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 Getting Close To The Myth Of El Paititi |
The river runs crazy and we drag the canoe with all supplies through the rapids. I feel lost in the enormous mountainous jungle that hides the Lost City. Our group counts six: Oscar president of the local Machiguenga tribe, Angel the sturdy boatsman, the guide Fernandez, the son of Oscar named Geronimo, Maaike and me, Peter. We are loaded with food, tents, machetes, our Peli cases with digital equipment and  all kinds of things varying from first aid kits till fashionable toilet paper. The most convenient pieces of equipment are the by Nomad sponsored multi functional 3:1 backpacks: carrying case, chair and bed in one.
We walk, climb and almost swim through the rivers. Our feet are sour of the blisters. Itching insects bite through clothes. After two days experiencing Mother Nature Oscar points at two mountains that limp forward and form a V. "Petroglyphes," he says and he smiles. "Tomorrow we are there." Maaike falls on a sandy ?beach? and pours the water out of her booths. "Well, we will see," she says pointing at a sand dune in front of her with a trace from an animal that crawled in and out the river. "What's hidden underneath? Eggs of a caiman?" Today, crossing the rivers to our bellies, we spotted three of them. All about two, maximum three meters. One came pretty close but disappeared when Oscar threw a stone to his head. "Eggs," answered the Machiguenga Indian, "Of a turtle". A few moments later he shows Maaike. Then he buries them again, carefully. "No need to eat, we have plenty of food..."
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The first glance of El Paititi?
Maaike runs back- and forward along the vertical rock. Tenths, no hundreds of symbols and rock carvings are clearly to be seen. One part looks like a map. On top a bend river, with a lot of crosses that assumable would indicate the spots of... of... Of what? Also a lot of faces, smiling. Furthermore snakes and rivers. Many rivers to be honest… "How does it feel to be the first one in history to video this rock?" Maaike laughs and continues working, while Fernandez and Oscar and his son take a neap and Angel builds a fireplace to dry our clothes. Peter sits down and relaxes, wondering whether he'll encounter some Mashco Piro, isolated Machiguenga or Cocapacori tribes. Most of these people haven't had any direct contact with the outside world. Even the real names are unknown. Take the Mashco Piro. The name to this virtual tribe has been given when three women appeared at the Manu River.  No one understood their language unless some words used by Mashco and Piro indians. For years they lived opposite the Pakitza guard post. They staid alive by eating fruits and eggs and troubled people because the women seamed to be in a desperate need to contact other human beings, especially men. No one liked stopping at their place and therefore they started to throw eggs and stones at passengers by. In the beginning of 1992 they were adopted by an isolated group of Machiguenga Indians and disappeared into the rainforests.
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| "Well, what are you thinking about?" Maaike turns up, finished with her job. "Whether we would ever meet people who hasn't a clue of the existence of a western world. Who don't know anything about television, radio, cars, mortgages and the rat race to keep their place in society. I would love to picture people who don't know anything about all these things which we consider to be the decisive factors that determines the quality of life." Maaike nods. "Hopefully you manage to catch some fish, otherwise you will die in your beloved natural habitat." True for sure. |
At the end of
the day we mark our position by GPS and discuss the
outcome of our findings. "Fernandez, how many gringo's
know about this place?" "Well my father knows, but he
is a local. And off course the local Indians. But further?
I think that the last five or six years this place has
been visited by three or four persons.  Two
local Peruvians and to be honest, I think that's all."
Not bad for a start. "And do you think there are more
of these carvings?" Fernandez nods. "Yes, under the
ground." "What?!" "My father told that the carvings
continue for more than two meters under the ground.
During hundreds of years the river put soil on this
spot and buried the rock." "And not only the rock, but
also the whole valley." Fernandez sighs. "Yes, this
whole valley..." ""Was El Paititi maybe an underground
city?" "In a certain way, yes..." The night falls. Silent
stars, bright moon. We encounter the first obstruction.
Standing in front of what could be an enormous map,
we face a lack of money and no equipment to excavate
this place. Suddenly we feel the shortcomings of this
expedition. I look at Maaike. "What to do?" "Well… Half
the map is underground. Let's focus on the part that
is visible. Maybe we find a clue."
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