Sedim v kavarni v Cuscu, terorizira me osladna, solzava
glasba, ki jo stalno vrtijo na Radiu Robin in ki me očitno zasleduje – trenutno
uživam v posebej krasni I want to know what love is – in
ugotavljam, da v Peruju očitno ne morem brati Aljazeere, BCC-ja, New York
Timesa, Dnevnika in sploh vseh nikakršnih novic, kar mi sploh ni všeč, glede na
to, da mi Facebook sporoča, da so od danes naprej zaprte grške banke. Ne bi
bilo slabo česa vedeti o temu. Slušalke v ušesa – Brazilian Beats Brooklyn –
rešena sem. Znanka, ki tudi dela za eno od nevladih organizacij, mi je v
nedeljo med sprehodom do templja lune govorila o tem, da novic ne bere že pet
mesecev. Mogoče se za ljudi čas ustavi, ki prispejo sem? Mogoče se osredotočijo
samo na to realnost tukaj? Ni težko razumeti, zakaj bi se. Občutek, da si sredi
popolnoma drugačnega sveta, mističnost Cusca, stare prestolnice Inkovskega
imperija, bližina svete doline, v kateri živijo potomci Inkov, delo v nevladnih
organizacijah, ki lahko včasih deluje malo nezemeljsko, kup veganskih,
vegetarijanskih, alternativnih restavracij, hostlov in združenj, ki imajo tu
kup privržencev, turistične agencije, ki obljubljajo šamanske izlete v džunglo
in do Machu Pichu. Zato se mi zdi važno, da najdem način, da uživam v obeh
svetovih in se ne izgubim samo v enem: da torej odkrijem te starodavne kulture
in njihove moderne manifestacije, a da ne zreduciram te izkušnje samo na to –
že tako se mi zdi, da se velikokrat te potomce Inkov gleda kot na neke žive
fosile, ostanke preteklosti, ki naj ne bi smeli imeti mobitelov ali televizij,
ker da jih to dela ne-avtentične. Kako sranje. Veselim se pohodov do njihovih
vasi, intervjujev, ki jih bom opravila z njimi. Najprej moram izvedeti, kakšno
je stanje, kar se tiče revščine, vključenosti, pravice do vode, izobrazbe in
enakosti spolov, v vaseh, ki so podobne tistim, od katerih Mosqoy odkupuje
tekstil, ki ga potem po principu pravične trgovine prodaja v Kanadi. Nato moram
skozi intervjuje izvedeti, kakšno je stanje v vaseh, v katerih Mosqoy deluje. Naj
pišem, naj ne? Naj objavim, kar pišem? Kakšen smisel ima objavljati svoje občutke in misli? Kakšen smisel ima brati občutke in misli
neke punce, ki čepi na drugem koncu sveta in odkriva nekaj – zanjo - novega?
Morajo tej spiski navdihovati, nasmejati, spodbuditi k razmišljanju, razjeziti?
Ne vem. Ni treba, da vem. Pisala
bom pač, ker se mi zdi, da je škoda, da bi raziskovala sama.
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| Podvojen pogled na Cusco na poti do Templja lune. // A doubled view of Cusco on the way to the Temple of the Moon. |
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| Pogled iz Case Mosqoy. // View from Casa Mosqoy. |
I'm sitting in a café in Cusco, terrorized by the mawkish,
soppy music, which they constantly play on Radio Robin, a Slovenian radio
station, and which is clearly following me – I'm currently enjoying the particularly
wonderful I want to know what love is.
I'm realizing that in Peru I apparently cannot read Aljazeera, BCC, The New
York Times, Dnevnik or any other news channel, and I don’t like that at all,
given the fact that Facebook is telling me that from today on, the Greek banks
are closed. I wouldn’t mind knowing a thing or two about that. Headphones in my
ears - Brazilian Beats Brooklyn – I’m saved. Another NGO worker told me on
Sunday during a walk to the temple of the moon that she hasn’t been following
the news for the past five months. Is it possible that the time stops for
people when they arrive here? Maybe they concentrate only on this reality here?
It is not difficult to understand why this could be: the feeling that you are
in the middle of a completely different world, the mystique of Cusco, the old
capital city of the Inca Empire, the proximity of the sacred valley in which
the descendants of the Incas live, NGO work, which can sometimes feel a bit out
of this world, a bunch of vegan, vegetarian, alternative restaurants, hostels
and associations who have a bunch of followers here, tourist agencies which promise
shamanic trips into the jungle and to Machu Pichu. I find it important to find
a way to enjoy both worlds and not get lost in just one of them: to discover
these ancient cultures and their contemporary manifestations, but not to reduce
this experience only in that – as it is, it seems to me that many of the
descendants of the Incas are seen as living fossils, the remains of the past
that should not have mobile phones or televisions because that would make them
non-authentic. What bullshit. I look forward to the hikes to their villages, to
the interviews that I am going to conduct with them. First of all, I have to
find out what the situation with regards to poverty, inclusion, rights to
water, education and gender equality are in the villages, which are similar to
those from which Mosqoy purchases textiles which is then sold in Canada according
to the principles of fair trade. After that I will carry out interviews with
the people Mosqoy works with to find out what the situation in the villages in
which Mosqoy operates. Should I write? Should I post
what I write? What
is the point of posting one's feelings and thoughts? What's the point of reading the
feelings and thoughts of a
girl who is on the
other end of the world, discovering
something new – but only to her? If I write and post, must these posts inspire, laugh, make
people think, make them mad? I do not know. I do not need to know. I
will write because it seems to me
a pity to be discovering alone.
