Amazonian Tubers

In storytelling, foods are some of the best storytellers, and in the Peruvian territory we have an immensity of tales. Summoned by a series of products that speak of identity, tradition and origin, we delved into the Amazon of Yurimaguas, in the department of Loreto. The motivation to learn and the short three-day trip might translate into some impatience to get there. But the long jungle roads give us the first lesson: break free from the rhythms of the city and enjoy the journey. 

A three-hour drive separates Yurimaguas from Tarapoto, where we have arrived first. We are four women with different experiences, sharing a common encounter. The car zigzags over the open asphalt between the curves of the mountains. From time to time the silence is broken by a question addressed to Valeria and Rosa, nutritionists and part of the Mama'Imin team, a project dedicated to preserving traditional Amazonian foods along with two communities of the Shawi Indigenous Peoples, whom Mater has joined mediating this meeting. Mama'Imin means “mother's farm” in Shawi and is led by Dr. Carol Zavaleta. She has been working with this Shawi Indigenous Peoples for years, the necessary time to build bonds of trust with them. By planting seeds of various ancestral tubers, Mama'Imin, and a group of Shawi women, seek ways to mitigate the climatic challenges that affect their environment and put their food security at risk. They also work to ensure that these seeds are not forgotten.

Shortly before seven in the morning, we are on our way to the community of Nuevo Progreso, an hour away from Yurimaguas and home to Shawi families with whom Mama'Imin collaborates. The mothers who have sown the crops and the Shawi assistants are waiting for us to join the tuber harvest. Roots such as the purple sachapapa (yara ma'ma), white (wiri ma'ma), mixed (u'yuwiyu ma'ma), yawira', yu'wira, uyuwan, manshan, and daledale (sha'yu kara) are ready to come out of the ground and let new plantings continue the cycle. This permanence, however, is not always the same, and that is a good thing. Hundreds of years of seed exchanges with other communities may have generated changes in textures, colors, flavors and resilience through natural crossbreeding in the plantings, intertwining inheritances and diversity.

The sun has expanded in the clear sky, we can feel these over thirty degrees of temperature, common during the Amazonian summer. We have arrived at Nuevo Progreso. The community is located next to the road, but that has not changed its inhabitants, who maintain the customs of their ancestors. Offering masato to guests is one of them. Masato is born from a root that extends to a legacy of tradition. Recipes are passed down from mothers to daughters and are learned by doing. In the Amazon, yucca is linked to the people who harvest it, transform it and share it. 

Masato is a fermented beverage made from yuca. The fermentation process often begins by chewing the yuca, but the preparation can vary. In Nuevo Progreso, some women mix yuca with purple sachapapa and mash it instead of chewing it.

Mocahuas filled with the fermented drink come and go. They are clay recipients handmade by Shawi women. On the rims, irregular red and black lines, drawn with natural pigments, speak of everyday life. The intense pinks of some masatos, which combine yuca with purple sachapapa, surprise us. Time and experience are shaping the way of preparing it, chewing the yuca as a fermentation process is no longer the only way. Milder tubers such as sweet potatoes are added to the preparation of this drink, which is now also made by mashing the yuca in the batán. What is not changed is the way it is consumed. They drink it before going to the farm and when returning, when there are guests and when not. At the birth of one life and the end of another. At parties and gatherings. Its value then is understood and it is enjoyed a bit more. 

Yeny Chanchari Huiñapo carries a mocahua. Mocahuas are handmade clay vessels crafted by Shawi women. They are decorated with irregular lines along the edges, painted with natural dyes, and depict everyday events and the natural environment.

The farm is reached by foot. We walk in a line, guided by Isidro Chanchari, who donated half a hectare of land for planting tubers. An act of generosity that we perceive is not his only virtue. With his wife, he raised his children according to the Shawi way of living, transmitting to them the language and ancestral knowledge through daily activities. Isidro is also a vegetalist and possesses the most valued knowledge in his community: to know how to heal. He learned from his grandfather and his father to use the different leaves and barks of his natural environment to treat illnesses such as anemia, digestive problems, colds and to heal wounds. The inevitable encounter between the Amazonian and Western worlds has caused aspirin to mix within the guava leaves, mangua, abuta, casho, lemon and other plants from the bush that Isidro uses to prepare his remedies. But that does not bother him, he knows that the body sometimes needs a little chemistry and a lot of faith.  

