probable stakes hidden behind the issue, these being linked to po‐ litics as well as identity (Getzels 2005: 312). Gary Urton (2004: 122 f.) states, that the main charac‐ teristic of the myth is the name Inkarri itself, based on the combination of the terms “Inca” and “rey” (King). According to the author, the mil‐ lenarian component predicts a future time in which the Andean world will live through another cataclysm that will destroy the world dominated by the Spaniards, before witnessing the restoration of the Inca as supreme monarch. These millenari‐ an traits are perfectly in accordance with the An‐ dean concept of pachakuti, a space-time revolu‐ tion or reversal. The Fourth Ecological Level: the City The Q’ero territory is situated on the oriental slope of the Cordillera Vilcanota, at a distance of about 100 km from the city of Cuzco. The Q’ero popula‐ tion amounts to 2,200 people split into five trans‐ humant communities: Hatun Q’ero, Q’ero To‐ torani, Marcachea, Quico, and Japu. The first three communities are very similar in terms of physical 2 According to Getzels (2005: 312–314), the different versi‐ ons of the myth describe Inkarri in three ways: 1) as a cultu‐ ral hero and a creative divinity; 2) as a brave warrior who transforms Andean society by creating order and chaos all at once; and 3) as a pagan messiah who will one day reappear to save his “Andean sons” from Spanish oppression. Accor‐ ding to the author, we generally find the three categories in the myths collected in the Q’ero region. and architectural characteristics. With the excep‐ tion of the three villages of Hatun Q’ero (Choa Choa, Challmacimpana, and Ccochamoqo) there is no any road access. In the houses, made essential‐ ly of stone and straw, there is no electricity. The two last communities, Japu and Quico, on the con‐ trary, have experienced a big physical transforma‐ tion following the arrival of the adepts of the Maranata (evangelic) Church in Japu and of a catholic priest of Danish origin in Quico.3 AYACUCHO JUNIN MADRE DE DIOS PUNO AREQUIPA APURIMAC 0 100 km Cuzco Ausangate (6384 m) PAUCARTAMBO QUISPICANCHI Nación Q’ero Cuzco PERU ECUADOR COLOMBIA BRAZIL CHILE B O L I V I A Map: The Cuzco region and the Q’ero territory The Q’ero generally live on three different “eco‐ logical levels.”4 The highest level, the puna, ranges between 3,800 and 4,600 meters in altitude. It is at this level, where the alpacas and llamas are bred (see Fig. 1 below). At the qheswa, the inter‐ mediary level, ranging between 3,200 and 3,800 metres, the Q’ero cultivate different types of tu‐ bers. Lastly, between 1,400 and 2,400 is the yun‐ 3 There are also some Q’ero who converted to Maranata Church and who live in other communities, except the one of Q’ero Totorani. 4 One exception is the community of Marcachea, which only has two ecological levels: puna and qheswa. A Cosmopolitical Ethnography of a Changing Climate among the Q’ero of the Peruvian Andes 39 Anthropos 115.2020 ga, a wooded zone where maize is cultivated.5 As early as the 1990 s, the Q’ero started leaving the five communities at an accelerated rhythm. Ac‐ cording to them, the main reason that pushed and that continues to push them to migrate was and is the education of their children. In any case, having left the five communities, the Q’ero started selling their textiles and practicing shamanic ceremonies for the inhabitants of the city of Cuzco and its tourists, thus exploiting their romantic reputation of being the last Inca community still alive as well as being considered to have the most powerful shamans of the Peruvian Andes. For instance, dur‐ ing the month of August, the apu (tutelary spirits of the mountains) and the Pachamama (Mother Earth) are particularly active and the Q’ero’s paqu (shamans) gradually found themselves every month of August in the streets of Cuzco, the for‐ mer capital of the Inca Empire, in order to answer the increasing demands for pagos a la tierra (cere‐ monies for the earth). During the following years, this migration constantly increased. For this rea‐ son, today it has become possible to speak of a new ecological level: the city. But the increase of mobility, however, can be explained, in part, by the impact of climate change over the last three decades. Thus, I suggest exploring, in the follow‐ 5 However, due to the poor harvests of recent years and the fact that the heavy rain has ruined the path leading to the places where maize is cultivated, most of them now gave up cultivating this type of crop. ing paragraph, the way in which the Q’ero per‐ ceive those atmospheric and climatic changes as well as the manner by which they explain them in their own words. The Q’ero Perception of Climate Change Strauss and Orlove (2003: 8–11) distinguish three major types of time intervals in which human per‐ ceptions vary in response to the variations of weather and climate. The first interval is the short‐ est one and is termed by the authors as “days.” Days are temporal units that people often use to discuss meteorological events that have just oc‐ curred. This interval is what meteorologists call weather. The second temporal unit is termed “years” and corresponds to what scientists call cli‐ mate. The third and last temporal unit is termed “generations” and corresponds to what climate scientists call climatic variability or climate change. It refers to the change in rainfall and other atmospheric phenomena on a longer time scale. During my fieldwork, I did not make a clear methodological distinction between these three in‐ tervals. However, the responses of the Q’ero large‐ ly reflect these temporal units. Here I will partially abandon the first unit to mainly focus on the sec‐ ond one, the “years,” as well as on the third one, the “generations.” But before analyzing the way the Q’ero per‐ ceive this climate change today, it is important to Fig. 1: Irwaconca, a community of Hatun Q’ero (photo G. C.) 40 Geremia Cometti Anthropos 115.2020 underline the fact that we are talking about com‐ munities that are already used to face difficult cli‐ matic condition, as was reported by Yabar Palacio, the owner of the hacienda where the Q’ero were living. In an article written in 1922, Yabar Palacio described the weather in Hatun Q’ero as “very cold, with a strong wind that brings a sea of very dense fog”. According to him “hail, snow, rain, fog and wind during the day are strong enough to mortify the visitors.” In addition to this important ethnographic ac‐ count, the anthropologist Oscar Nuñez del Prado C. (2005: 79 f.) wrote after the 1955 expedition that, according to Q’ero information, the rain nev‐ er stops falling all year round. The dry season is only named as such because it rains less (in quan‐ tity and frequency) in comparison to what is called the rainy season. This information, gathered 60 years ago, shows that there had been rainfalls throughout the whole year with a change in inten‐ sity and frequency between the dry season and the rainy season. As we are going to see, when com‐ pared with the information collected by Nuñez del Prado C. back in 1955, the Q’ero accounts that I gathered clearly show that a change has occurred. As a matter of fact, atmospheric and climatic changes, especially changes in the rainfall pat‐ terns, significantly impact the agricultural produc‐ tion of the Q’ero and endanger the health and exis‐ tence of their livestock.6 The unanimous view of the Q’ero farmers I spoke with is that nowadays it rains a lot during the rainy season, but barely rains during the dry season, as mentioned by Sebastiana and Juana7: It was not like that before, it was not raining so much, now it rains too much and sometimes it is too sunny; nowhere is it good to live (Sebastiana A., Q’ero To‐ torani, August 2011). Before the rain was not like this. When it was raining, it was nice, but now it is too much and there are strong winds. Sometimes it does not rain at all; it’s not easy to live well now, until the frost is strong, before it was to‐ tally different and better (Juana A., Hatun Q’ero, July 2011). The second most important phenomenon men‐ tioned by Juana and other Q’ero after the change in rainfall patterns concerns frost, which is nor‐ mally expected to appear during the nights of the 6 As expected, when talking to the Q’ero, I did not use the ex‐ pression “climate change,” but referred to changes in rain‐ falls, melting glaciers, etc. 7 I personally gathered and translated all the excerpts present in this article, both in Quechua and Spanish. dry season. During such nights, the clouds are usually scarce. But the general impression of the Q’ero is that frost is becoming persistent, and, as a consequence, the ground more often frozen. Fur‐ thermore, other phenomena are mentioned less frequently, such as melting glaciers, hail, fog, and a change in temperatures. In others words, through so-called traditional knowledge and constant em‐ pirical observation, the Q’ero are able to recognize what the scientific discourse defines as the “cli‐ mate change” taking place in the Andean moun‐ tains (in particular, see Coudrain et al. 2005; Thompson 2000; Vuille et al. 2008). Because of these phenomena, notably the change in rainfall patterns, the Q’ero are unani‐ mously saying that the production and productivi‐ ty of different types of potatoes and corn have drastically diminished. Moreover, the quality of the tubers themselves is also said to have declined. According to them, the change in rainfall patterns is responsible for the propagation of the rancha8, a disease that has been spreading through Q’ero ter‐ ritory, destroying a good part of the potato produc‐ tion. As said earlier, the variations of atmospheric precipitation also have a strong impact on live‐ stock. During the rainy season, strong and con‐ stant rainfall can be fatal to alpacas and llamas, as it coincides with the birthing season during which the young are particularly vulnerable. In contrast, pasturelands dry out quickly during the dry sea‐ son, diminishing the quantity of food available for the grazing animals. Around August and Septem‐ ber, alpacas and llamas are often underweight and malnourished, leading some to die of starvation. Below is the account of Luis of the Hatun Q’ero community: When I was little the weather was not like that, it was not raining like now. There was not so much rain. Be‐ cause of that the animals are dying and the production of potatoes is affected by the rancha. The frost is too much and there is not enough grass as before. Nothing is the same (Luis Q., June 2011). The winter solstice plays a leading role in the per‐ ception of atmospheric phenomena: the obser‐ vation of the Pleiades (qutu) is used by the Q’ero to anticipate seasonal variations. The Q’ero like other Andean populations study luminosity, tem‐ porality, and size of the Pleiades in order to decide when they have to seed the different kinds of tu‐ bers. These assessments, therefore, appear to be 8 The rancha is a potato disease scientifically known by the name Phytophthora infestans, and more colloquially as “po‐ tato blight.” A Cosmopolitical Ethnography of a Changing Climate among the Q’ero of the Peruvian Andes 41 Anthropos 115.2020 crucial to their agricultural activities. In the com‐ munity of Hatun Q’ero, the arariwa (a kind of me‐ teorologist) has the privilege of assuming the role of observing “the signs of the night.” It is an annu‐ al and rotating function held every year by a mem‐ ber of the Hatun Q’ero community and appointed by that same community, the other communities having ceased such a practice. The task of this of‐ ficial meteorologist is to observe the signs of fu‐ ture atmospheric variations such as rain or snow and to counter them by observing the Pleiades as well as by the means of what the Q’ero call ca‐ banilla, a system of meteorological projections.9 In the cabanilla, every month corresponds to a day (or two) of August. Thus, the 1st (and sometimes also the 13th) of August corresponds to Septem‐ ber, the 2nd to October, and so on. According to the quantity of rain on these days, the arariwa can predict the quantity of rain that is going to fall during the entire corresponding month. In others words, if it rains a lot on the 5th of August, it means it is going to rain a lot during January. However, the arariwa is not simply a meteorolo‐ gist. He also must provoke rain or frost when nec‐ essary by means of certain specific offerings made to the apu and to the Pachamama. The arariwa, thus, appears like a connector between the com‐ munity of Hatun Q’ero and these divinities – and by extension, the atmospheric phenomena – and in that way is necessary in order to satisfy the agri‐ cultural and pastoral needs of his community. Poor harvests are interpreted as consequence of his fail‐ ure to assume his role of intercessor. At a time of climate change, the function is becoming increas‐ ingly difficult to assume. The Q’ero Interpretation of Climate Change The interpretations of these weather and climatic changes that I was able to collect among the Q’ero are heterogeneous. They could, however, be sepa‐ rated into three non-exclusive categories of expla‐ nation, for it remains possible for the same person to put forward more than one of these types of ex‐ planation. The first group is composed of people that have integrated “scientific” terms in order to explain the change. In 2011, only a few people used the expression capa de ozono (ozone hole) and cambio climático (climate change). For in‐ stance, Thomas from Japu said: 9 This traditional meteorological system called cabañuela also existed in Spain before the Conquest. It is hot because there is climate change ... there is the ozone hole ... and it’s polluted ... that is why some days there is a lot of heat ... It’s changing because of the pol‐ lution of the ozone hole ... the glaciers are also disap‐ pearing with the heat and the ozone hole ... (Thomas S., May 2011). As mentioned by Thomas the Q’ero often used the term contaminación (pollution), mainly because of fire and plastic bags left on the ground, as men‐ tioned by Julio from Marcachea: There is too much smoke and because of that we suffer different kinds of illness. Many of us are burning trees and that influences a lot. What’s more there is a lot of junk, there is a lot of plastic bags and soda bottles thrown all over (Julio P., August, 2011). In these two excerpts, we can clearly notice that Thomas and Julio are reproducing part of the ex‐ planation of the phenomena heard by statements outside the Q’ero community or directly in the Q’ero community by some external actors. In Thomas’s account, there is some confusion about “climate change” and the “ozone hole.” If today the expression “climate change” is more often used by the Q’ero, it can probably be explained, on the one hand, by the increasing mobility of the Q’ero and, on the other hand, by the increasing presence of external actors, such as NGOs, the re‐ gional state, and even by the presence of tourists on their lands. The same happened with a teacher I met 2011 in Hatun Q’ero who, during a conversa‐ tion with me, used the terms climate change and pollution several times. In Julio’s account, we also come to notice the partial reproduction of typically external explanations concerning the issue. I have witnessed some NGOs and the regional state con‐ veying a double discourse insisting, on one side, that the Q’ero have to use cocinas mejoradas (im‐ proved kitchens) that avoid certain illnesses by preventing smoke from staying inside the houses and otherwise asking them to stop burning trees and other plants because of nature conservation. The same arguments are valid in a similar way re‐ garding the junk being thrown all over their pas‐ tures. But even though the use of these external terms is increasing, the Q’ero, influenced by exter‐ nal actors, are reproducing these terms, however, without having a deep knowledge of the scientific explanations. Of course, this trend could quickly change, and some among them certainly already understand the scientific discourse on climate change quite well. Yet, even though the Q’ero are suffering the consequences of climate change, we 42 Geremia Cometti Anthropos 115.2020 cannot assume that they are reproducing the scien‐ tific discourse about this phenomenon. The second group is composed of people who explain these climatic changes as a sign of the end of the cyclical time. A few Q’ero refer to the melt‐ ing of the glaciers as a sign of the end of a tempo‐ ral cycle. As a matter of fact, the Andean concep‐ tion of time is cyclical and not linear as in the West, and we have already seen that the concept that illustrates the cyclical change of time and space is named pachacuti. For instance, below is the case of Humberto from Hatun Q’ero who speaks about a possible comeback of the Inca: Even the Incas have all been killed, but their living spir‐ its have not died and they will return. Now the time left is short. That’s why the ice of our mountains is melting. That’s what our Apu tayta10 wants and what our Inka would say? Pachacutec will heal, he will not die. In this account as well as in a few others, the name of Inka Pachacutec is mentioned. On this topic, Getzels (2005: 312–316) argues that the Q’ero also think that Inkarri will return when the snow of the Ausangate and the Wamanlipa (the two most important apu for the Q’ero) has disap‐ peared. But the problem with this type of narrative is linked to the fact that the evangelical churches have taken advantage of the concept of pachakuti to help build their apocalyptical theories. During the 1990 s, several preachers came to the Q’ero to talk about the end of world. Gilles Rivière (2007: 2) shows a similar situation in the Aymara soci‐ eties of the Bolivian Altiplano. Rivière describes the arrival of a large number of Pentecostal groups during the last decades that transformed the Boli‐ vian religious scenario. In Aymara communities, as in Quechua communities, the end of a cycle and the beginning of a new one has many similarities with the model of the Pentecostal eschatology, which gives great importance to millenarianism and messianic expectation. Pentecostal priests, says Rivière, constantly comment on the Bible verses that mention the signs of the end of the world; signs that every farmer can observe on a daily basis, such as earthquakes, bad harvests, etc. When I was in the community of Marcachea, some colorful plastic on the top of the straw roofs drew my attention. Hence, I asked Nicolas, a Q’ero from the community of