Myth-Buiding: Vilcabamba

Myth-Building: Vilcabamba

Los Viejos: Secrets of Long Life From the People of the Sacred Valley— Grace Halsell

(1976)

MEN AND WOMEN OF VILCABAMBA:

HEALTHY, ROBUST, ACTIVE,

AND 100+ YEARS OLD.

Micaela Quezada, 104, a virgin and proud of it. But the villagers say she might still get married some day.

Manuel Ramon, 110, doesn’t know the meaning of the word “retirement.” He works in the field every day of the week except Sunday.

Miguel Carpio, 127, lives in a bare little house and behaves with the courtesy and grace of a philosopher-king.

Gabriel Erazo, a lusty 132 years old, keeps alive the dream of a great love in years to come—and propositioned the author unabashedly.

(inside cover)

The viejos had fit bodies, but their main concern had been the human heart. Their society seemed to be oriented toward the mystical, the religious, the romantic. p5 GH

The viejos all kept romantic illusions, amor gave spirit to their lives. Gabriel Erazo composed poetry, and when we would take a walk at sunset he would quote his verses to me, leaving me feeling soft and vulnerable. “I am 132,” he told me, and at the same moment he said he still had desires, ganas, to make love to a woman, that he felt this desire as strongly as he did when he was twenty. p6 GH

What might be different or special about the village? The minerals in the soil? The diet? The viejos’ attachment to the land, which they work with their hands until beckoned by death? Could it be the genetic factor? The Vilcabamba enclave of centenarians pose a fascinating puzzle for science: How is it that a tiny group of men and women have managed to survive far longer than most people in our society?

Doctors who have visited there have given us only intriguing hints that there must be “something special” about the valley. Most likely, it is not a single, distinctive, identifiable factor that contributes toward longevity and good health, but a complex combination of many factors.

A United States doctor, Eugene H. Payne, wrote a 1954 Reader’s Digest article in which he stated he had found little or no evidence of cardiac or circulatory diseases in the area. Another visitor, Albert B. Kramer, writing in a 1959 issue of Prevention, reported he suffered a cardiac condition but after a short visit to the province, he stated, “I felt better than I could ever remember.” He rhapsodized over the lush forest growth at altitudes where one would normally expect barren slopes. “Can you imagine,” he asked, “strawberries growing next to banana plants, coffee thriving in the shade of apple trees, barley and sugar cane growing side by side?” He was quite willing to accept that “something special” distinguished the province. “Perhaps that ‘something’ that is so good for the heart is the same ‘something’ that so strangely favors plant life”, he wrote. p6-7 GH

Dr. Miguel Salvador, a Quito cardiologist with an expansive personality…In 1969, Dr. Salvador, with a team of Ecuadorian doctors, made a survey of 340 persons of all ages selected at random from Vilcabamba’s total population. They found the general standard of fitness amoung the old “amazing,” an unprofessional but plainly apt description. Almost all were free of serious illness. The valley, the doctors concluded, was indeed a natural island of immunity to the physical and perhaps psychological problems that shorten lives elsewhere…“We had to believe their ages because of their accounts, reports and narrations, as well as the ages of their children and grandchildren. I was impressed, however, not because people were living to be more than 100, but because they were so active, with minds and bodies you’d expect in men and women who were 60 or 70.” p8 GH

A 1971 census identified nine centenarians in a total population of 819 people. Dr. Alexander Leaf, chief of medical services, Massachusetts General Hospital, Boston, observed that, “While extrapolation on the basis of this small village is not justifiable, the figures do represent a rate of 1,100 per 100,000 population, obviously an exceptional situation when compared with the U.S. rate of only three centenarians per 100,000 population.” p8 GH

Province officials in Loja, with no real regard for the welfare of the viejos, have been promoting the Sacred Valley as a tourist resort, much in the same way one might publicize recreational delights of a Disneyland or Coney Island. p10 GH

I felt blessed by the typical Vilcabamba weather, bright, temperate, dry. They sky and air were all promise. The day being so special made me feel a special person, my spirit became expansive as the world was wide. I saw beauty all around me. p50 GH

My approach to the Sacred Valley had elements of fantasy in it. I saw it in my mind’s eye where one might live in a pure, guileless, childlike way, free from the primitive emotions of fear and hate, cleansed of environment impurities, close to some heavenly ideal of faith and peace.

