Earth Beings: Ecologies of Practice across Andean Worlds (Lewis Henry Morgan Lectures, 2011, Band 2011) - Softcover

De La Cadena, Marisol

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0822359634 ISBN 13: 9780822359630

Verlag: Duke University Press, 2015

Inhaltsangabe

Earth Beings is the fruit of Marisol de la Cadena's decade-long conversations with Mariano and Nazario Turpo, father and son, runakuna or Quechua people. Concerned with the mutual entanglements of indigenous and nonindigenous worlds, and the partial connections between them, de la Cadena presents how the Turpos' indigenous ways of knowing and being include and exceed modern and nonmodern practices. Her discussion of indigenous political strategies-a realm that need not abide by binary logics-reconfigures how to think about and question modern politics, while pushing her readers to think beyond "hybridity" and toward translation, communication that accepts incommensurability, and mutual difference as conditions for ethnography to work.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Marisol de la Cadena is Professor of Anthropology at the University of California, Davis, and the author of Indigenous Mestizos: The Politics of Race and Culture in Cuzco, Peru, 1919–1991, also published by Duke University Press.

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Earth Beings

Ecologies of Practice Across Andean Worlds

By Marisol De La Cadena

Duke University Press

Copyright © 2015 Duke University Press
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-8223-5963-0

Contents

FOREWORD, 
PREFACE Ending This Book without Nazario Turpo, 
STORY 1 Agreeing to Remember, Translating, and Carefully Co-laboring, 
INTERLUDE 1 Mariano Turpo: A Leader In-Ayllu, 
STORY 2 Mariano Engages "the Land Struggle": An Unthinkable Indian Leader, 
STORY 3 Mariano's Cosmopolitics: Between Lawyers and Ausangate, 
STORY 4 Mariano's Archive: The Eventfulness of the Ahistorical, 
INTERLUDE 2 Nazario Turpo: "The Altomisayoq Who Touched Heaven", 
STORY 5 Chamanismo Andino in the Third Millennium: Multiculturalism Meets Earth-Beings, 
STORY 6 A Comedy of Equivocations: Nazario Turpo's Collaboration with the National Museum of the American Indian, 
STORY 7 Munayniyuq: The Owner of the Will (and How to Control That Will), 
EPILOGUE Ethnographic Cosmopolitics, 
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS, 
NOTES, 
REFERENCES, 
INDEX, 

CHAPTER 1

STORY 1 AGREEING TO REMEMBER, TRANSLATING, AND CAREFULLY CO-LABORING

There are things to remember, these friends, these sisters have come here, we are getting together, we are conversing, we are remembering. Yuyaykunapaq kanman, huq amigunchiskuna, panachiskuna chayamun, chaywan tupashayku, chaywan parlarisayku, yuyarisayku.

NAZARIO TURPO July 2002

At the National Museum of the American Indian, and most specifically within the walls that circumscribe the Quechua Community exhibit, there are pictures of most of its curators: Nazario Turpo; a councilwoman from Pisac; and two anthropology professors from the University of Cuzco, Aurelio Carmona and Jorge Flores Ochoa. Nazario's picture includes his family — his wife, children, and grandchildren — and his dearest friend, Octavio Crispn. The caption explains he is "a paqu — a spiritual leader or shaman." Carmona is described as an ethno-archaeologist and professor of anthropology who "is also a shaman who studies and practices traditional medicine." And Flores Ochoa says of Carmona and himself: "We are anthropologists of our people. We feel and practice those things — we are not a group that just observes." All of these curators attended the inauguration of the museum, where I took the picture that I offer here.

Anthropology is part of these pictures — those at the exhibit and the one I took — and behind anthropology, as we all know, there is translation (Asad 1986; Chakrabarty 2000; Liu 1999; Rafael 2003; Viveiros de Castro 2004b). Importantly, there are differences in the relationship between translation and my practice of anthropology in Cuzco, and that of Carmona and Flores Ochoa in the same region. I was born in Lima. Quechua is not my native language, and my proficiency is weak. In contrast, Carmona and Flores Ochoa were born in the southern Andes of Peru and are native speakers of both Quechua and Spanish. When they interacted with Nazario — whether as anthropologists or as friends — they did not need translation. However, the Turpos and I could not avoid it. Articulated at the intersection of disciplinary practice and regional belonging, this difference — and not only my theoretical views — made translation a very tangible feature in my relationship with Mariano and Nazario. Through our conversations we worked together to understand each other, colaboring through linguistic and conceptual hurdles, assisted by many intermediaries, particularly Elizabeth Mamani. Our joint labor created the conversations that we could consider "the original" for this book. Thus it was not Nazario's or Mariano's cultural text that I translated. Instead, the original — which, I repeat, consisted of our conversations — was composed in translation by many of us. Inevitably, as Walter Benjamin warned, in crafting our conversations we selected "what could also be written [or talked among us] in the translator's own language" — in this case, Quechua and Spanish, and their conceptual practices (Benjamin 2002, 251). Countering the usual feeling that regrets what is lost in translation, my sense is that in co-laboring with Mariano and Nazario I gained an awareness of the limits of our mutual understanding and, as important, of that which exceeded translation and even stopped it.

This first story in the book is about how Mariano, Nazario, and I got to know each other. It recounts the initial conversations and the agreements that led to the book, and the last dialogues that Nazario and I had. The first discussions set the terms of our working together; they describe the pact the Turpo family and I made. When Mariano died two years into our conversations, I began working with Nazario — who as I mentioned in the preface, became a very dear friend. Although I start this narrative foregrounding translation, it was only during our last visits that I became aware of the intricate manner in which it had mediated our conversations and created a shared space of sensations, practices, and words, the valence of which neither of us could fully grasp. After Nazario's death, and as I wrote and thought through this book, the feeling of those last conversations made it palpable that no translation would be capacious enough to allow me to know certain practices. I could translate them, but that did not mean I knew them. And frequently not knowing was not a question of leaving meaning behind, because for many practices or words there was no such thing as meaning. The practices were what my friends did, and the words were what they said; but what those practices did or what those words said escaped my knowing. Of course I described them in forms that I could understand; but when I turned those practices or words into what I could grasp, that — what I was describing — was not what those practices did, or what those words said. Our communication (as with any conversation) did not depend on sharing single, cleanly overlapping notions; yet very particularly, it did not depend on making our different notions equivalent. Were I to have created equivalences, they would have erased the difference between us, and this — the difference — was too palpable (and its conceptual challenge important) to allow inadvertent erasures. Our conversation was "partially connected," in Marilyn Strathern's sense (2004; see also Green 2005; Haraway 1991; Wagner 1991). Intriguingly, in our case, this partial connection was composed of, among other elements, our shared and dissimilar condition as Peruvians. Our ways of knowing, practicing, and making our distinct worlds — our worldings, or ways of making worlds — had been "circuited" together and shared practices for centuries; however, they had not become one. In the circuit, some practices have become subordinate, of course, but they have not disappeared into those that became dominant, nor did they merge into a single and simple hybrid. Rather, they have remained distinct, if connected — almost symbiotically so, if I may borrow from biology. Inhabiting this historical condition that enabled us to constantly know and not know what the other one was talking about, my friends' explanations conversed with mine, and mine with theirs, and inflected the dialogue with our heterogeneity. I translated what they said into what I could understand, and this understanding was full of the gaps of what I did not get. It worked the same way for...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Duke University Press
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2015
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0822359634
• ISBN 13: 9780822359630
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 370
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: gpsr@libri.de; gpsr@libri.de; ; Europaallee 1; Bad Hersfeld; 36244; Deutschland