Marcachea, about the meaning of those bits of plastics: In Marcachea we put the plastic pieces on top of the houses as adornment. Several priests came to Marcachea 10 Apu tayta means Father Apu or/and the most important apu, Apu Ausangate. before the year 2000 saying that the world was going to end. They come in with this discourse telling us: Why do you study? Why do you have animals? Why do you work if the world will end? We were forced to put a cross on top of the houses in order to protect ourselves. But the world did not end … and after a while we have begun to cover the crosses with these plastic bags (Nico‐ las P., August, 2011). The third and last group is by far the most numer‐ ous. Although this group is quite heterogeneous, the interpretations have a common denominator. In a somewhat reductive manner, one could sum it up as “degradations of the relations between the Q’ero and their non-human entities,” in particular, their divinities, the apu and the Pachamama. The following excerpts from two interviews illustrate this kind of interpretation: It’s our fault. We have made the apu and the Pachamama angry. Before it was not like this. We respected all our relationships with the apus and the Pachamama and with the sun, the stars, the lagoons, etc. have always been very close. Well it’s exactly as he says … we have lost our powers. I think we are not going to recover our rela‐ tionship with the apus. We have made them too angry … What are we going to do? (Martin Q., Hatun Q’ero, July 2011). Our ancestors held many ceremonies for the apus and Pachamama. Our grandparents were wiser. They were sure of themselves, but above all, they were one person. At that time, all the paqu congregated and organised great ceremonies for the entire community in order to have something to eat and allow everybody to live well. There were different collective ceremonies, like the llaq‐ ta hampiy (taking care of the village), papa hampiy (tak‐ ing care of the potato), sara hampiy (taking care of the maize). Nowadays it’s every man for himself. Everyone only thinks about earning money. Our eyes are obsessed by money. It’s our own fault if we’ve lost our beliefs and that everyone thinks about himself. All the Q’eros you see in Cuzco, you’ve met a lot of Q’eros in Cuzco, haven’t you? Anyway, all these Q’eros that are “selling themselves” as if they were real paqu are liars (Basilio S., August 2011, Cuzco). These two abstracts reveal one of the most widespread ideas among the Q’ero: the newly abandonment of several ceremonies practiced by their ancestors has led to the current climatic vari‐ ations. As is evident from the two excerpts, in the previous decades a range of different ceremonies was practiced for the rain, for the animals, for the maize, for the potatoes, and so on. Today, accord‐ ing to the elders, the younger generations only “think about money,” and most Q’ero are no longer capable of carrying out effective A Cosmopolitical Ethnography of a Changing Climate among the Q’ero of the Peruvian Andes 43 Anthropos 115.2020 ceremonies. On the one hand, there are indeed some Q’ero, who are not interested in ceremonies and who move to Cuzco in search of employment, especially in the construction sector, whereas, on the other hand, some Q’ero practice shamanism as their professional activity. Additionally, on several occasions, the inhabi‐ tants of the five communities mentioned the pres‐ ence of evangelical churches, in particular the Maranata Church, that has led to the further ex‐ tinction of ceremonial rites. Nevertheless, the question is far more sensitive in Yanaruma, a sec‐ tor of Japu, which remains the only part of the community still resisting the infiltration of the evangelist faith: Some years ago, in the time of our grandparents, the weather was totally different. Our grandparents were very united and all helped each other to work, and most importantly, they respected the Pachamama and the apus. Now why has our climate changed? Because all kinds of religions like Maranata and other religions as well arrived here. We are losing our customs because of these different religions and I personally think that this is bad, it is not right. The glacier Mamarit’i is disappear‐ ing. In the past, our ancestors were used to carrying out very good ceremonies. They used all their faith and all their hearts. They knew when to sow the potatoes, whether to sow on a small plot or a large plot, they knew absolutely everything ... But now as time has changed we no longer live as before with our customs with the Pachamama. We no longer have security. (Marcelino W., Japu, June 2011). As this last account shows, some Q’ero put the blame on the converted Q’ero, even when the lat‐ ter have decided to start again performing the cer‐ emonies in honor of the apu and the Pachamama. In addition, according to other Q’ero, there are followers of the Maranata Church who secretly continue performing the ceremonies, and others who follow the new religion whilst remaining real “merchants,” organizing shamanic ceremonies for the Cuzco tourists. According to these last accounts, climate change is due to the abandoning of several ritual practices, owing to the fact that part of the popula‐ tion has become members of other religions that condemn practices such as the chewing of coca leaves or the conducting of ceremonies in honor of divinities. Apart from these converted Q’ero, a number of them takes advantage of their status as paqu with urban dwellers and tourists. By aban‐ doning several collective practices, or because of the fact that less and less people participate in their undertaking and that they are performed with less rigor, the Q’ero in a way have degraded their relationship with their divinities. Consequently, the rain falls ever more profusely during the rainy season, and, by contrast, does not fall enough dur‐ ing the dry season and, in turn, cultivating crops and breeding animals is becoming ever more diffi‐ cult in Q’ero territory. In order to better under‐ stand this kind of interpretation, it is now neces‐ sary to dive deeper into the relationships the Q’ero themselves maintain with non-human entities. A Reciprocal Mode of Relationship Nurit Bird-David (1990) has suggested the terms “giving environment” and “reciprocating environ‐ ment” to describe the way in which the Nayaga of South India conceive the forest, anticipated by them as being a parent that gives them food. For Bird-David, the values of “sharing” and of “gift” are typical of hunter-gatherer societies. In the wake of Bird-David, Tim Ingold (2011: 69 f.) ar‐ gues that what characterizes the “sharing” rela‐ tionships in these societies is a form of “trust” based on a particular combination of “autonomy” and “dependency”: If a society depends on the fa‐ vorable response of a particular divinity, that re‐ sponse is entirely based on the initiative of the lat‐ ter. In the literature concerning Andean communi‐ ties, the most frequent word used to describe the relationship between human beings is that of ayni, “reciprocity” (Alberti y Mayer 1974). According to Flores Ochoa (2006: 8), in the Andes, reciproci‐ ty is a concept fundamental in the development of personal, family, and communal relationships. But the concept of ayni is also used to describe the types of relationships that the Andean communi‐ ties maintain with their divinities. In this respect, Nathan Wachtel (1990: 193) points out that the system of reciprocity between human beings and divinities – similar to that between human beings – is based on a continuous exchange of gifts and counter-gifts in order to erase a debt that is indefi‐ nitely reconstituted. For this reason, the relations between human beings and divinities constantly oscillate between balance and imbalance, thus, the fact that the ideal state of harmony requires per‐ petually renewed rituals. David Gow (1976: 265) defines the relations that humans maintain with the apu and the Pachamama as asymmetrical re‐ ciprocal relations, emphasizing the dominant hier‐ archical position of the divinities. Following Ingold, Xavier Ricard Lanata (2007: 347 f.) argues that the shepherds that live on the 44 Geremia Cometti Anthropos 115.2020 slope of the Ausangate mountain maintain their re‐ lationship with their environment and divinities through a permanent fluctuation in-between de‐ pendency and autonomy. Thus, the shepherds are always seeking the stability that will guarantee their social reproduction and their security. In a similar way like these authors, I myself find it per‐ tinent to take up the notions of “dependency” and “autonomy” in order to better understand the rela‐ tionship between human and non-human entities within the Andes. Indeed, the tension that lies in the relationship between dependency and autono‐ my is analogous to the tension that exists in the gift relationship between obligation and freedom. It is, therefore, possible to consider that the Q’ero maintain a relationship of dependency and autono‐ my with respect to all the entities that populate their social universe. But what less often is men‐ tioned in the literature on reciprocity in the Andes is that, in several Andean communities, human be‐ ings not only maintain a reciprocal relationship with divinities but also with animals, plants, and