Isidro Chanchari, a community elder from Nuevo Progreso and a traditional healer (vegetalista), uses medicinal plants to cure illnesses and heal wounds. The ability to heal is the most valued knowledge in the community.

The skilled hands of the women work the harvest quickly. Their knowledge of the land is evident. They dig, loosen, pull. Potatoes of different sizes and colors emerge.  Roots that evoke the suri, an edible worm that lives in the aguaje palm tree. The large baskets that they carry stretched over their heads are being filled with the tubers. After an hour, the work is finished. It seems short, but the effort of not only that day, but also of the previous months taking care of the sowing, is reflected in the abundance of the harvest. It is time to weigh what has been harvested, which is done on the farm itself using a small scale. The numbers are better than expected. They are surpassed only by the satisfaction reflected in their smiles.

Women are responsible for planting and harvesting potatoes.
Each woman has a plot in the half-hectare field dedicated to growing these tubers.

Sabina Pizango and Norith Pizango carry the harvest in large baskets, handwoven by the men, from tamshi fiber found in the forest. Carrying the baskets on the head is a common practice in the Amazon.

The next morning the scenario is repeated: the car, the road, the trip to the community. This time we head to 10 de Agosto. There, a group of Shawi women also dedicate themselves to keeping the foods of their past alive. We wait at the house of Manuel Pizango, a research assistant at Mama’Imin and a resident of the community. The women arrive. They wear pampanillas, traditional skirts they weave and dye, depicting iconographies of snakes and rivers. As they move, seeds hanging from the lower edge mimic the sound of rain. We see how the mocahuas fill up and we receive the masato again. We feel grateful.

Before heading to the farm, Ariadna Oliveri, a researcher from Mater, shares images of dishes prepared in the restaurant Kjolle, which include purple sachapapas from both communities. We don’t speak the same language but we understand what they are saying among themselves. It is translated by the gestures of surprise and wide-open eyes. Accustomed only to boiling the tuber, these other possibilities awaken their curiosity. Ariadna promises a time to cook and an exchange of recipes after the harvest.

Ariadna Oliveri, a Mater researcher, shows Shawi women images of dishes made at Kjolle restaurant using Amazonian tubers.

The leaves that were plucked during the harvest remain scattered in the field. The tubers have been piled according to the type and plot from which they come. Here, too,  production has been good. Norith Pizango, an artisan and farmer, says she didn’t expect so much. That her mother and grandmother taught her to cultivate these edible roots. She says she learned from them the value of planting her own food. In her farm, she has different tubers, but she dreams of diversity. Norith wants a garden similar to a pantry. Without saying it, she speaks of food security and sovereignty.

Norith Pizango learned from her mother and grandmother about the importance of growing her own food for food security. She grows tubers on her plot and hopes to plant vegetables to diversify her family's diet.

On the table in Rogelia Pizango's kitchen (Manuel Pizango’s wife), a variety of ingredients are displayed: the day's harvest, accompanied by coconut, sachaculantro, cidra, chilies, and bombonaje leaves. Expectations rise as the women group around Ariadna. As has been recurrent on the trip, there is dialogue without words. The ingredients they are used to are transformed. So much so that they seem new. Potatoes in patarashca, warm root salads, dressings with coconut water, and crunchy tuber chips open an interesting panorama. A number of curious neighbors have joined the group of women, entering the kitchen unnoticed, attracted by the novelty. The masato is passed from hand to hand. A familiar scene unfolds, with people cooking and sharing. Suddenly, the cultural differences begin to fade.

During a cooking gathering, Ariadna Oliveri shared with Norith Pizango Yumi, Carlota Mapuchi Tangoa and Senaida Torres Mapuchi different ways to prepare traditional Amazonian ingredients, offering the women new possibilities beyond their usual practice of simply boiling them.

As is often the case, days are short when what there is to learn seems endless. However, this exchange of stories and knowledge opened up new perspectives for all of us. Once again, food became the vehicle that connects us with something much more vast. We close this trip with countless reasons to return, and a horizon that promises even more to explore.

Warm salad of tubers, roots, and sachaculantro.

Raw salad of daledale, sachaculantro and cidra.