Triad Gods of The Incas

Wiraqocha

Travelling through the lands where the Incas once lived, it’s hard not to marvel at their craftsmanship when it came to building fortresses and cities out of large blocks of stone. But what has intrigued me most about the Incas is the wonderful myths, legends, and beliefs that powered this captivating civilization.

My last book, Vestige, had a lot of Incan theology in it, and every time I did research, I would come across conflicting versions of gods, descriptions of their appearances, and purpose. Rarely were two descriptions ever the same, and this is to do with the Incas adapting their religion as their world expanded. Once the Spanish arrived, the Incas’ belief that they were the only people in existence had to change, and as a result, their beliefs were challenged. 

The Triad Gods were among the Incas’ most revered and they were worshipped at places like Qoricancha, Cuzco’s main temple. These multi faceted celestial beings had overlapping powers, and even though they were worshipped at the same time, some received more attention than others.

Wiraqocha – The Creator:

Sometimes known as Viracocha, the Incas held this god in the highest esteem. The Incas didn’t make sacrifices or tributes to Wiraqocha, creator of all things, as he had everything he wanted in his possession and needed nothing from men other than their worship. Wiraqocha created the sun and moon, and the people who populated the earth.

When Wiraqocha appeared in human form, he had rays above his head, snakes entwined around his arms, and puma heads projecting from his body. An excellent example of his image is the central figure on the Gate of the Sun at Tiwanaku, in Bolivia.

Inti – The Sun:

The Incas held numerous ceremonies dedicated to Inti, the patron saint of their empire, to ensure the emperor’s welfare as well as encourage bountiful harvests. Every province had land and herds dedicated to the Sun God, and the church had its own storehouses that kept supplies for the priests and priestesses and also for sacrifices.

By 1532, Inti had risen in popularity and by that point, Inti beat all the other gods combined hands down in terms of dedicated worship and monuments. Inca rulers claimed direct genealogical links to the Creator through the Sun, as the Creator fathered Inti, who in turn sired the king.

Inti

Inti was represented in a golden statue, depicting a small boy sitting down. Called Punchao (day), this effigy had solar rays projecting from his head and shoulders, ear spools, a chest plate, and royal headband. Serpents and lions also grew from his body. To the Incas, Punchao bridged the gap between humanity and the sun, and when rulers died, their organs were placed in the hollow stomach of the statue, which they then housed in the main temple and brought out onto the patio during the day before returning indoors at night.

Inti-llapa – The Thunder God:

This god of thunder, lightning, rainbows, and every other meteorological phenomena was depicted as a human man who wielded a war club in one hand and a sling in the other. When the people heard thunder, they believed it was Inti-llapa cracking his sling, and the lightning was a glittering flash off his metal garments as he moved through the heavens. Lightning bolts were the sling stones that he cast, and the Milky Way was the heavenly river from which he drew the rainfall. His image, Chucuylla, was kept in a temple called Pukamarka, in the Chinchaysuyu quarter of Cuzco, which also held an image of the Creator God. When the Incas needed rain, they prayed to Inti-llapa.

The belief system of the Incas is wide and varied, and even though they couldn’t see their gods in the flesh, their faith in their gods’ existence helped grow an expansive and fascinating empire across South America. 

Even though the great Incan civilization disappeared many, many years ago, the monuments they left behind and the writings of the Spanish Chronicles help us to understand what they believed in. Supernatural gods with amazing powers were the norm, and even though the Spanish conquerors tried to convert the Incas to Catholicism, they held on to their supernatural gods to help them through their changing world and challenging times.

Telling It Like It Was

Photo by D.Hatcher

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been fascinated with myths, especially ones involving animals. Many cultures, both ancient and present-day, use animals in their story-telling to either get a message across or help explain the way their world works. Kids, especially, seem drawn to these tales. 

As a young girl, I would spend hours in the library poring over picture books, and later, archaeology tomes that delved into mythology from around the world. So when I sat down to write Vestige, it came as no surprise I wanted to weave in some Incan legends, including ones that contained animals. I could bore you stupid with the folklore I’ve studied, but I promise I won’t and will limit this post to two—one myth from Central America and the other from the Andes. Well, maybe I’ll squeeze in a quick one to make it three—let’s briefly go to Brazil as well.