objects, like the inqaychu, stones that are part of the paqu’s ceremonial gear and which allow him to increase his healing power. Of course, the Q’ero maintain ayni relationships with the apu and the Pachamama but also with alpacas, potatoes, and their ancestors. There is a reciprocal relationship between the Q’ero and all the other entities that in‐ habit their social world. An incident I experienced during one of my first stays with the Q’ero illus‐ trates this position. One day, Guillermo, a Q’ero of the Hatun Q’ero community, decided to prepare a potato soup. Together we started peeling and cut‐ ting the number of potatoes that was needed for the soup and, simultaneously, Guillermo boiled some other potatoes in water with a bit of salt. We then poured the unpeeled potatoes into the boiling water with their skins intact. Just as we were about to eat, I started to observe Guillermo eating his potatoes. He peeled the potatoes cooked in the wa‐ ter with his bare hands and let the peelings drop to the ground. Whilst he was busy fetching water to clean up the pans in a small river next to the house, I started picking up the potato peelings covering the floor. When I had succeeded in gath‐ ering all the potato skins in a pile, Guillermo ar‐ rived with his vessel filled with water, and, catch‐ ing sight of me with the potato peels in my hands, he glared at me and screamed: “What are you do‐ ing???” Quickly, he put his vessel on the ground, took the peels I had gathered into his own hands and started separating them carefully. When he had finished, he raised his head and asked: “Do you normally sleep with the dead?” I really was not prepared for such a question, so it took me a couple of seconds before I was able to simply an‐ swer: “No … I don’t think so …”. But Guillermo was quick to reply: “Then, if you say you don’t sleep with the dead, … why did you put the dead skins [those we had cooked in the pan] with those that were still alive [those of the raw potatoes that we had peeled before cooking them in the soup]?” “Indeed,” Guillermo continued, “the skins we have cooked have lost their spirit, whilst the others still have their animu.11 There are rules to follow, to cultivate and cook potatoes. There is an ayni re‐ lationship between the potatoes and us. We have to treat it the way it wants to be treated. If we don’t follow these rules, then we won’t be allowed to cultivate it anymore.” Without adding anything else, he created two distinct piles, one with the potato peels that still possessed their animu and the other with the peels that had lost their animu whilst cooking. He went out of the house and laid each pile far from each other on the grass. This episode portrays, on the one hand, the re‐ ciprocal relationship between the Q’ero and the potatoes and, on the other hand, the fact that the potatoes should be conceived as entities endowed with a spirit and with agency. Reciprocity and agency also permeate the relation between nonhumans, as shown in the following excerpt from a conversation with Nicolas: During a month of January when I was a child, the rain did not want to fall. Therefore, the elders of the village ordered the younger ones to go down into the yunga to pick up some frogs and toads from the rivers. Therefore, we got down and collected the largest number of am‐ phibians. The day after the rain began to fall. Frogs and toads live a large part of their lives in the water and, therefore, they have a very close reciprocal relationship with the rain. They know how to call the water. That is why we have put them on the slopes of a dry mountain. Because in order to survive they needed water and the rain fell (Nicolas P., Cuzco July 2013). Indeed, for the Q’ero humans are connected to all other beings (humans or non-humans) by means of a vital flow. According to my interlocutors, there is not a shared noun to define this vital flow, but they often speak about animu, kallpa, sami, or samay.12 Catherine Allen (2008: 56) defines a sim‐ ilar term, the sami, as an animated essence that can be transmitted ritually in several ways, such as 11 Animu is a word that can be used as synonym to spirit. 12 Regarding the use of the terms sami, samay, animu, and kallpa in the Andes see also Seligmann (1987) and La Riva González (2005). A Cosmopolitical Ethnography of a Changing Climate among the Q’ero of the Peruvian Andes 45 Anthropos 115.2020 blowing on coca leaves or pouring drops of a drink on the floor. What is more, Ricard Lanata (2007: 89) argues that the terms samay and samin‐ chay are not the act of blowing but rather the act of making a gift of sami. In the Q’ero social uni‐ verse, different entities live according to a hierar‐ chy linked to their importance: the apu and the Pachamama dominate this hierarchy, followed by men, situated higher up than alpacas and llamas. The ancestors, or machula, also have an important place in this hierarchy. However, the hierarchy is unstable and may change according to the situa‐ tion in which the relationship in between these en‐ tities exerts itself. Thanks to their ceremonies, the Q’ero are able to transfer this vital flow between the different entities that make up their social uni‐ verse. This exchange can be carried out between two or more humans, between humans and nonhumans, or further still between non-humans. The Ritual of phallchay As we have just seen, it is by means of ceremonial activities that the Q’ero reestablish, maintain, or perpetuate a reciprocal relationship (or ayni), mainly with the apu and the Pachamama. One good example is the phallchay (it takes the name of the gentian flower phallcha, Gentiana luteo‐ marginata Rein), a propitiatory ritual for the re‐ production of Andean camelids, in particular the alpacas, that is celebrated in the puna in a family context. In this situation, phallchay means “to bloom the alpacas.” Some days before the phallchay, the Q’ero begin to prepare the chicha (corn beer) that has to be ready for the celebra‐ tions taking place on the Monday before Ash Wednesday as part of the Carnival celebrations. Prior to the ritual of the phallchay, the Q’ero cele‐ brate the chayampuy, the first celebration of the cycle of the Q’ero Carnival, in which the tradition‐ al authorities (carguyuq) are replaced. The newly elected carguyuq have to choose the propitiatory song that will be sung by the whole community during the rest of the year. The chayampuy, like Ash Wednesday, is celebrated in the ceremonial village of Hatun Q’ero, at the qheswa level. During the propitiatory ritual of the phallchay, the Q’ero ask the sacred forces for the protection, multiplication, and fertility of their alpacas. In the days before the phallchay, the women finish weaving the new suits that will be used for the cel‐ ebration. At four in the morning on Monday, the Q’ero wake up and begin preparing for the cele‐ bration. Each family in the community places four white flags outside the door of their house, act that warns everyone that they are celebrating their flocks. Then the men prepare two small pieces of clod, called waylla ch’ampa, that were traditional‐ ly cut out of the grassland near the house. After that, the clods are placed in the interior of the house facing the rising sun, an orientation that has the function of thanking the sacred forces. Red phallcha (Gentiana scarlatina) and white fhuña flowers are then placed on the clods. The red phallcha flowers represent the Pachamama while the white fhuña flowers represent the apu. Around these are placed a woven bag filled with coca leaves, a bottle of strong alcohol, and some cups of chicha (see Fig. 3). In the early hours of the morning, the new car‐ guyuq visit the families celebrating the phallchay. When the carguyuq arrive at a house, they meet with the family members placed around the clods. They then begin chewing coca leaves, making li‐ bations (ch’alla) to the clods, singing and invok‐ ing the apu and the Pachamama to request the fer‐ tility and reproduction of their camelids as well as the well-being of the family. Once finished, the Q’ero go out to look for their animals and gather them within the family corral before throwing the red phallcha and white fhuña flowers towards the alpacas and the llamas. Once the animals are in‐ side the corral, all the members of the family kneel in front of them, uttering ritual enunciations directed at the sacred forces requesting the protec‐ tion and fertility of the herds. When they are near the corral, the men play their flutes (pinkullu) and both women and men sing. The song “Pantilla t’ika” is sung to the cattle every year during the phallchay. The lyrics of the song speak of the reverence of the Q’ero toward the sacred forces, their cattle, and the medicinal flowers (Wissler 2005: 395). The melody of the “Pantilla t’ika” song is sad and causes the partici‐ pants to begin crying. According to the Q’ero, the song represents the suffering due to living in very difficult conditions. Each stone (inqaychu) used during the ritual symbolizes the strength of an apu and for this reason they play a very impor‐ tant role in the celebration of phallchay as well as in in other ceremonies devoted to the fertility of animals. The ritual of the phallchay reaches its peak with a kind of benediction aimed