by George Fery
Traveling on the dry wind-swept northern coast of Peru, beside spectacular landscape, one finds interesting ways of how people make a living. That’s how a strange little raft made of reeds used by fishermen in Huanchaco, raised both eyebrows and curiosity. The large town is located eight miles north of Trujillo and 304 miles from the capital Lima, on the Pan American highway.
What a curious contraption, unlike anything one might expect for the task. And what do you say they call it? Caballito de Totora; the name translates as “Little Horse of Totora.” It seems that we have both an unusual contraption and a contradiction, because the horse, caballo or caballito for little horse in Spanish, did not exist before the arrival of the Europeans in the Americas.
How was it called in the past we don’t know, but their use is recorded over thousands of years, from ceramics of the great Moche and Chimu, and other cultures centuries before, whose fishermen adopted the very same reed raft to harvest fish. Representation of the raft in ceramics and carved in adobe walls at Tucume, a pre-Columbian site, are virtually identical to the ones used today. The nodules shown below the raft, represent waves.
Reed rafts are among the oldest river and coastal modes of transport. Remains were found on the Failaka Island in Kuwait, dated 7,000 years ago. In Egypt, rafts were built of papyrus reeds (cyperus papyrus), a close family to the Huanchaco reeds, that were widely cultivated on the Nile’s banks and its Delta, date back to 4000BC. Reeds used for raft or boat building are found in the archaeological record throughout the world.
The totora plant scientific name is Schoenoplectus californicus subsp. tatora; a mouthful isn’t? The plant is found in South America, on the shores of Lake Titicaca at 12,707 feet in Bolivia, as well as on the middle coast of Peru and, of all places, on Easter Island in the Pacific. How did it find its way there so far from south America? Birds may be the culprits; they eat seeds at one place and drop them at another.
The plant can reach a height of 20 feet, but is more commonly 13-15 feet high, that’s about the average length of a caballito de totora, the raft local name.
It is made of two bundles of totora dry reeds tied up together with double loop ropes. Today pieces of polystyrene are built into each of the twin bundles for added buoyancy, and nylon rope replace totora vines to tie up the bundles. It takes but a few hours to make a caballito, and the material used in their fabrication can rapidly and economically be replaced.
The relatively light weight of the raft at about 35+ pounds, allows it to be carried on a man’s shoulder. There is an argument about the caballito: is it a boat or a raft?
The distinction between the two is that the boat is usually waterproofed with some sort of tar, while the raft is not; so, our caballito is a raft! Could it perhaps be considered a precursor to today’s surf and paddle board?, Ooops, here is another argument.
The caballito de totora is made to get past the surf and waves in the ocean, not ride them. The raft rides the swells of the Pacific beautifully thanks to its curved pointed upward bow, in the shape of an elephant tusk. Its pre-Columbian design helps cut through the surf and reach deeper water where bigger fish are found.
A caballito rider does not go into the raft because there is no “into.” They typically ride seated or kneeling in the rectangular rear stern or straddling the raft with their legs dangling overboard. Out to sea they will avoid having their feet out, since sea lions in the area may be tempted.
Fishermen cannot go far off the coast given the limitation of their craft. They cast their nets, between two ore more caballitos, about two to four miles off shore. The nets are weighted and held by floats. After setting the nets they go their separate ways with each man dropping traps for lobster.
On a very good day the catch may be up to 80+ pounds, but more often than not the catch does not exceed about 25-35 pounds. Beside two or three lobsters perhaps, the mix of fish may include sardines, mullet, sea bass, calamari and others. The weight of the catch is limited by the craft structure in addition to the rider’s weight.
The waters teem with fish and fishermen aim for medium to large fish that sell quickly on arrival to hotels and restaurants. Commercial and private buyers are waiting on the beach…sometimes with a pod of pelicans in the shallows, since who knows what can drop off the raft?
