
10 MIN.
Amazonian Tubers
The roots that the indigenous Shawi people seek to preserve.
Macarena Tabja
By telling stories, food is some of the best narrators, and in Peruvian territory we have an abundance of tales. Called by a series of products that speak of identity, tradition, and origin, we delve into the Amazon of Yurimaguas, in the department of Loreto. The motivation to learn and the brief three days of the trip may translate into some impatience to arrive. But the long roads of the jungle give us the first lesson: to free ourselves from the rhythms of the city and enjoy the journey.
Three hours of road separate Yurimaguas from Tarapoto, where we have arrived first. We are four women with different experiences, sharing a common encounter. We travel in a car that zigzags over the asphalt opened between the curves of the mountains. From time to time the silence is broken with a question directed to Valeria and Rosa, nutritionists and part of the Mama’Imin team, a project dedicated to preserving traditional Amazonian foods alongside two communities of the Shawi Indigenous People, which Mater has joined in mediating this meeting. Mama’Imin means "mother's farm" in Shawi and is led by Dr. Carol Zavaleta. She has years of work with the Shawi Indigenous Peoples, the necessary time to build trust with them. From the planting of seeds of various ancestral tubers, Mama’Imin, together with a group of Shawi women, seeks ways to mitigate the climatic challenges that affect their environment and put their food security at risk. They also work to ensure that they do not fall into oblivion.


The purple sachapapa and uyuwan are ancestral foods and part of the diet of Amazonian Indigenous Peoples like the Shawi, who seek to preserve them through cultivation and consumption.
Just before seven in the morning, we head to the Nuevo Progreso community, an hour away from Yurimaguas, where Shawi families with whom Mama’Imin collaborates live. The mothers who have planted and the Shawi assistants await us to accompany the harvesting of the tubers. Roots like purple sachapapa (yara ma'ma), white (wiri ma'ma), mixed (u'yuwiyu ma'ma), yawira', yu'wira, uyuwan, manshan, and dale dale (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 good. Hundreds of years of seed exchange with other communities have possibly generated changes in textures, colors, flavors, and resilience through natural crossings in the plantings, weaving together heritage and diversity.
The sun has expanded in the clear sky; we can feel the more than thirty degrees of temperature, typical during the Amazonian summer. We have arrived at Nuevo Progreso. The community is located next to the path, but that has not changed its inhabitants, who maintain the customs of their ancestors. Offering masato to guests is one of them. Masato comes from a root that extends to a legacy of tradition. Recipes are passed down from mothers to daughters and learned by doing. In the Amazon, cassava is linked to those who harvest, transform, and share it.

Masato is a fermented drink made from cassava. Traditionally, cassava is chewed to begin fermentation, but the preparation can vary. In Nuevo Progreso, some women mix cassava with purple sachapapa and crush it instead of chewing it.
The mocahuas come and go, filled with the fermented drink. They are handmade clay vessels made by Shawi women. On the edges, irregular red and black lines, traced with natural pigments, speak of everyday life. The intense pinks of some masatos that combine cassava with purple sachapapa surprise us. Time and experiences shape the way it is prepared; chewing the cassava as a fermentation process is no longer the only way. Sweeter tubers like sweet potatoes are added to the preparation of this drink, which is now also made by crushing cassava in the batán. What remains is the consumption. It is drunk before going to the farm and upon returning, whether there are guests or not. At the beginning of one life and the end of another. Its value is understood then and enjoyed a little more.

Yeny Chanchari Huiñapi holding a mocahua. Mocahuas are handmade clay vessels made by Shawi women. They are decorated with irregular lines on the edges, painted with natural dyes that narrate everyday events and the natural environment.
The farm is reached on foot. We walk in a line, following the steps of Isidro Chanchari, who gave up half a hectare of land for the planting of tubers. An act of generosity that we perceive is not his only virtue. Along with his wife, he raised his children according to the Shawi way of life, transmitting to them the language and ancestral knowledge through daily activities. Isidro is also a herbalist and possesses the most valued knowledge in his community: the knowledge of healing. He learned from his grandfather and father how to use various leaves and barks from his natural environment to treat diseases such as anemia, digestive symptoms, colds, and to heal wounds. The inevitable encounter between the Amazonian and the Western world has caused aspirin to mix with guava leaves, mangua, abuta, casho, lemon, and other plants from the forest that Isidro uses to prepare his remedies. But that does not bother him; he knows that the body sometimes needs a bit of chemistry and a lot of faith.