at maintaining the health of the animals. The performance is similar to a short ritual articulated around the presence of two young alpacas, a male (macho) and a female (hembra) one. The next day, Tuesday, almost ev‐ ery Q’ero goes down to the village of Hatun Q’ero 46 Geremia Cometti Anthropos 115.2020 to celebrate the communal celebration of Ash Wednesday. The ritual of the phallchay is a good way of shedding light on the type of relation the Q’ero have with different non-human entities, in particu‐ lar the apu and the Pachamama (represented in the ritual by white and red flowers), but also the al‐ pacas, their most important animal companions. During the ritual, the Q’ero help transfer the vital flow between the different entities that inhabit their social universe. Thus, it is possible to believe that such a flow can be considered a gift given to the divinities. For instance, the gifts that the Q’ero offer to the apu and the Pachamama during their offerings or despacho are not “things” but, e.g., coca leaves, that are burnt during a ceremony but a vital flow or an animated essence of those “things.” The same logic can be found in the liba‐ Fig. 2: Q’ero during the phallchay ritual (photo G. C.). Fig. 3: Q’ero during the phallchay ritual adorning the animals (photo G. C.). tion: the Q’ero pour some alcohol onto the ground so as to transfer the essence of the liquid to the clods. According to Guillermo Salas Carreño (2014: S202), the Q’ero give food-offerings to the divinities (defined by the author as place-persons) in fixed occasions in order to acknowledge them. In accordance with Salas Carreño, I consider it not as a mistake to think that the Q’ero offer food by means of their ceremonies: sometimes my inter‐ locutors spoke of mikhuy (to eat). This same logic is clearly visible on the 1st and the 2nd days of November, during which dead people are celebrat‐ ed offering them food. On those dates, the Q’ero organize a ritual table set with different kinds of food and coca leaves intended for the dead people. During this ceremony, in November 2016, I was in Hatun Q’ero when a Q’ero told me: “The dead people are eating with us.” However, I personally think it is more pertinent considering the offerings not only as food but more than that. Walter, from the community of Hatun Q’ero, underlines this quite obviously: When we burn an offer for the Pachamama it is not like food but it’s like an energy (samay) ... When you call the apu ... or you burn the offer, the smoke goes to the apu and they receive this energy (Walter Q., October 2016). This vital flow can also be seen as a gift given by the divinities to the humans, seeing it as if the apu and the Pachamama would send a “vitality” flow towards humans, animals, and other entities. This flow manifests itself through the good health of humans and animals, as well as by the fertility of the farmable lands. For the Q’ero, it is this ener‐ getic circulation, that safeguards the equilibrium between all the entities that inhabit the world. As a consequence, when a person becomes ill, he or she loses some of his/her vital flow. It is then a paqu, with the help of plants and stones, who has the power to recreate that person’s equilibrium. A Troubled System of Reciprocity We have seen that most Q’ero explain climate change as the result of the abandonment of certain rituals performed in favour of the apu and the Pachamama. This interpretation tends to make the Q’ero feel particularly guilty for having changed religion or for simply thinking of commercializing their ceremonies for the inhabitants and the tourists of Cuzco. Indeed, the majority of the Q’ero’s most power‐ ful paqu no longer live within the five communi‐ A Cosmopolitical Ethnography of a Changing Climate among the Q’ero of the Peruvian Andes 47 Anthropos 115.2020 ties. Many Q’ero have explained to me that every‐ thing has changed because they have been drawn away, seduced by the idea of money, but also be‐ cause of a demonstrated lack of interest concern‐ ing the ritual practices among the younger genera‐ tions. A combination of factors, therefore, has led to the progressive neglect of several ceremonies. The abandonment of those rituals like llaqta hampiy, papa hampiy, sara hampiy, which should appease the divinities, has contributed to a de‐ crease in the circulation of the vital flow, and should be understood in light of the analogy be‐ tween the energetic flow and the water cycle. The apu and the Pachamama are said to have created both of these for the humans. Within the Q’ero way of thinking the world, everything is connect‐ ed and thus interdependent. The water cycle flows from the glaciers to the sea through the rivers and returns as rain or snow. Yet, this is the cycle most disrupted by global warming. We can find the same logic in the discourse of the main interlocu‐ tor of Joseph W. Bastien (1985: 597) when he was studying the Callawaya in Bolivia. When Bastien asked him to explain the mountain/body metaphor, he answered: “I am the same as the mountain, Pachamama. Pachamama has fluids which flow through her, and I have fluids which flow through me. Pachamama takes care of my body, and I must give food and drink to Pachamama.” What is more, for the Callawaya the spirit called juch’uy ajayu, is a fluid that gives consistency to the body and links it together on a psychological scale. Bastien thus defines the so-called juch’uy ajayu as a fluid that flows through the body, similar to elec‐ trical energy. This reminded me of a conversation that I had with one of my main Q’ero interlocutors, Santos Q., when he told me: The rain has raised us, we have always lived according to her (Santos Q., Hatun Q’ero, May 2011). Following the metaphor between mountain/body and the circulation of an energetic flow, it is also possible to make an analogy between the illness of an individual and the environment in general. Even though in practice the well-being of individ‐ uals, animals, or cultivated plants is linked to their environment, family or private offerings also aim at protecting the health of each individual of the family, as well as the food and the animals that be‐ long to the family. For example, A. Molinié Fiora‐ vanti (1985: 111) points out the way in which rela‐ tionships of reciprocity also intervene in healing practices. She explains that when a paqu tries to heal a sick person, he does so through an offering to the apu. This offering enables the re-establish‐ ment of the reciprocal relationship that had been “deteriorated” between the sick person and the di‐ vinities. Modern and Relational Water In July 2012, I had the opportunity to teach a course about the social impact of climate change at the UNSAAC (Universidad Nacional de San Antonio Abad del Cusco) in Cuzco as part of a diploma on the impacts of climate change in the Andes. With the exception of a few academics, the participants were professionals from the Cuzco re‐ gion. Most of them were working in NGOs or in some branches of the regional state of Cuzco. Their training mainly had to do with agronomy, engineering, chemistry, biology, and geology. In other words, they all came from the natural sci‐ ences and they were following the training in or‐ der to integrate some knowledge on climate change into their work. During the course, I sug‐ gested a group exercise during which I presented the main manifestations of climate change in the Q’ero region, such as the melting of glaciers, changes in rainfall, and so on. I also briefly ex‐ plained to them the context of the Q’ero’s current situation. The participants were supposed to play the role of an NGO that arrives at the Q’ero terri‐ tory and takes note of the situation. I then asked them what the priority of a NGO or of the state would be in front of a situation such as that found in Q’ero land. Their responses were technical ones – typical for the world of development – and, to simplify, they claimed it would be necessary to set up an artificial irrigation system in order to im‐ prove the use of water during the dry season. No one within the six groups of more than twenty people suggested going beyond technical solutions and to observe in the first place the real impact of climate change on the social life of the communi‐ ty. This episode, added to my experiences with Q’ero during the last seven years, led me to think that the NGOs and the regional state are often re‐ luctant to take into account the local representa‐ tions of climate change in order to tackle their dif‐ ficulties. Different practices can produce two divergent conceptions of water, as Astrid B. Stensrud (2016: 94) shows, working in the Colca Valley near the city of Arequipa with populations who in view of climate change recently have introduced exoge‐ nous practices and technologies in their agricultur‐ 48 Geremia Cometti Anthropos 115.2020 al techniques. On the one hand, there is a concep‐ tion of exogenous water that the author defines as “modern water” (H2O) and, on the other hand, a more local conception defined as “relational wa‐ ter.” For Stensrud, there are some possible onto‐ logical conflicts between relational and modern water. However, Stensrud states, different worlds can be complementary: they can overlap and con‐ nect and often take part in more than one water