What is not sold on the beach will be loaded in a hand cart for sale to small restaurants in town. It is a hard way to make a living and is seen as an “old man” occupation by the younger generation.
Tip: lunch on the beach front because the fish of your ceviche surely came right out of a caballito that very same day.
Speaking of ceviche, Peru’s national dish must not to be confused with others that brag about the dish name’s ownership; after all, everyone’s entitled to an opinion. There are many ways to prepare ceviche; type of fish (best is sea bass); other ingredients and spices may vary from one place to another along the coast. But you’ll want to start with a good Pisco Sour, unavoidable in this great country where the drink was born, and what a great drink it is, while waiting overwhelmed by the aroma of delightful food.
As a rule, a fisherman has two or more caballitos because the reeds soak up water and after a couple of weeks, one needs to stay on shore to dry, propped up against wooden cross bars on the beach, while the other goes to sea.
Are the caballitos fading into the sunset? In August 2014 an article in the Huanchaco Journal written by William Neuman and Andrea Zarate summed up the situation: yes. There are a number of factors among which is a long breakwater built for port traffic that altered the currents in the bay and brought significant environmental degradation that damaged the totora reed tracts and narrowed the beach. There were over 200 tracts in 2011, there are less than 120 today. As major as it sounds, it’s still a minor factor.
The major factor is the arrival a few years back of affordable fiberglass and aluminum boats that are safer, can go farther and carry more fish; the caballitos cannot compete. Fishermen today get a significant part of their income giving rides on their caballito to a steady stream of tourists. Younger men will double as surf instructors on theirs.
Alas, the young generation can get a better financial return for their labor working in the hospitality or industrial fishing industries, among other occupation. It seems that the caballitos will, in a not so distant future, be relegated to entertainment for tourists or to museums. Inexorably, their practical use is fading with each sunset.
If You Go:
Freelance writer, researcher, and photographer, Georges Fery (georgefery.com) addresses topics, from history, culture, and beliefs to daily living of ancient and today’s indigenous communities of the Americas. His articles are published online in the U.S. at travelthruhistory.com, popular-archaeology.com, and ancient-origins.net, as well as in the quarterly magazine Ancient American (ancientamerican.com). In the U.K. his articles are found in mexicolore.co.uk.
The author is a fellow of the Institute of Maya Studies instituteofmayastudies.org Miami, FL, and The Royal Geographical Society, London, U.K. rgs.org. As well as a member in good standing of the Maya Exploration Center, Austin, TX mayaexploration.org, the Archaeological Institute of America, Boston, MA archaeological.org, NFAA-Non Fiction Authors Association nonfictionauthrosassociation.com, and the National Museum of the American Indian, Washington, DC. americanindian.si.edu.
Photographs:
- Catch in Hand – ©Sergi Reboredo / alamy.com
- The Caballito – ©Willem Proos / willemproos@xs4all.nl
- Tucume – ©georgefery.com
- Polystyrene – ©J. Ashley Nixon / ashleynixon.com
- Drying Up – ©georgefery.com
Fifteen percent of the city’s 1.3 million inhabitants are students at one of the city’s seven universities, and their youthful spirit seems to have infected the entire populace. A handsome older couple strolling arm-in-arm offer a sincere buenas dias. Several Cordobans flash welcoming smiles, something that I seldom received from the somewhat reserved residents of Buenos Aires. I can’t wait to delve further into this vibrant pueblo, but first I need to find a place to drop my bags.
When I exit the cathedral, I only have to venture two blocks before I find more stunning colonial architecture. For 150 years that spanned the 17th and 18th centuries Cordoba was the capital of the former Jesuit Province of Paraguay. The Manzana Jesuitica (the Jesuit Block) comprised the core buildings of the capital: the Iglesia de la Compañia de Jesús church, the Jesuit priests’ residence, the Universidad de Cordoba, and the Montserrat Secondary School.