But it was an illusion. You and I can never return to that Perfect Place, if indeed it ever existed outside our dreams. We may dream of simplicity, of brotherhood and goodness, of eternal candlelight and togetherness, like Dorothy’s Land of Oz. But we cannot return to our origins, as we idealize them. Nor do any of us really desire to “go back”—to live in a mud hut with dirt floors, no running water or inside plumbing.

Still, the viejos, living close to nature and still naturally wise and unacquisitive, have much to teach us.

They live certain “truths.” The first is the “truth” that health is not a commodity that you can buy at a corner drugstore or get from a high-priced doctor. p131 GH

The most important part of biological aging may well be simply how one feels about himself. p125 GH

My living among the viejos convinced me of one cardinal rule that all of us can remember: Living a long life is, in essence, a do-it-yourself proposition. p24 GH

“The meaning of life is death”—Senor Ramon p136 GH

In a profound sense, aging implies a renewal of self, the ceaseless quest for self-identity. To a viejo such as the 110 year old Manuel Ramon, living in the remote simplicity of Vilcabamba, unassailed by the distractions of the teeming world outside, it was natural to view life as a whole, and realized that the big events were not written in politics or wars or money matters but in the human heart. p122-123 GH

Why some people grow old in agony and bitterness, others with fortitude and beauty p12 GH

1974- Road built from Loja “I wonder how long will it take ‘civilization’ to get to Vilcabamba—and to spoil it forever?” –Dr. Salvador. p10 GH

The Centenarians of the Andes- David Davies (1975)

To the people of Loja, who were Catholics, Vilcabamba with its healthy centenarians was seen as a place of miracles. p31 DD

On inquiry at some of the market shops, I found that a kind of cattle truck went to Vilcabamba about once a week.

Next morning I arrived at the bus station at 10am, to find the section of the bus for cattle, behind the benches, completely full with pigs, chickens and a couple of bullocks. The benches, too, seemed packed. I took my seat, and for two hours had the ordeal of people wanting to see to their animals. Then the bus was ready to depart. One of the bullocks, my nearest companion, started to snuffle in my pockets through the loose barrier between the human and animal sections.

The track to Vilcabamba lay for the most part along the sides of the mountain. Sometimes we descended to the floor of the valley to cross the river that lay there like a silver snake. To get over to the other side there was a rough hewn bridge, with a canopy over it, as with all the bridges in the area, though what purpose this served I could never discover. We passed several villages, all with a fine population of babies, fighting cocks and curly-haired sway-backed pigs.

Along the whole length of the ravine that we traveled for most of the thirty-five or so miles to Vilcabamba there was much evidence of old Inca tracks and ways, and here and there the ruins of some ancient building, with its crumbling field walls. Several times the passengers had to leave the bus to remake the road, which had either slipped or been washed away during the previous night, for there was more or less perpetual rain. After this there was always a ‘Tally Ho’ on the horn to bring back those passengers who were busy ‘seeing to the back tyre’. Other stops were to allow cattle to cross, baby donkeys to seek their mothers, and for Muscovy ducks, which stood in front of the bus and hissed.

We soon arrived at a village called San Pedro de la Vilcabamba. The girl beside me said, ‘It won’t be long now.’ Over the next rise we saw a valley below us; the whole bus gave a sigh, a universal cry went up- ‘Vilcabamba’- and there below us was Vilcabamba. In the centre of the broad valley lay a large village and above the village- something like a halo! It was certainly the first large piece of blue sky I’d seen since arriving in Loja.

Down the street came a figure on horseback, complete with dog; it could have been a scene straight from a western.

