Revolutions

37 - Walumaq

In the embrace of the morning, I become unified with Pachil. Pressed against the earth, my hands sense its rhythmic pulse, a steady heartbeat coursing beneath my palms. A cool mist brushes my skin, a gentle breeze weaves through the air and swirls around me. Though the nearest water source is a modest brook, I remain bound to it, as I am to all the elements of this land. There's a profound sense of interconnectedness, a knowing that I am part of something far greater than my singular self.

Amidst the ritual, I feel a presence of someone approaching, awakening me from my meditation. Paxilche holds a tan gourd, struggling to carry it over to me, his face serious as he focuses on not spilling its contents. I stifle a chuckle as I watch him walk with such care and caution, hardly looking up to see where he's stepping and, instead, maintaining his concentration entirely on the vessel.

"I... brought you..." he says, pausing his statement to gently set the gourd down before continuing, "this herbal infusion. Apologies for interrupting." His face filled with pride for not wasting a drop, placing his hands on his hips as he admires his work. Looking inside the container, I only see a dark liquid with a light steam curling above it.

"What's in your 'herbal infusion?'" I ask, curious as to what, if anything, has been done to it.

Still beaming, he says, "muña with some matico I discovered nearby." Though I've never heard of either, there is a pungent aroma of invigorating and refreshing mint with a subtle undertone of warm, woody notes reminiscent of a forest floor after a fresh rain. A peculiar combination, yet intriguing nonetheless, so I lift up the gourd and take a sip. I'm immediately revitalized as the warm liquid courses through me, and I'm pleasantly surprised at his concoction.

Pleased with himself, he picks up the gourd and says after he sips some for himself, "I'm humbled that you like it. It's not something I'm apt at making, being honest, so I had to take some liberties with the ingredients. The Qiapu typically drink an herbal infusion for special ceremonies, but I figured it would bring us all good fortune in our endeavors if we had some before parting ways." If I didn't know better, it feels as though this was made as an offering to me. Though I may be conflating things, the way he bows and hardly looks me in my eyes, I can't help but suspect that, perhaps, he views me as a deity, some goddess on earth based on what occurred yesterday. Or maybe he is just this sincere and polite.

I pick myself up off the ground and take in the scenic view one last time before we make our way over to the camp, trekking down the small hill by the tiny stream. Having traveled through it for a number of days now, I find the Tapeu landscape fascinating and captivating, being nothing like that on Sanqo. A creek casually makes its way through the hills that roll seamlessly into one another, with occasional patches of trees in faded greens among an otherwise vast field of golden grasses. All of the colors are muted as though they don't want to impose themselves upon the view, with creatures occasionally stirring in the grasslands.

As I enter the camp, two men have gathered to meet with Paxilche and me while other Qiapu warriors stand off a ways from the area, preparing themselves for the northward trek. One is Qumuna, the well-respected leader, standing stoically as we approach. The other is introduced to us as Pomaqli, a sturdy and muscularly built man appearing to be roughly the same age as Qumuna, with his toned and heavily tattooed arms crossed, wearing much simpler garments than his well-decorated leader. Instead, he has on an off-white tunic with subtle red embellishments, and numerous pouches and sheaths suspended on belts and harnesses around his waist and torso. His face, expressing a sense of calm and confidence, is marked with countless silver piercings around his ears, nose, and lip, and has dark brown hair cut short, allowing a couple scars to be made visible along the sides of his head. The most notable feature, though, is his jaw and chin below his lower lip is tattooed entirely black. As I bow to greet him, Pomaqli, too, bows deeply, his eyes maintaining their intense gaze as he returns to an upright position.