ÿþ<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01//EN"> <html lang="en"> <head> <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> <meta name="keywords" content="uneven days, unevendays"> <meta name="description" content="Uneven Days"> <title>Uneven Days - Capacocha</title> <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../standard.css"> <link rel="shortcut icon" href="/favicon.ico"> </head> <body> <div class="headimage"> <img src="../unevendays.gif" alt="unevendays"></div> <div class="nav"> <a href="http://www.last.fm/user/unevendays">Music</a></div> <div class="nav1"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/1052328">Books</a></div> <div class="nav2"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/unevendays/">Photos</a></div> <div class="nav3"><a href="http://unevendays.livejournal.com/">Blog</a></div> <div class="nav4"><a href="../writing/index.html">Other Writings</a></div> <div class="nav5"><a href="http://books.dreambook.com/zaf/unevendays.html">Guestbook</a></div> <div class="nav6"><a href="mailto:kindle@unevendays.co.uk">Contact</a></div> <div class="navhome"><a href=../index.html">Home</a></div> <div class="main"> <div class="head">Capacocha</div> [ <a href="index.html">Writing</a> ] [ <a href="../index.html">Home</a> ]<br><br> The girl was not awed by the splendour of Cusco. There had been many children walk this way; most were amazing and astounded by the capital city of the Inca empire. Most didn t know their fate. This girl, she knew. She knew she was to be the capacocha. A sacrifice. A messenger to the gods. But if she did not wonder, nor did she fear. She walked with a serenity that belied her years. All those who saw her arrive could feel it; there was something different about this child.<br><br> She walked with grace unlike the usual gait of a child of her age  she had seen only seven summers  and had a strange beauty that transcended age. She had been the pride of her village, so now, in this time of need, they gave her up.<br><br> She was to be taken before the Great Inca, the emperor himself. She must first be bathed and clothed in the finest of garments so as not to offend his eyes. This did not seem to worry the girl.<br><br> As she was led to the sacred temple of Koricancha, in the heart of the city, she watched the priests watching her. They knew she was different and they wanted to know why. Why she did not gape at the marvels  and they were marvels  of the city at the heart of the empire. There were buildings more elaborate than any she had ever seen, temples faced with pure gold, cloth so bright that she had not imagined existed. Yet she seemed to float through the city, not touching or seeing it. Nor did she ask questions of them, about the Great Inca, about her destiny.<br><br> They led her to a small chamber where she was washed and dressed. The girl let them bathe her and dress her like a doll, unresisting in their hands, until she looked like a princess. She saw herself in their eyes and was secretly pleased at how beautiful she looked in the fine clothes. They gave her a small pouch of sacred coca leaves and a tiny gold doll wearing the same clothes as she did.<br><br> Then, they took her before the emperor. <br><br> Even this failed to astound her. She made all the customary obeisances, as they had taught her, but when she looked at the Great Inca through her eyelashes, all she saw was a man. <br><br> He did not speak, but nodded approval and the girl was led away. She was taken to another little room with a sleeping pallet. Her fine clothes were taken off and she was given a simple dress of plain material. They left her then, locking the door behind them. There were many perils in the city for a child, they told her.<br><br> The girl lay awake for a while, thinking of the great city  it was said to be shaped like a puma. The girl had not seen such a resemblance, but she had not seen the city from above. She thought also of the Great Inca. For although he had seemed just a man, not a god, he was a man who had looked like an emperor. He had been regal and handsome and wore the finest clothes and jewellery the girl had seen in this city of gold.<br><br> Then the dreams came.<br><br> She stumbled around the city, leering faces of priests and city-dwelling folk alike around her, lost and confused. There was the emperor, watching her stumble, he seemed sympathetic. She tried to go to him, to kneel at his feet and ask for his protection, but the priests would not let her.<br><br> She woke, confused, as light poured into her room. The priests came not long after. They dressed her again in the fine clothes, gave her a little food, and led her to another room  a shrine to Inti  where they would perform the rites that would make her capacocha.<br><br> They gave her chicha beer, the sacred drink made from maize, and coca leaves to chew. The alcohol and drug soon acted on the girl, and she did not watch while the priests performed their ceremonies. She knew they were to sacrifice a llama for the gods favour, or as an aperitif. The girl felt vaguely sorry for the beast through the fog that enveloped her. Death had come for it out of her death  or her deification as some told her.<br><br> When the priests were finished, they led her from Koricancha in the direction of the mountain where she would be sent to the gods.<br><br> Along the way, the priests played sacred music. They were surprised when she sang along with them. Her voice was high and clear. She did not seem at all afraid.<br><br> At certain points along their route, the procession stopped and performed more rituals. They only knew where and when these were to be performed; no-one told the girl.<br><br> They passed through other towns and cities of the empire. Curious faces followed her, waiting to see her, this capacocha from another town. She had been to the capital  she had been to Cusco! She had seen the emperor! And the clothes she wore!<br><br> Her feet were starting to ache now. Although she had the hardened feet of an Andean, she had walked further now even than her journey to Cusco. Her feet were swollen in her sandals. And there was worse yet to come.<br><br> The terrain was always steep, but now they came to a mountain that seemed to reach up to the overworld, where the gods lived. The priests told her that this was Apu Sara Sara, the god-mountain that would make her a goddess and help her people. The Apu Sara Sara was powerful. It controlled the weather, affect the whole land. It was the highest mountain in the land of four quarters, they told her. It was the mightiest of the apus, the mountain gods. And she was to be given to it. She was chosen, they told her. She was fortunate.<br><br> The girl knew better. There was no glory in death. But, if in death, she could save her people, it would be worthwhile and not a waste to life. The mountain was powerful and would help them if she gave it her life.<br><br> More rituals were performed at the bottom of the mountain, and then the tortuous ascent began. Grass was laid for them to walk upon, but even so, the going was difficult. She was a girl of the mountains, and even she found it very hard. The slopes were steep. It took them many days to reach the top where the earth met the sky. Where heaven met the earth. Where life met death.<br><br> As in the other rituals, they gave her chicha and coca leaves. More than usual. And in her exhausted state, she soon left reality. She was wrapped in a fog that protected her from the cold, the pain in her feet, from the world. They sat her on a blanket. She was still different now, as ever. Most of the children brought here would sit with their knees pulled up to their chests as if to protect them from the cold, or to make them feel safer.<br><br> Not so the girl.<br><br> She sat cross-legged, calm, serene, and waited for death to take her.<br><br> She saw the mountain gathering her in, and smiled.<br><br> [ <a href="index.html">Writing</a> ] [ <a href="../index.html">Home</a> ]<br><br> </div> </body> </html>