world. To say it differently, a technical innovation introduced by an external actor does not necessar‐ ily lead to the abandonment of a ritual activity. On the other hand, Karsten Pærregaard (2014), also working in the Colca Valley, argues that An‐ dean communities, even the most isolated ones, are increasingly confronted with what this author calls “globalization” and are thus beginning to in‐ tegrate modern components into their lifestyles. IOs, NGOs, and in particular the national and re‐ gional states are implementing programs of mod‐ ernization in rural areas by introducing new tech‐ nologies and connecting local populations to the rest of the world. According to Pærregaard (2014), contemporary Andean communities, influenced by these exogenous actors, are rethinking their world‐ view as well as the way they adapt to climate change. For example, the author shows that in some localities in the Colca Valley the Peruvian state has changed its irrigation systems through technical innovations. According to him, these changes have completely altered the relationship that these communities maintain with their sacred mountains as well as with other elements of their physical environment. Pærregaard also points out that the farmers have stopped organizing the ritu‐ als aimed at asking the divinities for a good har‐ vest: Today, the state provides the answers to their needs. Thus, the state has replaced these deities, playing the role of a water supplier who has suc‐ ceeded where the divinities have failed. This has led the inhabitants of these communities to gradu‐ ally abandon their ritual practices once dedicated to their sacred mountains. During my last fieldworks in the Hatun Q’ero community, in the years 2015, 2016, and 2017, I was able to observe such technical changes for the first time. For example, a small artificial irrigation system was implemented in the little garden of a resident, and a large house built by an NGO had the objective of protecting the alpacas and llamas during the nights of frost. I was also able to ob‐ serve what has been a common practice for some years now: the intra-cutaneous injections of an an‐ tibiotic and anti-inflammatory medicament des‐ tined to alpacas and llamas. Nevertheless, in my opinion, these arrangements clearly can be seen as premises of a collapse of a system of practices, al‐ ready noticed by Pærregaard, asserting that the Andean populations – even the most remote ones – under the influence of the state or other external actors introducing modern irrigation systems, are ceasing to organize those rituals, which had been meant to ask the deities for a good harvest. In what seems to be a transition from “relational wa‐ ter” to “modern water,” the author speaks clearly of “broken cosmologies,” following the tradition of social change analysis and syncretism in terms of acculturation and collapse of traditional struc‐ tures. However, I believe that thinking whether or not the Andean populations are abandoning their cosmologies in favor of the so-called modern ones is misplaced and simplistic. Of course, popula‐ tions such as the Q’ero are increasingly open to exogenous actors. Tourism, especially mystical tourism, is increasing, while state, NGOs, and even mining companies are increasing their pres‐ ence on their territory. For instance, the state is implementing an “Ethno-Development” program and several NGOs are organizing trips for New Age tourists whose finality is to support various development projects in the Q’ero territory. These two types of actors share both common and para‐ doxical ideas: they both want to provide aid in terms of infrastructure, health, education, etc., based on the common ideologies of development programs in the Global South. They also both share the desire to preserve and even to save the “Q’ero culture” as the living guardians of the mythical past of the Incas. However, as Salas Carreño (2012: 26) points out, the heterogeneity of populations living in the Andean regions of southern Peru cannot be re‐ duced to a mere dichotomy between the indige‐ nous and the modern. According to the author, we are rather confronted with locally contextualized historical processes that participate in the multipli‐ cation of ontological constructions among the An‐ dean communities. This diversity necessarily im‐ plies a familiarity with the practices that come from other ontologies. Such a theory is valid both ways: a large part of the population of the city of Cuzco, as well as the institutional actors, are well informed about practices based on the existence of agency-endowed non-human entities. The example of the impact of climate change among the Q’ero clearly shows that several differ‐ ently populated worlds coexist. A cosmopolitical ethnography makes it possible to “control the equivocation” and to see that these worlds are not completely disjointed and that there can some‐ A Cosmopolitical Ethnography of a Changing Climate among the Q’ero of the Peruvian Andes 49 Anthropos 115.2020 times be a complementarity between the practices resulting from each world. For example, intra-cu‐ taneous injections and water irrigation systems do not exclude rituals for the welfare of herds. In ad‐ dition, the practices and the technologies imported by external actors to address climate change can also have certain limitations and, thus, cannot completely replace traditional practices. For in‐ stance, a large-scale irrigation system might solve the problem of occasional droughts, but it will be useless to fight heavy rain during the rainy season. Indeed, like the ritual practices, the state and the NGOs are not always able to solve every problem caused by climate change. Conclusion As we have seen earlier, the Q’ero region has al‐ ways been a difficult place to live in terms of weather conditions. Thus, it is possible to say that the Q’ero’s discourse today is based on nostalgia for times past. I believe that this can in part be true; indeed, we find similar narratives concerning the past amongst other societies around the world. Nevertheless, there is one thing on which natural scientists, activists, authorities, and local commu‐ nities agree: the weather and the climate are changing, no matter how those changes are thought. The Q’ero certainly already have experi‐ mented brutal changes in the past. For instance, the El Niño climate phenomenon that occurred in 1997 in Peru, and which brought heavy rains with catastrophic consequences for Q’ero agriculture as well as the death of several animals (Le Borgne 2002: 526). Strong rainfalls caused by El Niño are nothing new in this part of the American conti‐ nent; El Niño of 1997 was not an isolated case. However, two major changes that have to be taken into account have occurred over the same period of time. Firstly, in the last three decades natural scientists and indigenous communities both agreed that the frequency and the intensity of atmospheric and climatic events definitely are increasing. Sec‐ ondly, also the mobility of the Q’ero, road access, and the presence of many heterogeneous external actors in the communities are increasing. This mo‐ bility has led the Q’ero to abandon their ritual ac‐ tivities, even if they still maintain some rituals, as we have seen with description of the phallchay. Indeed, the Q’ero still maintain a specific relation‐ ship with their social universe, which is why it re‐ mains very important to understand the relation between autonomy and dependency. In this article, I have presented three distinct groups of people that account for the changes fol‐ lowing different schemes, as witness of the num‐ ber of various discourses concerning the changing of the climate. These groups, as we have seen, do not have exclusive points of view, as the same per‐ son can reproduce two or even three different hy‐ pothesis to explain these climatic changes. I think, it is necessary to compare the first two groups and their responses with the reflections developed by the last group. A comparison of the different groups indeed will open up several paths of re‐ search that will better reflect the diversity and complexity characterizing the indigenous commu‐ nities increasingly exposed to urbanization. Even taking into account those Q’ero who speak in terms of the scientific discourse to ex‐ plain climate change, I do not think one should follow the words of Pærregaard and talk of a “bro‐ ken cosmology.” Just because the Q’ero are using scientific terms, to me such a conclusion appears to be too simple. Using scientific terms does not mean that the Q’ero understand the scientific background of these terms or would explain the phenomena in the same way as a scientist. How‐ ever, the interactions with external actors in the Q’ero region (including myself) and their increas‐ ing migration towards urban areas make them more and more exposed to the scientific narrative, which is certainly not without influence. Even if there are not substantial differences between the Q’ero who migrated to Cuzco and those who stayed in the communities, this may likely change in the near future. The second group, as said earlier, is composed of people who see climate change as a sign of the end of the cyclical time. A few Q’ero, for exam‐ ple, refer to the melting of glaciers. In this type of discourse, we find elements typical to Andean cosmologies – the concept of pachakuti – but also characteristic elements of the discourse of the evangelical churches concerning the end of the world. Despite the presence of such elements, the influence that the evangelical churches have on the Q’ero way to explain climate change requires further research. Such a study would also require an analysis of the relation between the explana‐ tions that understand the effects of climate change as signs of the end of a temporal cycle and the ex‐ planations that insist on the breakdown of the reci‐ procity relationship. Indeed, one might wonder if a Q’ero, thinking that the end of the world will ar‐ rive no matter what, would still try to maintain a reciprocity-based relationship with the entities that populate his social universe. 