It was lovely to get out into the late afternoon sunshine and feel the gentle cooling breeze from the mountain. Gold seemed to be the keynote of the scene. The square was dominated by a golden-coloured church, and the whole of the plaza was a blaze of marigolds, and they in turn reflected the gleaming sunshine p32-33 DD

While gazing on the pleasant little plaza and the view all around, I could not help noticing a small mountain that rose up from the last of the gardens of the village. In fact it looked an ideal vantage point from which to survey the area and to take photographs of a panorama of the village. Perched on the top of this was a perfect little ranch-house complete with verandah.

I made my way up the broad streets, past the grazing donkeys and Indian ponies, and the friendly little dogs and long wavy-haired pigs. All the people I met in the fifteen minutes I spent on that journey were most polite in their greetings. The road then became just a path, narrowed, meandered and steepened. I now met little children, also extremely friendly, and not at all afraid. I reached the verandah, and the site was perfect. In a few moments I was approached by several lean dogs, who romped and turned over on their backs around me p33 DD

The valley of Vilcabamba has many peculiarities. It is interesting to speculate on whether the early inhabitants of the valley found its mysteries even more inexplicable than do its present ones. Certainly it has many extraordinary qualities—the plant life, the climate, the range of trees and crops growing there, its minerals, its dramatic mountains, and the remarkably regular 19 C midday temperature, which seems more or less steady at all times of the year p34 DD

Even the name of the valley is intriguing. It has been suggested that the name means ‘Sacred Valley’, derived from the language of the Quechua Indians: ‘Vilca’—sacred, and ‘Bamba’—valley. There is another possible root for its name. An interesting tree, much written about, grows (though less and less these days) in the vicinity of Vilcabamba. There are many indications—stumps, etc. –to show that it was more prolific there in the past. This is the Vilco or Wilco tree. Some say (mainly those of Spanish origin) that the valley gets its name from this tree. Plenty are found higher up the slopes of Mandango and Warango, the mountains that overlook Vilcabamba. There seems to be no reason why Vilcabamba should be picked out for its special home. This tree is found—under such names as Tamarindo, Yoke and Yacoana—all over the central and northern part of South America, so the latter explanation does not seem particularly likely.

The tree is interesting. It is very attractive with fern-like leaves, decorative branches and pretty red fruit. It has many uses among which is the extraction from it of a hallucinatory drug. The Incas also made a snuff from it. (See Genus Anadenanther in Amerindian Cultures by Siri von Reis Altschul.) p34-35 DD

The towering peak of Mandango (meaning the Devil in the Quechua language), 2,000 metres above Vilcabamba, looks at a distance like some cathedral carved by nature out of the rock—or a Noah’s Ark stuck on Mount Ararat. But when one climbs up to its base, a climb of several hours, one finds that the impression of a pillared wall that one had from the valley floor is only an illusion; for it is made up of water-worn pebbles and boulders, intermixed with a natural mortar. The mixture would be far more at home on the banks or the floor of some mighty and ancient river than up there. How did the debris get up to those heights? p35 DD

To the east of Yamburara, and five hours by pack mule from the road, there is a marvelous area of ground called pajonal with masses of vegetation and grasses of many colours. Contrasting with this verdant pasture are fourteen lakes, all with very clear water. But people rarely go there—they prefer to stay in the inhabited regions. They say that this place is full of strange noises, but to me it appeared only to be the wind.

The largest of these lakes is called Margarita, from which runs the river Masanamaca. It is believed that the sand that forms a large part of the subsoil, at least in the Vilcabamba valley, was caused by many big rivers and glaciers bringing deposits into the plain, where the village now stands. This was at one time a lake bottom. The course of the rivers can be seen in the hanging valleys that have been carved out to form the five arms of a star, Vilcabamba occupying the centre. They brought in great quantities of sand, gravel and silt, and with it calcium which is found also as a deposit, mingled to create this very fertile region. The surface of the land looks very similar to that of Loja. There occurred, at the end of tertiary times, a raising of the land due to tectonic movement, and the lake disappeared; but the sub-geology remained more or less the same, with its wealth of mineral deposits.

