Pishtacos Explained

Disembarking was going to be the half way point in my travel day. I was feeling a little pressure because my entry stamp was about to expire . . . but I am a long way from the border - any border with Peru. I did not want to go to Lima for a renewal. I was pretty sure there were only minor fines involved with an overstay . . . but I was told about those nearly 3 months ago. I asked about my entry stamp at the Satipo tourist office but seeing how they get no tourism they were not much help. I loaded my bike in the back of the ubiquitous Toyota Corolla station wagon taxi with 8 other people (4 front, 4 back) and made my way to San Francisco. I reassembled my bike and load in the street and wended my way to the part of town with transportation companies. Almost immediately a young man asked if I was going to Ayacucho? He had a nice Toyota Hi-Lux (made in Argentina), the price was a standard 50 soles, he left in 30 minutes, limited to 4 passengers, and I got the front seat . . . deal. I ate a quick menu, washed up in a bathroom and we were off. This was my first extended vehicle ride, outside of boats on the trip - I regretted not riding back up to the highlands but then again I had business to take care of and if all went well I would have plenty of riding to do through the rest of Peru. And my bike and I had not been this comfy in a long while for the 5 hour ride.
The road was in good shape but narrow as it climbed up back up onto the plateau for 8-9000 feet. Occasional fog dropped visibility to nil but was generally passing and the chance for conversation in a comfortable seat was welcomed. I answered a lot of questions about my trip, personal life, women, and life in the United States, as well as my perceptions of other countries I had passed through.
Initially, conversing with the driver made me a little nervous because I did not want to distract him from his task at hand. But turns out he did this 8 hour round trip at least 5 days a week. He and another passenger would comment on what turns were next, time to the next town, how many switch backs to a summit - I was in good hands.

I took the opportunity to ask about pishtacos . . . peopled wondered if I was a pishtaco? That very day on the river the term had come up in conversation with the woman who wanted to give me her pretty daughter. Some people are seriously scared of me and I wanted to know what the hell this pishtaco thing is? Over the course of 20+ years of traveling through remote areas of the Andes children have run from me screaming, whole communities hide, people lock themselves in their homes, peopled have trembled at my approach, people run off the road to wait for me to pass. So I asked, "what is a Pishtaco and do they exist"? Everyone emphatically said yes pishtacos can be a problem. In fact, there was a pishtaco in the area recently but they killed him . . . well, good to know that was taken care of . . . shit. I had gathered that a pishtaco was a tall, thin, white man. I never think of myself as tall but I am in the Andes and people are short. A pishtaco is a supernatural to, at least, degenerate being that kills people to drain their fat or steal organs (sometimes to eat). An Andean version of the vampire myth that is reproduced across the globe - but no one is making cute teen angsty movies about pishtacos. The pishtaco myth is used to keep children close to home. Definite cultural factors play into this myth. The Inca valued fat and had a deity dedicated to fat. Fatness is also considered a sign of good health. The Spaniard practice of dressing their wounds on the battlefield with the fat of the enemy dead mortified the Andean people possibly giving rise to the myth of the pishtaco. Pishtay means to slice or behead in Quechua and a lot of Andeans died those deaths. A quick You Tube search churns out a bundle of videos.

I liked this one for it Chaplin-esque approach but it is parodying the myth - reflecting an urban response I receive from people with a degree of education. However, the myth is deeply rooted and sincerely believed - enough so that I discontinued cleaning my nails with my particularly wicked looking lock back knife . . . unless I really wanted to left alone. The current versions of the myth are centered around the current relationship between the developed world (United States particularly) and undeveloped Peru (a Peruvian obsession). Recent variants common to my experience are: 1. organs are harvested for the international market 2. fat is harvested to start jet airplane engines 3. fat is used to lubricate machines. I have been asked, "how much does a liter of human fat cost in the United States?," when two seconds earlier we were discussing gold prices! However, this myth has even hindered food aid programs due to worries that their children were being fattened for slaughter . . . Shamefully, the Peruvian National Police used the pishtaco myth to explain a rash of disappearances in the Huanuco region in 2009, but that explains my reception in some remote areas of Huanuco. (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/nov/20/peru-gang-killing-human-fat) The next video is entirely in Spanish from a region of the high selva I passed through - despite what language barrier may exist listen to her conviction.

The ride to Ayacucho was pleasant and we quickly left the pishtaco question behind - after they straightened me out and let me know that pishtacos could be taken care of. I arrived late into Ayacucho - a city I had stayed in for a month once and knew well - but now it was paved and well lit presenting little danger of pishtacos.