50 Geremia Cometti Anthropos 115.2020 Climate change is a constant threat that mani‐ fests itself in a variety of forms and whose origin can appear intangible. We have seen that among the Q’ero it is possible that, in spite of the intro‐ duction of new techniques in order to face climate change, they carry on doing offerings to the di‐ vinities. There seems to be a complementarity be‐ tween these two worlds. For example, modern technical solutions may perhaps make up for the decline of the ritual activity that has shifted to‐ wards satisfying the tourists and the inhabitants of Cuzco. A cosmopolitical ethnography of the Q’ero practices (ritual and non-ritual) that have appeared due to climate change enables a better under‐ standing of the specific forms of relationship that such practices bring out. However, it remains es‐ sential not to forget that these modes of relation emerge within groups who, like the Q’ero, are ex‐ posed to exogenous actors. The example of the Q’ero reveals the importance of analyzing both the ways in which these exogenous agents and their practices, as well as what these external actors learn among the Q’ero were integrated into Q’ero practices and their discourses. It is precisely in such a context, and with the support of rigorous fieldwork, that a cosmopolitical ethnography be‐ comes meaningful. In other words, this approach based on ethnography that describes the variations of the modes of relation according to the contexts, would analyze at the same time the modalities of the practices resulting of the exogenous entities admitted into the different worlds. References Cited Alberti, Giorgio, and Enrique Mayer Reciprocidad andina. Ayer y hoy. In: G. Alberti Giorgio y E. Mayer (comps.), Reciprocidad e intercambio en los Andes peruanos; pp. 13–33. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos. Allen, Catherine J. La coca sabe. Coca e identidad cultural en una comuni‐ dad andina. Cusco: Centro Bartolomé de Las Casas. Bastien, Joseph W. Qollahuaya-Andean Body Concepts. A Topographical- Hydraulic Model of Physiology. American Anthropolo‐ gist 87/3: 595–611. Bird-David, Nurit The Giving Environment. Another Perspective on the Economic System of Gatherer-Hunters. Current An‐ thropology 31/2: 186–196. Blaser, Mario Ontological Conflicts and the Stories of Peoples in Spite of Europe. Toward a Conversation on Political Ontology. Current Anthropology 54/5: 547–559, 565– 568. 1974 2008 1985 1990 2013 Coudrain, Anne, Bernard Francou, and Zbignew W. Kundzewicz Glacier Shrinkage in the Andes and Consequences for Water Resources – Editorial. Hydrological Sciences Journal 50/6: 925–932. Descola, Philippe Beyond Nature and Culture. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. [French Orig. 2005] Flores Ochoa, Jorge A. Por qué Q’ero? In: J. A. Flores Ochoa et al. (eds.); pp. 29–38. La cultura Quechua. El Antoniano 109: 6–12. Flores Ochoa, Jorge A., Juan V. Nuñez del Prado Béjar y Manuel Castillo Farfán (eds.) Q’ero, el ultimo ayllu inka. Homenaje a Oscar Núñez del Prado y a la expedición científica de la UNSAAC a la nación Q’ero en 1955. Lima: Fondo Editorial de la Facultad de Ciencias Sociales, Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. [Orig. 1983] Getzels, Peter Los ciegos. Visión de la identidad del runa en la ideo‐ logía de Inkarri-Qollarri. In: J. A. Flores Ochoa et al. (eds.); pp. 311–334. Gow, David D. The Gods and Social Change in the High Andes. Madi‐ son: University of Wisconsin-Madison. Ingold, Tim The Perception of the Environment. Essays on Liveli‐ hood, Dwelling, and Skill. London: Routledge. [Orig. 2000] La Riva Gonzalez, Palmira Las representaciones del animu en los Andes del sur pe‐ ruano. Revista Andina 41: 63–88. Latour, Bruno Whose Cosmos, Which Cosmopolitics? Comments on the Peace Terms of Ulrich Beck. Common Knowledge 10/3: 450–462. Le Borgne, Yann Le contrôle vertical de différents étages écologiques chez les Q’eros. Géographie, Economie, Société 4/4: 523–531. Évolution de l’indigénisme dans la société péruvienne. Le traitement du groupe ethnique q’ero. Ateliers d’an‐ thropologie 25: 141–159. Molinié Fioravanti, Antoinette Tiempo del espacio y espacio del tiempo en los Andes. Journal de la Société des Américanistes 71: 97–114. Müller, Thomas, y Helga Müller Cosmovisión y celebración del mundo andino a través del ejemplo de la comunidad de Q’ero. Allpanchis 23: 161–176. Nuñez del Prado Castro, Óscar Una cultura como respuesta de adaptación al medio an‐ dino. In: J. A. Flores Ochoa et al. (eds.); 77–101. Pærregaard, Karsten Broken Cosmologies. Climate, Water, and State in the Peruvian Andes. In: K. Hastrup (ed.), Anthropology and Nature; pp. 196–210. New York: Routledge. 2005 2013 2005 2006 2005 2005 1976 2011 2005 2004 2002 2003 1985 1984 2005 2014 A Cosmopolitical Ethnography of a Changing Climate among the Q’ero of the Peruvian Andes 51 Anthropos 115.2020 Rancière Jacques Disagreement. Politics and Philosophy. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Ricard Lanata, Xavier Ladrones de sombra. El universo religioso de los pasto‐ res del Ausangate. Lima: IFEA; Cusco: Centro Bartolo‐ mé de Las Casas. Rivière, Gilles Bolivia. El pentecostalismo en la sociedad aimara del Altiplano. Nuevo Mundo Mundos Nuevos (15.06.2007): [01.10.2019] Salas Carreño, Guillermo Narrativas de modernidad e ideologías de diferencia‐ ción social. Algunos discursos y prácticas alrededor de la peregrinación de Quyllurit’i. Crónicas Urbanas 12: 107–122. Entre les mineurs, les grands propriétaires terriens et l’État. Les allégeances des montagnes dans le sud des Andes péruviennes (1930–2012). Recherches amérindi‐ ennes au Québec 42/2–3: 25–37. The Glacier, the Rock, the Image. Emotional Experi‐ ence and Semiotic Diversity at the Quyllurit’i Pilgrim‐ age (Cuzco, Peru). Signs and Society 2/S1: S188–S214. Seligmann, Linda J. The Chicken in Andean History and Myth. The Quechua Concept of Wallpa. Ethnohistory 34/2: 139– 170. Stengers, Isabelle Pour en finir avec la tolérance. Paris: La Découverte. The Cosmopolitical Proposal. In: B. Latour and P. Weibel (eds.), Making Things Public. Atmospheres of Democracy; pp. 994–1003. Cambridge: MIT Press. Stensrud, Astrid B. Climate Change, Water Practices, and Relational Worlds in the Andes. Ethnos 81/1: 75–98. 1999 2007 2007 2007 2012 2014 1987 1997 2005 2016 Strauss, Sarah, and Benjamin Orlove Up in the Air. The Anthropology of Weather and Cli‐ mate. In: S. Strauss and B. Orlove (eds.), Weather, Cli‐ mate, Culture; pp. 3–14. Oxford: Berg. Thompson, Lonnie G. Ice Core Evidence for Climate Change in the Tropics. Implications for Our Future. Quaternary Science Re‐ views 19/1–5: 19–35. Urton, Gary Mythes incas. Paris: Éd. du Seuil. Viveiros de Castro, Eduardo Perspectival Anthropology and the Method of Con‐ trolled Equivocation. Tipití – Journal of the Society for the Anthropology of Lowland South America 2/1: 3–22. Vuille, Mathias, Bernard Francou, Patrick Wagnon, Irm‐ gard Juen, Georg Kaser, Bryan G. Mark, and Raymond S. Bradley Climate Change and Tropical Andean Glaciers. Past, Present, and Future. Earth-Science Reviews 89/3–4: 79–96. Wachtel, Nathan Le retour des ancêtres. Les Indiens Urus de Bolivie, XXe–XVIe siècle. Essai d’histoire régressive. Paris: Éditions Gallimard. Wissler, Holly Tradición y modernización en la música de las dos prin‐ cipales festividades de Q’eros: Qoyllur Rit’i (con Cor‐ pus Christi) y Carnaval. In: J. A. Flores Ochoa et al. (eds.); pp. 375–420. Q’eros, Perú. La regeneración de relaciones cosmológi‐ cas e identidades específicas a través de la música. An‐ thropologica 28/28: 93–116. 2003 2000 2004 2004 2008 1990 2005 2010 52 Geremia Cometti Anthropos 115.2020

Abstract

The Q’ero of the Peruvian Andes are suffering rapid changes in their environment due to climate change. This article puts forward the necessity of a cosmopolitical ethnography in order to understand how a specific society deals with climate change. On the one hand, a subtle ethnography can indeed enable the researcher to transcribe the point of view of the societies directly concerned, making it possible to go beyond an approach based on the dichotomies emanating from state policies and development enterprises, like those between nature and culture or tradition and modernity. On the other hand, a cosmopolitical approach will shed new light on the way in which those societies confront this double threat by revealing the cohabitation of multiple worlds.