Central America:

In Mesoamerican legends, the resplendent quetzal is a bird associated with the snake god of creation and wind, Qutzalcoatl (try saying that ten times in a row). The Mayans and Aztecs believed the bird represented goodness and light and the rulers of these civilizations wore head dresses with the feathers from the quetzal. By donning this bird’s feathers, they felt a connection with the god Qutzalcoatl. The bird was so revered, it was forbidden to kill it, so the lackeys would capture and pluck its feathers then set it free. 

The quetzal was thought to be unable to survive in captivity, so it came to represent liberty for those in Mexico, Guatemala, Costa Rica, and El Salvador. Until twenty years ago no one had been able to keep the species alive or breed it in captivity. In the past, whenever a quetzal was captured and put in a cage, it would somehow kill itself through starvation or ramming against the enclosure. But a zoo in Mexico has been able to breed the species on a continual basis since 1992.

In Guatemala, the bird has been associated with the warrior prince Tecún Umán of the Quiché Maya. This bird was the prince’s nahaul (spirit guide). Legend has it that one day, the Spanish Conquistador, Pedro de Alvarado, rode in on horseback, and, Tecún Umán, who was on foot. When Alvarado delivered a spear to Tecún Umán’s chest, a quetzal landed on the spot from where the warrior prince bled and dipped its chest feathers into his blood. The Mayans believe this is how the quetzal received its distinctive red chest feathers.

Another legend tied to the Spaniards is that prior to its arrival in Central America, the quetzal had a beautiful singing voice. But at the time of the Spanish conquest, it fell silent. Many Central Americans believe that one day the quetzal will find its voice, but only when their land is truly free. 

Photo by Rick Swarts

The Andes:

The Aymara- and Quechua-speaking people of Bolivia and Peru believe that there were once two, superimposed worlds. The lower world had countless herds of healthy, long-haired alpacas that belonged to the mountain god Apu and were tended by his daughter. The upper world contained alpacas of inferior quality.

Apu’s daughter had problems protecting his precious alpacas from predators, so Apu arranged for her to marry a young herdsman from the upper world. For a while, their union was successful, but the herdsman grew homesick and so the daughter and her husband decided to take their healthy flock to the upper world. Apu agreed but only under the condition that the daughter and her husband take special care of his precious herds, especially his prized possession—a particular baby alpaca. They started their journey, travelling alongside springs and lakes. The baby always wanted to be carried but the husband became lazy, and one day he dropped it to the ground and left it to fend for itself. Apu’s daughter became frightened and ran to the nearest spring, diving in and swimming back to the lower world. Many alpacas tried to follow her, but the herdsman prevented them from doing so. Ever since, the alpacas of the upper world have stayed near lakes and springs, waiting for their mistress who has yet to return.

Brazil:

The Cobra Encantada is a beautiful woman who turns into a vicious snake to guard an immense treasure. Whoever can break the spell will have the gold and marry the maiden. I’m not so sure Disney will like this one for the next movie--it might freak out the little kids.

For thousands of years, humans and animals have been connected. There’s no wonder we want to include animals in our folklore also. Take a look at the advertisements for kid’s products or the popularity of shows such as the Care Bears (showing my age, now) or Big Bird on Sesame Street. Animals are used in many forms to gain attention, especially from the little people, and deliver a message. The wheel, penicillin, and technology may have changed the way we do some things, but others have remained the same—we still use animals in our story-telling.

Dreams And Goals And Inspirations, Oh My!

The start of a new year has always excited me. It’s a chance to reflect, make lists (I’m a Virgo, it’s what we do!), and plan for the future. I gave up making resolutions years ago. Instead, I prefer to set goals—ones that push me beyond limits I hadn’t even imagined. I’ve never had a problem with dreaming big, and I’ve been lucky enough to have fulfilled some of those dreams already. But with every dream or goal accomplished, I usually have another three tucked away, ready to work towards. 2011 is no different.

