Cusco has its own flag. It's a rainbow. Literally, strips of rainbow colours. It's bright and eye catching, and was at first rather misinterpreted by us as being the symbol of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transexual acceptance that it is in the UK. In fact I think anyone of ant sexuality other than heterosexual still struggles for basic rights here, and so it is,quite far from being a symbol of that but I do rather like what it does symbolise, cultural diversity and richness. And what better way to represent that than with colour? Colour has long been a human metaphor for variety, and, except where it pertains to the shade of somebody's skin, has always been a rather positive symbol for difference. Despite the fact that we have, in human history, been really rather bad at seeing difference very positively. It seems we do believe in the concept, but in practice there's a bit more double think than that.
For me, colour really speaks to me of South America. From the bright fabrics of Bolivia, to the enormous range and use of colour here. The artisinal shops sell small tableaux, models of everyday life or nativity scenes, brightly coloured and hugely detailed. A tiny shop keeper sells a myriad of tiny, varied four hats, a tiny tailor sews among tiny hanging, multicoloured fabrics, a tiny artist sells countless bright and imaginative tiny masks. I love these 'retablos', as they are called, and would buy every single one I see, if they weren't, being such exquisite and unique craftsmanship, quite expensive - and a hundred of them might be quite a challenge to carry home.
Other shops sell various sizes of miniature bulls, which are meant to bring luck, hand painted and each colour symbolising something different. One colour is for family, one for academic success, another for love.
In fact the metaphor of Cuscos culture of many colours works in far more ways than this. We visit the 'Museum of Popular Art'. It is filled with small models of a similar, though also very different nature to the Retablos. They vary in size, 'small' in some cases being maybe half a metre square, all figures included. All are unique. All are colourful. Many represent the nativity scene, and these in particular really pull at me, evoking an emotional response which does not, necessarily, happen every time I look at a nativity scene normally. But these are different. They are so widely and so colourfully imagined. All the key elements are there, the baby, the parents, the bed of straw, but otherwise they would be almost unrecognisable as representing the same, well known, scene.
I identify two favourites. In one, the baby Jesus lies at the centre, as usual, but behind him is an entire band of pan pipe, wooden flute and string playing figures, all with a traditional Inca (we might in the UK recognise it as 'Indian') headdress, leather skirts, sandals and a gold coin around their neck in Inca tradition. Mary and Joseph wear traditional costumes and the shepherds and dignatories are there, but offer, not lambs and gold, but husks of corn. It's beautiful because everything that matters remains, all the most important principles, just reimagined into a more familiar world.
The other, which is my absolute favourite, pares the whole scene down to just the basics. Mait with Joseph kneel in the bottom centre, in a small natural indentation in a large, spreading, section of real tree. The baby Jesus beams up in his little nest of straw, and clutches a flower to his chest. The rest of the wood is covered in birds. Birds of all kinds sit around their nests, perch on twigs, preen each other or settle, feathers ruffled, into sleep. Just looking at it makes me feel peaceful. Something that so perfectly captures the manifestation of a deity in a world created by it, and the new beginnings embodied by the entire Jesus story, I have not before seen. I love it. It takes all that familiarity, that loss of wonder that comes from endless repetition of the nativity story, strips it down to its key points, its most important principles, and reimagines it with such difference, and such a deep understanding. It is a nativity image which will stay in my mind for a long time.
In the evening, the colourful nature of Cusco begins to whirl and fly, as we attend an evening if traditional dance. Accompanied live by brightly dressed musicians, the hall is filled with strings and flutes, that specific trilling aspect I have noticed in Andean music, both on the strings and the flutes, and whirling, turning figures in a different, and ever brighter costume for every dance. There are dances in which the men court the women, and dances in which the women court the men, but warn them, marriage is too dull, they want to play and have fun. They do this by hooking their man with a scarf around his neck, alternately leading him brightly, singing about the fun they will have, and dragging it downward so that he has to stoop and drag his feet, as they sing about how they will not be caught in marriage. There are dances in which the men are llamas, and in which the men are birds. There are festival dances, carnival dances and celebration dances. There is a war dance, performed only by the men, in which they take turn to crack the whip at the feet of a single dancer, drawing gasps and 'ouch'es from their audience. No costume lacks colour, no dance its vitality. Everybody seems to be rather enjoying themselves, far from the sense that you might expect sometimes in similar performances, of simply 'going through the motions'.
These are hard, very physically demanding dances, especially for the men, in what must be heavy costumes, but both sexes sing as they do it, the men in an exaggerated manly bass, and the women in unbelievably high voices. The effect is to produce a sort of stylised representation of the attributes of each sex and also, especially given the frequent times in which one or other sex is actually portraying an animal, it makes them seem other worldly, like animals or other creatures outside of common humanity.
Colour is something that, for me, truly characterises Cusco. Long may we embrace colour and diversity in our world. Long may we wear the brights of celebration, and not the greys and blacks of mourning. May our lives be vibrant, and multicoloured. May that rich tapestry be ever changing.,
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