Climbing up above the hacienda belonging to the ‘lady’ of the village, Senora Rio Frio, about two miles distant, one reached a region that had a peculiar pinkish soil. Here bubbled up the first of the small sacred springs where the village obtained its water at one time, and on certain days the people of the village make a pilgrimage for water there, although it has been much muddied by the feet of cattle. Farther up towards the ridge of Warango, about another two miles on, is yet another spring. This is supposed to be the most sacred spring of all, and remains untouched by cattle. As a result, when I scraped away the dead leaves it lay in a little flower-strewn dell, with water that was crystal clear. There were indications that the people had visited it for centuries, by the marks and signs on the surrounding rocks. Sixty meters above this was the top of the mountain that formed a kind of ridgeback. There were signs of early habitation. Stone hut circles could be seen, possibly from Inca times. If one looked down towards where Vilcabamba lay, far down in the valley floor, a hill could be seen that obstructed most of the village from view, and where the woods did not hide the view there were many signs of early habitation. Stone hut circles could be seen, probably Inca or even pre-Inca. If we turned to the other side there was a most interesting view- the tips of some mines showing yellowish-white in the background, the river Piscobamba meandering in the foreground. A strong sense of the mystery and beauty of this historic area is engendered here p37 DD

In Vilcabamba, they were cutting down trees as fast as they could for their fires, and cutting the hedgerows and small coppices, burning them to make way for the almighty sugar cane that seems to dominate everything. In fact, in this fertile land, with its temperate climate, everything can be grown— from the violet to the fig. But this does not mean that it is always grown. More complex agricultural development is often neglected because of an inordinate affection for the sugar cane p38 DD

Local legend says that the valley was the true Paradise from which Adam and Eve were expelled. It still retains from that Paradise the purity of the atmosphere, brilliant sunshine and crystal clear sky. It is an area frequented by people who believe it has special qualities, indefinable by normal expectations; thus an ‘international sage’, Dr. Lovewisdom, who lived for a period in a cell on the mountain nearby, referred to ‘magnetic sunstorms which can eliminate the toxins that cause death- the cell being immortal if it has the means of detoxifying itself’. These enigmatic statements are a measure of the air of mystery with which people invest the area. Such ideas have been given as the reasons for the longevity of the inhabitants p40 DD

San Pedro de la Bendita, not to be outdone, also has its sacred place dedicated to the Virgin, the Virgin of El Cisne, or the Swan (in Spanish). It is a dry open space high up on the mountains above San Pedro. People who go there see in the distance a swan, but in order to get to it they have to pass round a headland, and by the time the swan has always disappeared. But why should the swan haunt such an unsuitable place for a water bird? (In their daily life the villagers take not the slightest interest in birds. Their philosophy is that God gave them all the animals, including the birds, to eat.) p42 DD

Interestingly, because of the altitude, and thus the cold, of these places, Vilcabamba, Nampacola, etc., there are no harmful reptiles there, and although there may be a few snakes, neither we nor anyone we met has ever seen any. Nor are there giant harmful insects, spiders, centipedes or dangerous mosquitoes, or harmful animals.

All this adds to the legend that the area is a paradise, with special and sacred sites. The sacredness of these sites goes back to pre-Colombian times- that is the time of the Incas, and, who knows, perhaps even before. There are no written histories. All around these villages are signs of prehistoric activities, old village sites, the stones of hut circles and marks on the mountain sides of cultivated fields from days gone by, which are much less rarely found near villages in other areas of southern Ecuador. It is as if, even in those far off days, these places were set apart and special. Despite the fact that the terrain has been much altered, trees cut down, the plant growth altered, some plants destroyed, and in general rapid and often ignorant changes made, this area still retains its quality of being special, mysterious. It is commented on by visitors and locals alike- there is an extraordinary atmosphere which pervades the region.

We must hope that the discovery of the old people with their remarkable health, and the increase in communications with the towns and cities, does not lead to the exploitation and destruction of these marvelous qualities which make the area such a unique one. There are some signs already that this danger exists- it would be a tragedy if it were allowed to spread. p42-43 DD