References
Alberti, Giorgio, and Enrique Mayer morespace
1974 Reciprocidad andina. Ayer y hoy. In: G. Alberti Giorgio y E. Mayer (comps.), Reciprocidad e intercambio en los Andes peruanos; pp. 13–33. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos.
Allen, Catherine J. morespace
2008 La coca sabe. Coca e identidad cultural en una comunidad andina. Cusco: Centro Bartolomé de Las Casas.
Bastien, Joseph W. morespace
1985 Qollahuaya-Andean Body Concepts. A Topographical-Hydraulic Model of Physiology. American Anthropologist 87/3: 595–611.
Bird-David, Nurit morespace
1990 The Giving Environment. Another Perspective on the Economic System of Gatherer-Hunters. Current Anthropology 31/2: 186–196.
Blaser, Mariomorespace
2013 Ontological Conflicts and the Stories of Peoples in Spite of Europe. To-ward a Conversation on Political Ontology. Current Anthropology 54/5: 547–559, 565–568.
Coudrain, Anne, Bernard Francou, and Zbignew W. Kundzewicz
2005 Glacier Shrinkage in the Andes and Consequences for Water Resources – Editorial. Hydrological Sciences Journal 50/6: 925–932.
Descola, Philippe
2013 Beyond Nature and Culture. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. [French Orig. 2005]
Flores Ochoa, Jorge A.
2005 Por qué Q’ero? In: J. A. Flores Ochoa et al. (eds.); pp. 29–38.
2006 La cultura Quechua. El Antoniano 109: 6–12.
Flores Ochoa, Jorge A., Juan V. Nuñez del Prado Béjar y Manuel Castillo Farfán (eds.)
2005 Q’ero, el ultimo ayllu inka. Homenaje a Oscar Núñez del Prado y a la expedición científica de la UNSAAC a la nación Q’ero en 1955. Lima: Fondo Editorial de la Facultad de Ciencias Sociales, Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. [Orig. 1983]
Getzels, Peter
2005 Los ciegos. Visión de la identidad del runa en la ideología de Inkarri-Qollarri. In: J. A. Flores Ochoa et al. (eds.); pp. 311–334.
Gow, David D.
1976 The Gods and Social Change in the High Andes. Madison: University of Wisconsin-Madison.
Ingold, Tim
2011 The Perception of the Environment. Essays on Livelihood, Dwelling, and Skill. London: Routledge. [Orig. 2000]
La Riva Gonzalez, Palmira
2005 Las representaciones del animu en los Andes del sur peruano. Revista Andina 41: 63–88.
Latour, Bruno
2004 Whose Cosmos, Which Cosmopolitics? Comments on the Peace Terms of Ulrich Beck. Common Knowledge 10/3: 450–462.
Le Borgne, Yann
2002 Le contrôle vertical de différents étages écologiques chez les Q’eros. Géographie, Economie, Société 4/4: 523–531.
2003 Évolution de l’indigénisme dans la société péruvienne. Le traitement du groupe ethnique q’ero. Ateliers d’anthropologie 25: 141–159.
Molinié Fioravanti, Antoinette
1985 Tiempo del espacio y espacio del tiempo en los Andes. Journal de la Société des Américanistes 71: 97–114.
Müller, Thomas, y Helga Müller
1984 Cosmovisión y celebración del mundo andino a través del ejemplo de la comunidad de Q’ero. Allpanchis 23: 161–176.
Nuñez del Prado Castro, Óscar
2005 Una cultura como respuesta de adaptación al medio andino. In: J. A. Flo-res Ochoa et al. (eds.); 77–101.
Pærregaard, Karsten
2014 Broken Cosmologies. Climate, Water, and State in the Peruvian Andes. In: K. Hastrup (ed.), Anthropology and Nature; pp. 196–210. New York: Routledge.
Rancière Jacques
1999 Disagreement. Politics and Philosophy. Minneapolis: University of Min-nesota Press.
Ricard Lanata, Xavier
2007 Ladrones de sombra. El universo religioso de los pastores del Ausangate. Lima: IFEA; Cusco: Centro Bartolomé de Las Casas.
Rivière, Gilles
2007 Bolivia. El pentecostalismo en la sociedad aimara del Altiplano. Nuevo Mundo Mundos Nuevos (15.06.2007): <http://nuevomundo.revues.org/6661> [01.10.2019]
Salas Carreño, Guillermo
2007 Narrativas de modernidad e ideologías de diferenciación social. Algunos discursos y prácticas alrededor de la peregrinación de Quyllurit’i. Crónicas Ur-banas 12: 107–122.
2012 Entre les mineurs, les grands propriétaires terriens et l’État. Les allé-geances des montagnes dans le sud des Andes péruviennes (1930–2012). Re-cherches amérindiennes au Québec 42/2–3: 25–37.
2014 The Glacier, the Rock, the Image. Emotional Experience and Semiotic Di-versity at the Quyllurit’i Pilgrimage (Cuzco, Peru). Signs and Society 2/S1: S188–S214.
Seligmann, Linda J.
1987 The Chicken in Andean History and Myth. The Quechua Concept of Wall-pa. Ethnohistory 34/2: 139–170.
Stengers, Isabelle
1997 Pour en finir avec la tolérance. Paris: La Découverte.
2005 The Cosmopolitical Proposal. In: B. Latour and P. Weibel (eds.), Making Things Public. Atmospheres of Democracy; pp. 994–1003. Cambridge: MIT Press.
Stensrud, Astrid B.
2016 Climate Change, Water Practices, and Relational Worlds in the Andes. Ethnos 81/1: 75–98.
Strauss, Sarah, and Benjamin Orlove
2003 Up in the Air. The Anthropology of Weather and Climate. In: S. Strauss and B. Orlove (eds.), Weather, Climate, Culture; pp. 3–14. Oxford: Berg.
Thompson, Lonnie G.
2000 Ice Core Evidence for Climate Change in the Tropics. Implications for Our Future. Quaternary Science Reviews 19/1–5: 19–35.
Urton, Gary
2004 Mythes incas. Paris: Éd. du Seuil.
Viveiros de Castro, Eduardo
2004 Perspectival Anthropology and the Method of Controlled Equivocation. Tipití – Journal of the Society for the Anthropology of Lowland South America 2/1: 3–22.
Vuille, Mathias, Bernard Francou, Patrick Wagnon, Irmgard Juen, Georg Kaser, Bryan G. Mark, and Raymond S. Bradley
2008 Climate Change and Tropical Andean Glaciers. Past, Present, and Future. Earth-Science Reviews 89/3–4: 79–96.
Wachtel, Nathan
1990 Le retour des ancêtres. Les Indiens Urus de Bolivie, XXe–XVIe siècle. Es-sai d’histoire régressive. Paris: Éditions Gallimard.
Wissler, Holly
2005 Tradición y modernización en la música de las dos principales festividades de Q’eros: Qoyllur Rit’i (con Corpus Christi) y Carnaval. In: J. A. Flores Ochoa et al. (eds.); pp. 375–420.
2010 Q’eros, Perú. La regeneración de relaciones cosmológicas e identidades específicas a través de la música. Anthropologica 28/28: 93–116.

Abstract

Anthropos is the international journal of anthropology and linguistics, founded in 1906 by Wilhelm Schmidt, missonary and member of the Society of the Divine Word (SVD). Its main purpose is the study of human societies in their cultural dimension. In honor of Wilhelm Schmidt‘s legacy, the cultivation of anthropology, ethnology, linguistics, and religious studies remain an essential component oft he Anthropos Institute – the organizational carrier of the journal.

Zusammenfassung

Anthropos - internationale Zeitschrift für Völkerkunde wird vom Anthropos Institut St. Augustin seit 1906 zweimal jährlich herausgegeben. Ursprünglich als Sprachrohr für katholische Missionarsarbeit geplant, gilt sie heute als wichtige Fachzeitschrift der allgemeinen Ethnologie. Sie behandelt sowohl kulturelle als auch sprachliche Themen in mehreren Sprachen, mit Schwerpunkt auf den Völkern des gesamtamerikanischen und afrikanischen Kontinents.