About the author:
It’s nearly dark by the time I exit the bus terminal. The market draws hordes of tourists on weekends so I’m a bit worried about locating a hotel, but I luck out at the first place I try. The Rincon del Viajero, only three blocks from the plaza, has one vacancy left. For US$16, I get a cozy room with baño privado and continental breakfast.
At five the next morning I somehow pry myself out of bed. I stumble along Avenida Colon toward the animal market, passing merchants who are already laying out goods and setting up awnings for the big show to come. By the time I reach the city’s outskirts, the first rays of morning sunlight are caressing Volcans Imbabura and Cotacachi, which have received an overnight dusting of snow. According to local legend, the two volcanoes are lovers. If there is fresh snow on Mama Cotacachi’s summit it means that Papa Imbabura has paid her a connubial visit during the night. I take this as an omen that the day ahead will be productive.
After an hour of jostling and ducking under awnings I reach the epicenter. The aptly named Plaza de Ponchos sells mostly textiles, but if not for the concrete umbrellas jutting overhead, it would be indistinguishable from the bedlam on the surrounding roadways.
We venture into Colombia’s Sierra Nevada mountain range, along narrow and seemingly impossible trails drenched in saturated air. After a few hours, we have crossed the same river a dozen times, as it snakes along our difficult path.
Teyuna, as the Tayrona originally called the city, was “found” in 1972 by treasure hunters. At the time, its location was already widely known to tribes living in the area. Founded possibly as far back as 800 A.D., at its peak, it is believed to have been home to about 10,000 Tayrona. Unlike many of the magnificent ruins dotting Latin America, The Lost City is not just a story of what once was, but the story of what still is. Along the way, our trail leads us through small villages inhabited by the Kogis, the blood descendants of the city’s founders. They are still living in the same wild, romantic way of their ancestors.
Either the second day is easier than the first, or my body simply has given up on feeling pain. I learn from our guide that all the villages along the way are part of one tribe, and that once a year in February they have a month of celebration in which they meet to drink fermented fruit juices and perform various rituals.
With my pack weighing me down on the slippery stairs, I almost fall several times, a mistake that could have disastrous consequences in this remote area. The stairs are by far the most difficult obstacle yet. Aching legs are being commanded up narrow stairs cutting into the steep mountainside. My cardiovascular system demands rest, but I ignore its plea. This has become my Mecca, and I vow to make it up in one uninterrupted jaunt.
How the city was built is another mystery. From samples of the rocks, archeologists have concluded that some sort of acid was used to cut perfectly shaped blocks. Because of a potential commercial value, jungle plants have been collected in throngs to find the acid, but it, like the city’s inhabitants, seems to have disappeared into the jungle forever.
To celebrate his victory, Túpac Inca Yupanqui (whose name meant ‘noble Inca accountant’) began to build a beautiful city there that would rival Cuzco as the heart of the Inca empire, a city that two generations later would be subjugated by the Spanish in their quest for the mythical land of El Dorado, the city now known as the colonial gem of Ecuador: Cuenca.
Its namesake is the city in Spain meaning ‘basin made by a confluence of rivers’, where the Viceroy of Peru at the time, Andrés Hurtado de Mendoza hailed from. He commissioned the founding of the city in 1557, which grew in independence and importance during its colonial era and reached its peak during first years of its independence, which was won on November 3rd, 1820. It later on became the capital of Azuay province in the center of the southern highlands, and is now the third-largest city in the country.
Another important historical landmark (but more exciting than it sounds) is the Iglesia de San Francisco, a neoclassical church built around a slender tower with an apricot-colored, horizontal base and mullioned windows that was built by Franciscans and finished in 1930. It is the best example of the baroque style in Cuenca and represents a harmony between baroque and neoclassical features, with a cedar altarpiece at its center. It’s situated at the edge of the expansive Plaza San Francisco which allows visitors views from many different angles, as the plaza has long-since been occupied by a popular, sprawling market where one can buy anything from alpaca backpacks to plastic Disney ones.