Isidro Chanchari is a wise man from Nuevo Progreso and also a herbalist. He uses medicinal plants to heal diseases and wounds. The knowledge of healing is the most valued knowledge in the community.
The skilled hands of the women work quickly during the harvest. The knowledge they have of the land is evident. They dig, loosen, pull. Potatoes of different sizes and colors begin to appear. Roots that evoke the suri, an edible worm that lives in the aguaje palm. The wide baskets they carry stretched over their heads fill with tubers. After an hour, the work is finished. It seems little, but the effort not only of that day but also of the previous months caring for the planting is reflected in the abundance of the harvest. It is time to weigh the harvest; it is done in the same farm, with a small scale. The numbers are better than expected. Only their laughter reflects greater satisfaction.

The women are those who work on the planting and harvesting of the potatoes. Each one has a plot in the half-hectare farm dedicated to the production of tubers.

Sabina Pizango and Norith Pizango transport the harvest in large baskets hand-woven by men with tamshi fiber, which is found in the forest. The way to carry them hung over the head is common in the Amazon.
The next morning, the scene repeats itself: the car, the path, 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 home of Manuel Pizango, a research assistant at Mama’Imin and a resident of the community. The women arrive. They wear pampanillas, traditional skirts that they weave and dye, depicting iconographies of snakes and rivers. When they move, the seeds that hang from the lower edge imitate 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 made at the Kjolle restaurant, which include purple sachapapas from both communities. We do not speak the same language, but we understand what they say to each other. The gestures of surprise and wide-open eyes translate it. Used to only boiling the tuber, these new possibilities awaken their curiosity. Ariadna promises a moment to cook and an exchange of recipes upon returning from the harvest.


Ariadna Oliveri, a researcher from Mater, shows women from the Shawi community images of dishes made at the Kjolle restaurant with Amazonian tubers.
The leaves that were pulled during the harvest remain scattered in the field. The tubers have been piled according to the type and plot they come from. Here the production has also been good. Norith Pizango, a craftswoman and farmer, says that she did not expect so much. That her mother and grandmother taught her to cultivate these edible roots. She says that she learned from them the value of growing her own food. In her farm, she has different tubers, but she dreams of diversity. She wants a garden like a pantry. She does not say it, but 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. In her farm, tubers grow, and she hopes to plant vegetables so that her and her family's diet is varied.
On the table in the kitchen of Rogelia Pizango, the wife of Manuel Pizango, a variety of ingredients is spread out: the harvest of the day, accompanied by coconut, sachaculantro, cidra, chili peppers, and bombonaje leaves. There are expectations as the women gather around Ariadna. As has been recurrent during the trip, communication happens without words. The ingredients they are accustomed to begin to transform. So much so that they seem new. Potatoes in patarashca, warm salads of roots, dressings with coconut water, and crunchy tubers open up an interesting panorama. A number of curious neighbors have joined the group of women, having entered the kitchen unnoticed, drawn by the novelty. The masato passes from hand to hand. A familiar scene begins to take shape, with people cooking and sharing, suddenly, cultural differences start to fade away.

With a cooking encounter, Ariadna Oliveri shares with Norith Pizango Yumi, Carlota Mapuchi Tangoa, and Senaida Torres Mapuchi different ways of cooking traditional Amazonian ingredients. Other cooking possibilities were opened for the women, who are used to only boiling them.
As often happens, days feel short when there is so much to learn ahead. However, this exchange of stories and knowledge opened new perspectives for all of us. Once again, food became the vehicle that connects us to something much broader. We closed the trip with countless reasons to return, and with a horizon that promises even more to explore.

Warm salad of tubers, roots, and sachaculantro.