Right now, Vestige is ready to go out on submission to publishing professionals. I’m looking forward to sharing this book and have fingers, toes, and eyes crossed it will appeal to many people. I’ve already started on my next book, a mystery set around the time the Tango was first invented. But rather than bore you with a laundry list of personal goals, I thought I’d share an insight as to how a germ of an idea can inspire me to write an entire book.

I’ve spent years collecting facts and myths about everything related to Latin America. Sometimes when I’m stuck, I pull out my list and voila, the inspiration hits me and off I go. When I worked in tourism, I had a list of “must see and do” things for my clients, and we used it as a jumping off point for planning their dream vacations.

So here’s Alli’s list of ideas that I may use in the future to inspire me when I’m looking for to write a story (and no, I don’t have a problem sharing because even if two or more writers wrote about the same thing, the stories will always be different):

Bolivia: It’s been rumoured that the ancient city of Atlantis is buried at the bottom of the inland sea of Lake Poopo, high in the Bolivian Antiplano. A cartographer discovered a rectangular-shaped plain lying beneath this lake and he believes (and has convinced others) that Atlantis was built on a small, volcanic island. According to Plato, the whole region of Atlantis was raised above the ocean and many now feel the plain in Bolivia fits these characteristics perfectly.

Much of Latin America: The chupacabra, a “goat sucker” is an animal that systematically prowls on farm animals and kills them by drinking their blood. One of the favourite animals it preys on is—you’ve guessed it—goats. Descriptions vary as to what the creature looks like, but people have reported it as the size a small bear, with a row of spines reaching from the neck to the base of the tail. It’s skin is a scaly greenish-gray and stands and hops in a similar manner to a kangaroo. Some people have said when the chupacabra screeches, their eyes glow red and witnesses report feeling nauseous.

Mesoamerica: The Nagual (or Nahual) is a human being who has the power to turn into an animal—most commonly donkeys, turkeys, and dogs. But it can also take the form of more powerful animals such as a jaguar or puma. A Nagual can use their powers for good or evil, depending on their wishes. The Nagual is linked to pre-Columbian shamanistic practises and the date a person is born can have an impact as to whether a person becomes a Nagual. The modern-day equivalent is a shape shifter. 

To say I’m excited about this year is an understatement. I have a new book that’s ready to send out, another one I’m working on, a conference to organise (RWA Australia) and a lot of new things to learn about my craft. Bring it on, 2011!

What’s in store for you this year? What are your goals? Aspirations? Inspirations?

Where The Wild Things Are

In the opening scene of my novel, Vestige, Tess Garibaldi stumbles through the Amazon with an enigmatic and oh-so-sexy guide at her side. Nature forces her to confront a myriad of challenges, but she pushes on, shedding her city-girl persona and transforming into an Indiana Jones in heels. 

The old adage “write what you know” comes in handy when creating the types of stories I write. I can pull from my travel experiences, face my own phobias (from a safe distance), and relive thrilling adventures. Not only does doing this make my settings more authentic, it brings back memories of favorite places I’ve travelled to. And one that is on my top five list is Manu National Park, in Peru.

Manu National Park is situated north of the tourist capital of Cuzco (the stepping-off point for trips to Machu Picchu). A recognized UNESCO World Heritage Site, Manu covers an area of 18,811 square kilometres (11,688 square miles). According to scientists, the park has over 15,000 species of plants, and up to 250 varieties of trees can be found in every hectare. Birdwatchers from all over the world travel to Manu to study the 1,000 plus species of birds. The only humans allowed to permanently live in the park are those in the “cultural zone”—several small tribal communities of the Matsigenga Amazonian group. The centre of the park is restricted to scientific and educational professionals who are invited by the indigenous communities. 

When I lived in Cuzco, I had the chance to join a tour at the last minute. Individuals aren’t allowed into the restricted areas unless they are with a certified tour group, so I filled the final spot, packed my bags, and jumped on a bus. We bounced in and out of potholes along narrow roads that hugged the mountainside. I did my best not to gaze into the bottomless canyons only a few feet from where I sat, gripping my seat of the speeding bus. Along the way we visited a cluster of Chullpas—burial chambers that date back to pre-Inca times. Plunging into the swirling mist of the cloud forest, we eventually arrived at a river and transferred by dug-out canoe to arrive at Manu National Park proper.

