Wi�ayhuayna (“forever young”): the last setting-off point before Machu Picchu. A hubbub of hikers, porters and guides, the campsite was laden with tents pitched at different levels of the mountainside. Smelly adventurers with four days� worth of sweat lined up to wash at the restaurant-slash-bar, the only building with warm water, or any modern convenience for that matter, since we embarked on the Inka Trail.
It was a cool night. The 20-something hikers of our group waited impatiently outside the restaurant for William, our chief tour guide, to start the ceremony. A short man with a permanent good-natured but sardonic look on his face, he�d called us there to formally thank the porters, local men whose job on the trail included carrying tents, chairs, utensils, food, etcetera, as well as cooking meals and cleaning dishes, plus whatever other essentials were necessary on the trip.
Before long, the porters began to group in front of us, all thirty-one of them. It was the first time we�d seen them together at once. Of course we�d had the experience of walking beside them up the mountainsides as they carried packs many times larger than ours, and at that, much faster than we ever could�ve managed. We`d commented on how they only wore thin sandals for those hikes. We�d also realized how incredibly nice and supportive they�d been throughout those four days, and so we rightfully understood the importance of saying “thank you.”
But that moment was the first time that I could place a veritable face on the porters. There they were, some as old as fifty, others in their early twenties, some looking a bit abashed, others with the comfort of having been through countless ceremonies like this one before.
The tourists on one side, the porters on the other, it was impossible to not notice the contrast. The porters deal with long absences from home and health problems for their work. The trip never gets easy. And knowing that the Inka Trail was just a pastime for me left me feeling ashamed and inadequate in front of them.
One by one, William introduced the porters and their duties on the trip, sometimes a biographical detail. Children, grandchildren. Years on the trail.
Us hikers also, one by one, offered our personal “thank yous”.
The biggest take-away for me was that the porters aren�t to be pitied at all for their work. Moreover, they should be respected because they work a hell of a lot harder than I could ever imagine.
I can extend this mentality. Treating foreigners with a common United States mentality that we`re coming to somehow �save the day,� educate, etcetera, is really problematic. People deserve so much more than that.
Location: Cuzco, Peru
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Ricky it is interesting to see how your perspective about life had change. Specially when you compare two different cultures. One consider third world culture against the vast American Culture. Yes very different… poverty overthere in South America is overwelming, but there are very much profound values in people and a sense of belonging, and pride of the little or much that they acomplish every day. As you say you shouln’t feel pettiful for those porters because they feel pride on what they do, yes it is a hard job but they make the moey to support their family with their hard work not like here that people just run to Social services and their problem is resolved. Where is the pride? Those are the values that we try to teach you, not only you but to your brothers too.