A true story about how a stray dog blessed our sacred despacho near the Moon Temple of the Inca’s, high in the mountains around Cusco, Peru…
He greeted our party as if he was a trusted friend of us, waiting for our arrival with anticipation and wagging his long tail with good natured joy. He didn’t even ask if we needed his company, he just went into a quiet trot, while we headed downwards to the Moon Temple just outside the city bustle of Cusco. He looked to me like a blond, domesticated Labrador in top condition and he surprised me with his excellent social skills, as if he was a highly trained dog, who just happened to be on the loose.
I was happy that the despacho was finally going to happen. I had asked Don Hernan about it ever since we started working together, but the first week he insisted that I should give priority to my own process, instead of treating my friends to one of the most basic Inca ways of giving thanks to Pacha Mama (Mother Earth). But after all the glorious days I had spent with my Paqo teacher, meditating, and receiving initiations in the most stunning locations imaginable, I felt the urge growing to share some of this joy with my new friends.
After the third time I had been asking him about a possible despacho with them, he finally agreed. He was happy to hear that we would be three men and three women all together, because this would mean a perfect balance between the yanantin aspects of our group. Yanantin–Masintin is the Inka equivalent of the Yin-Yang symbol, signifying the balance between two complementary opposites, like male and female, day and night. The opposite of yanantin is masintin, when you have two of the same, like female and female, a book lover and a book lover. Both aspects are equally important in the way the Inka’s thought, and much study and care were given to the delicate balance between the dynamics of yanantin and masintin, even reflecting in their architecture.
The despacho was planned this Friday at ten o’ clock near the Moon Temple in Cusco. I had taken care of most of the ingredients, so I was carrying a bag with ready-made offerings, like candies, lama grease, seashells and rice that I had purchased at the market of San Pedro, and another bag with small bottles of white and red alcoholic drinks and fresh flowers in the exact colors Don Hernan had ordained for today: red, white and yellow.
We were walking in three lines. I was heading the party, together with our friendly volunteer dog. Behind me Don Hernan was walking and chatting affectionately with our wonderful Señora Clorinda, the mother of the guest house I was staying. She possessed the gift of making every guest feel right at home at her place and spoiled us all rotten with her hugs, laughs and excellent meals. It was very unusual for her not to be at her house, attending her guests and preparing all the meals, but her 33-year-old son Martin had offered to cook the almuerzo (lunch) today, so she could finally do something to spoil herself for a change and join our despacho.
The last lign of our party was filled with Dutch chatter. Willem and Anneloes were two Dutch youngsters in their twenties, both students of the same Spanish school in Cusco, valiantly struggling with their homework and the construction of proper Spanish words and sentences each day. Willem also combined his Spanish classes with two weeks of volunteer work, working with handicapped adults the first week and under priviledged children the second week. They had never witnessed a despacho before, so they were really looking forward to this Inca style, shamanic ritual, performed by a traditional Paqo or Pampa Mesayoc.
We had also invited another male friend, Koen, the cheerful Dutch owner of the Spanish school in Cusco, which Willem and Anneloes attended. He had looked forward to the despacho with great anticipation, as he had a yearning for more knowledge of the shamanic traditions in the region, but had called in sick that morning, leaving us with two men and three women.
Our guide dog seemed to know what we were up to. As soon as we reached our destination, and we started to unpack our stuff, next to some carved out Inca rocks that were designed for offerings, he lied down as if he expected us to be there for some time.
Señora Clorinda was sitting as straight as she could on one of the Inca altar stones, that was cut out like a giant seat. With her bad back she was happy she didn’t have sit on the ground. Don Hernan was dressing the grass with a brightly colored, traditionally woven cloth and unpacking all the ingredients he was going to use for the offering. Willem and Anneloes were taking pictures and finding a place where they could sit comfortably around the ritual.
I took out a small woven cloth out of my bag that was just large enough to sit on and settled myself besides the dog. I felt a connection with the dog that was hard to explain. Whenever I moved, he moved. And whenever I relaxed, he sighed, and at one point even snuggled up to me, burying his nose under my knee. I couldn’t help petting him for such outstanding and affectionate behavior.
The despacho felt like a beautiful dance of spirits, humans, and nature. Of course it helped that we were alone in yet another epic landscape, with a stunning view of the Moon Temple, but far enough removed, not to be scolded by the guards for littering the place with random despacho ingredients. It also helped that the sun was warming us, the wind was playing with our hair, we could hear birds singing and we were smelling the cloudy fumes of the wooden Palo Santo sticks Don Hernan was burning in a ceramic pot.
He explained the meaning of the ritual to us with a surprising, heartfelt, and poetic passion, that was in sharp contrast with his usual quiet and gentle composure. It was all about honoring the planet we live in and knowing that we are a part of something perfect. It’s the humans and the human mind who create most of the problems in the world, but we can learn to live and think more positive and healthier and, in this way, help to improve our world, step by step.
He then formally invited all the elements and mountain spirits to be present in his mother tongue Quechua. We all received a kintu of three coca leaves that we held reverently in our two hands and whisper and sigh our deepest desires and wishes into in prayer style. This would also be an excellent time to let go of old problems and fears, to cleanse ourselves with sacred water and start a new, healthy, and joyful phase in our life. Don Hernan told us that three or seven wishes was an appropriate number. But as there seemed to be ample time for the wishing part, I couldn’t stop wishing extra wishes for all the people I love, far exceeding seven.
While we were praying our Paqo was dressing the despacho (our offering to Mother Earth) with great care. Every act had great significance, from the exact way he folded the paper and the colors he chose to the exact choice of ingredients and their positions on the paper. We all contributed with our kintu’s and small, personal offerings we had brought with us. In this way we all were part of the offering in the most intimate way possible, with our personal prayers and offerings. Later Don Hernan would burn or bury the despacho at his house, because in this location this was no longer allowed to be done.
Our guide dog was slowly awakening when he saw that we were packing our stuff. All this time he had been quiet, his eyes closed, as if he had purposely joined us in our adoration. When he saw the leader of our pack grab his cloth and shake it, it was the first time that he seemed to have a will of his own. He leapt towards the cloth, as if he wanted to lie on it. We all laughed. Don Hernan said: “The dog is saying: what about me? I don’t have a home. At least give me this nice cloth!”
We walked back with each other in great unison, all being much more quiet than normal, as if we were still in a meditative mode. When we arrived at Don Hernan’s car, a younger version of our dog bolted towards our dog with great enthusiasm. Ah! Family! So, no need to adopt our guide dog, although I felt burdened to leave such a great, new friend behind.
Later when I wrote this story and was searching for a title, my first title was Holy Dog, which seemed funny and appropriate to me, but appeared to offend Martin, Clorinda’s son. He explained to me that a dog is one of the lowest creatures in his country and that it seemed blasphemy to him and many Peruvians to even suggest that such a lowly creature could be holy.
I decided to consult Don Hernan about the matter. He smiled about it with tender affection for his fellow countrymen and complimented me with my talent for writing. Dogs are really underappreciated in this country, he agreed with me. Pacha Mama would not have such a harsh judgment about any of her creatures.
“Why don’t you change the title to El Tercer Amigo or The Third Friend?”, he suggested the next day. “We needed a third man in our balance for the despacho, remember?” I marveled at his creativity and sense of poetry. In this way no Peruvian would have to take offense from my title. And yes, our guide dog had been the gentle and unassuming stand in of our missing friend from beginning to end, as if he had been commissioned by Pacha Mama herself.
Originally published on Medium.com on July 6, 2018
https://medium.com/@BarbaraDagmar/cusco-magic-the-third-friend-507b27713a64
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