For ten days, we paddled, walked, climbed, and swam. Nights were full of strange bird calls and howler monkeys screeching overhead. More than once I heard rustling and sniffing outside my tent. And unlike my heroine, Tess, I did not leave the tent to investigate. One of the most memorable mornings started off with our usual early rise (when monkeys chatter above your tent at five in the morning there’s not much choice, really) and a visit to the Macaw Salt Lick. Travelling by boat, we sat underneath a camouflage and stared in awe at the wall of red, blue, yellow, orange and green feathered friends perched happily on the high banks of the river, licking salt from the clay walls. The only place in the world this happens is in the western Amazon where the birds can fill their dietary need for salt.

Our travels took us to Oxbow Lake and our search for the Giant Otter. Once close to extinction, the otters are the world’s largest fresh-water carnivores and are now only found in Manu. Paddling quietly along the lake, my eyes strained to find the tiniest ripple or air bubble on the surface to indicate an otter was nearby. Just as I had given up hope, I spotted one sitting on a fallen log, eating a huge fish. Oblivious to our presence, the otter devoured its meal, slid into the water and dived under, disappearing from view but forever etched in my memory. 

I braved tarantulas (I can’t even begin to tell you how arachnophobic I am), avoided fire ants, got bitten from head to toe by invisible insects and endured heat so intense it makes me sweat thinking about it now. But I survived. And I loved every second of it. Would I do it again? Absolutely! I’ve been to many jungles in the world now, but I’ll never forget my first love, Manu National Park.

So when my heroine Tess is swinging from vines and crossing treacherous rivers, I imagine being in her shoes. The rotting undergrowth makes my nose twitch, the sun burns my skin and I experience the thrill of the unfamiliar, knowing I’ll be a changed person as a result.

Has visiting a particular destination changed you and, if so, how?

The Living Dead

Halloween always brings back fond memories of my time in Peru. It’s not uncommon to find groups of kids dressed in costumes on that day shouting “Halloween, Halloween” (they don’t yell “trick or treat”) and scrounging for goodies. But it’s the two days following Halloween that intrigue me the most. Myths and superstitions abound and it’s these Incan and Peruvian traditions that are the inspiration behind my current novel, Vestige.

The Incas believed ancestral spirits shared the world of the living. Mummified kings and queens were treated as though alive, and were consulted as seers who bore messages from the gods. The descendents of royalty gave the mummies food and drink and took them to visit other mummies, linking the worlds of past and present.

Sharing the cosmos with the living and dead were the gods and spirits of the landscape. Mountain peaks, rocky outcrops and springs represented ancestors and guardian spirits. Many festivals were held in their honor, with the hope the living would receive their blessings for a bountiful harvest. And for the buried ancestors, it was usual for the graves to have built-in conduits so libations could be offered easily.

Steeped in history and religion, modern-day Peru is constantly blending the old and the new. Cuzco is a classic example. Downtown is a labyrinth of cobblestoned streets and centuries old buildings containing Internet cafes and bars. Buses and cars zoom past immaculate post-Colombian architecture built on Incan foundations. Modern holidays are observed, but ancient traditions are also celebrated.

My favorite holidays are held the first two days of November. Nationally, All Saints Day is followed by All Souls Day, but in Cuzco, there is a slight variation. November 1 is Día de Todos los Santos Vivos (Day of the Living Saints) and is celebrated with delectable delights such as tantawawa (breads shaped in the figures of babies and horses), lechon (roast suckling pig), sugar cane, and chicha (fermented maize that can have the saliva of the makers in it – yes, it seriously can). This momentous day is quickly followed by Día de los Santos Difuntos (Day of the Deceased Saints) when families honor their ancestors with visits to their burial grounds.

