An American in Lima

The more I learn about the handmade clothing worn by traditional people in the Andes, the more impressed I become.

The outfit above isn’t a museum piece, although it displays like one in the “Perú Hecho a Mano” boutique at Saga Falabella, in Lima’s Jockey Plaza mall. It is a very elaborate version of the typical dress worn to this day by Quechua women of the Andes. You see people dressed like this all throughout the Peruvian sierra when you venture away from the relatively big city of Cusco.

Each piece of clothing is made by hand, often from handspun wool, and features intricate embroidery, beading or tassels. That green napkin-looking thing (where the mannequin’s head should be) is a flat fringed hat known as a montera. (I’ve seen ladies at Qoyllur Rit’i using theirs as plates for bread and jam in the morning; the crumbs brush right off!)

Mike Weston and his staff at “My Peru” describe other elements of the traditional women’s outfit:

Lliclla - a small rectangular hand-woven shoulder cloth fastened at the front using a tupu, a decorated pin. However it is more common nowadays to see a large safety pin being used.

 K’eperina - a larger rectangular carrying cloth worn over the back and knotted in front. Children and goods are securely held inside.

Polleras - colourful skirts made from hand-woven wool cloth called bayeta. Women may wear 3 or 4 skirts in a graduated layer effect. On special occasions such as festivals women may wear up to 15 polleras tied around the waist. Often the trim of each skirt is lined with a colourful puyto which is usually handmade. In some areas polleras are also referred to as melkkhay (Quechua)

Monteras - hats vary tremendously throughout the communities in the Andes. Often it is possible to identify the village from which a woman comes from just by the type of hat she wears. Hats are secured with delicately woven sanq’apa straps adorned with white beads.
Unkuña - a small rectangular cloth which is used for carrying snacks such as corn or coca.

Ajotas - sandals made from recycled truck tires.

(Click here for info on Andean festivals from “My Peru.”)

I remember reading an account by a woman anthropologist about her fieldwork in a remote Andean village, where she came to a new understanding about what it means to be rich vs. poor. The anthropologist arrived at the village feeling rather superior in her expensive hiking boots and water-repellent trekking pants and Gore-Tex jacket.

In contrast, the Quechua locals, in their homespun outfits, seemed to her quaint and poor. The women’s flouncy skirts seemed centuries removed from her practical pants, which marked her (she thought) as modern and liberated.

After a month or two went by, the villagers began to open up. They asked the anthropologist questions: Did she have a husband? A mother? Sisters? Aunts?

Didn’t she have anyone at home to make her clothes?

The anthropologist realized that in the eyes of her field subjects, a person who wore store-bought clothes did so because she had no one who cared deeply enough to make them for her.

Far from being a mark of status or wealth, the anthropologist’s expensive outdoor wear suggested to these Andean villagers that she was not loved.

A humbling realization, no?

Something for us so-called modern visitors to consider when we encounter traditional people in the sierra. Whose definition of “rich” presides? The ones with the cash? Or those whose lives are rich in connections to others and to the earth?