I was lucky enough to experience Día de los Santos Difuntos at the invitation of a colleague of mine who grew up in Cuzco. We bought flowers at the stall next to the cemetery and made our way into the grounds. Hundreds of people milled around the walls that contained 2-foot-by-1.5- foot niches representing their relatives’ final resting places. In Peru, when a person dies they are only buried in the ground for ten years, then dug up and cremated with the ashes being placed in the wall at the cemetery. For the wealthy, though, the ashes are put in marble tombs that are big enough to contain the whole family.

The niches for the deceased had spaces large enough for each family to make a diorama within them. Inside the glass enclosures were figurines, paintings, and photos that signified the ancestor’s life. For example, if the deceased was a football fan, football paraphernalia might adorn the space. A musician may have a CD of their favorite music or a miniature of the instrument they played. The attention and creativity that goes into creating these dioramas are a testament to the adoration the families have for the deceased person.

Coming from a country where death is a reverent affair, it was hard to adjust to the celebrations around the cemetery. A band had formed at the cemetery gate and the musicians beat drums and blew trumpets, the tune becoming more discordant as the day wore on and as more alcohol was consumed. Dancing, singing, and storytelling were in abundance and the atmosphere had become electric. Every now and again, a cloud of sadness would float through the crowd, but the general feeling was one of fond remembrance for the loved one.

Although our group didn’t make it through the whole night, family members stayed with their ancestors to greet the new day. When I finally walked away with my friend, my view of death had changed completely. One’s life should be celebrated – whether the person is alive or dead.

What books, movies or experiences have touched upon a superstition or tradition and made you reassess your values or look at life differently?

Ain't No Mountain High Enough - Alli's Story

By the age of 24, I had climbed Mt. Everest, sailed down the Ganges, walked across Australia, and cycled the breadth of Europe – all without raising a sweat or getting out of my armchair. It didn’t take long for me to tire of reading about other peoples’ journeys so I finally got off my butt, enrolled in a mountaineering course, and disappeared into the Himalayas to create my own real-life adventure.

Since then, I’ve been fortunate enough to visit many continents and places I still can’t pronounce. I’ve also swum with sharks in Belize, climbed the highest mountain in the Americas (that would be Aconcagua in Argentina), paddled in remote areas of the Amazon, and ridden a camel through the desert in northern Africa. And I’m only at chapter four.

The more I travel, the more I hear about new destinations I have to visit. My list has grown to such an extent now that I would need five lifetimes to ever see it all. But that’s okay. When I have the urge to travel but can’t, I drag out travel diaries and enjoy the moments when I questioned my sanity, experiencing the lows of traveling solo and the highs of achieving goals I could only have dreamt about.

For me, books and travel have always gone hand in hand. Books fueled my passion for travel and when I travel, I always have a book with me to use as a reference guide or to occupy me during endless hours of getting from A to B. A story-teller from the time I was born, becoming a writer was a natural progression and it made sense to base my stories in the destination of my heart -- South America.

My novel, VESTIGE, is set in Peru and features Tess Garibaldi, a flight attendant turned Indiana Jones in heels. Tess’ past collides with the present when she discovers she’s a Vestige – a reincarnated soul sent to protect civilizations. To stop the deadly powers of an Incan relic, Tess must discover which of the men in her life -- a handsome anthropologist she met in dire circumstances or her dodgy ex-husband with whom she has unfinished business -- is the Incan lover she lost from a past life. Unfortunately, she’s in love with both men, making her choice nearly impossible. But if she doesn’t get it right, she’ll not only lose her soul mate forever, but mankind could perish.

My books always contain elements of history and culture. Perhaps it’s a result of wiling away countless hours talking with archaeologists over beers and Pisco Sours, or from studying South American history when I worked as a tour guide.

When writing, it’s not unusual for me to close my eyes and type a scene, immersing myself in memories of a place. For example, when I remember Plaza de Armas in Cuzco, I can smell the onion cooking on the makeshift carts, hear the babbling tourists and see the astounding architecture that blends the Incan style with that of the Spanish Conquistadors.

Without travel, my heart would be closed. Without writing, I would be a lost soul. The combination of the two things I love the most – travel and writing – are a very big part of who I am.

How about you? What are you passionate about and has it changed you as a person?