Meeting Q’eros

The Q’eros are known as the guardians of the wisdom of the Andes. They are organic potato producers, shepherds of alpacas, musicians and weavers who live in remote villages at 14,500 feet. Considered the last Incas of Peru, the Q’eros strive to preserve their indigenous ethnic identity. They are one of the most isolated Andean communities, which move with the stations to live and work at various altitudes. The Q’eros are known for the beauty of their traditional fabrics that are encoded with ancestral symbols and earth-centered cultural knowledge. The Q’eros people live a working life on par with nature. They make offerings to Pacha Mama, Mother Earth and the Apus, mountain spirits, in exchange for their well-being and that of their animals and crops. The ayni concepts of the worldview, the importance of reciprocally sharing and animu, the awareness of an animated essence in all things, shape their interactions between them and their environment.

A Q’ero healer once shared a prophecy:

“When enough seeds awaken—when they free themselves from fear and from the other negative aspects of the third and fourth levels of consciousness—the seeds of the fifth level will be able to sprout within humanity and form a Whole.”

For their history and further context:

https://inka-world.com/en/qeros/

Hatun Q’eros Cultural Center

You can find many videos online now (for example):

https://vimeo.com/search?q=qeros

A documentary on the Q’eros:

https://www.cultureunplugged.com/documentary/watch-online/play/51917/INKARRI-500-years-of-resistance-of-the-incan-Spirit-in-Peru

The original text of my article featured as the cover story in the September 2020 issue of Atlas, Turkey’s most established geography and exploration magazine:

THE 500-YEAR GUARDIANS OF ANCIENT WISDOM:
Q’EROS

I’m here in Peru—in these mystical lands that draw me inward, straight into the depths of my heart. This beautiful country holds three powerful geographical worlds, both natural and cultural: the Pacific coast, the Andes, and the Amazon Rainforest, and within them, many Indigenous communities.

I am in a place where I almost hesitate to step out of my tent and stretch, slowly and happily, letting my eyes wander. The idea of coming here feels exciting—yet being here makes something inside me tremble. I hold deep respect for these people, who live far from “civilization,” in conditions that are materially very basic, in order to protect the culture they love and honor.

In the Cusco region, within the energetic field held by the most sacred mountain—Ausangate (6,384m)—I am with a community called Q’eros, sheltered by four sacred mountains, in a place named Cocha Moqo, where certain secrets humanity has long been searching for seem to be quietly kept. Hidden among the mountains, the Q’eros have lived here for the last five hundred years in near-total isolation, with a conscious commitment to protect the ancient knowledge they carry.

When the invaders reached the Andes and Cusco, the capital of the Inca civilization (A.D. 1533), the people they encountered—the Quechua—were communities who had not yet used writing or even the wheel, who had never seen a horse, never seen weapons. In the end, the entire continent was invaded, and a large part of the Indigenous population was massacred.

The Q’eros, however, sensed the invaders’ greed in advance. Rather than fighting, they secretly migrated to a place they could not be found, and for a very long time they remained hidden. Their existence was “discovered” in 1955; since then, they have continued to live detached from modern life at around 4,400 meters. And perhaps, back then, the decision they made sounded something like this:

“These people clearly did not come to learn or to share. What a pity.
They think they can possess this sacred valley, and they cannot see how vast these mountains are.
They have forgotten certain ancient truths.
Let us wish that these powerful lands may bring them back to the beauty of love and peace—
and let us climb into the mountains where they cannot find us, migrating even higher, to a sheltered place.
We must hide in order to protect sacred knowledge. When the waters flow and time arrives, they will realize that this attitude has only harmed their very existence, and they will need the truth. That day, many who have understood what is happening will rise from all corners of the world and come here. For those days, we must take this responsibility now, so that humanity does not disappear into this hatred.
When the time comes, everything will reveal itself. There is nothing to fear, nothing to lose.”

To visit this community—who have successfully preserved the Andean cosmovision (a worldview built on spiritual foundations) and their spiritual connections—is only possible with permission. Here, people believe they receive their power from the apus—the mountain spirits—understood as a masculine force, and from Pachamama, Mother Earth—understood not merely as “soil,” but as a living field that holds all elements and energies.

There is no doctor in the village, no pharmacy—and access to such things is extremely limited. The youth population is slowly decreasing; still, some choose to remain. I cannot forget the words of my friend Salqa, who is 25, who has chosen to stay, and who has been invited to many places around the world to share his vision:

“Each of us is a healer. When one of us gets sick, when a journey is about to begin, for our animals, for our families, for abundance and fertility, for healing—we do ceremony. We ask permission from the mountains around us, from the twelve sacred apus of the region, and from Pachamama, and we offer the despacho we prepared as a gift to them. None of us here has a health problem.”

The ceremony he speaks of is, in many ways, one of Peru’s most central rituals. Wishes are spoken, thanks are offered to Mother Earth, and the ritual is carried out with coca, the sacred plant of the region, after permission is received from the apus. A bundle is prepared—filled with flowers, seeds, nuts, and symbolic objects—and at the end it is either released into flowing water or given to fire. They turn their backs to the offering, believing that when their eyes are not “on” it, the bundle—and the intention inside it—travels more freely and reaches the Universe more easily.

They say they can receive knowledge and strength from each element. They speak of being able to communicate with the vibrations of all beings—living and non-living. Those with strong shamanic connection are given the title paq’o, and within paq’o-hood there are different levels. The emphasis they place on transformation and the transmission of knowledge reveals the depth of their vision and the largeness of their hearts.

“Night and day, light and dark—are one,” they say. “Energies become whole only when they are with their counterparts; only then can they move forward.” They give great importance to duality—to paired existence—and they say everyone in their village has a partner. Their colorful clothes and the ponchos they wear constantly (they have a special poncho used only in ceremony) protect them somewhat from the cold. Yet on their feet, they wear sandals made by cutting car tires—custom-fitted to each person’s foot—without socks. And you realize: because they fit perfectly and because they are rubber, these sandals can be more durable and more functional than the best hiking boots.

A road was opened in recent years to reach Paucartambo, the nearest settlement (population around ten thousand). The route takes about four hours, stays above 4,000 meters, and can only be crossed by a proper off-road vehicle.

The Q’eros live as families in one-room houses of about 20 square meters. They use the open land for the toilet. They wash both their clothes and themselves in waterfalls fed by glacial water. Food is cooked inside the home over fires made from dung and eucalyptus. Their staple foods include dozens of varieties of potatoes they grow together (Peru has over a thousand potato varieties), fava beans, corn, and alpaca meat.

The animals they raise are, in truth, their closest companions. In this village of around 200 people, there are roughly 2,000 llamas. Children begin herding from the age of five. They make music with instruments they craft themselves. Women, especially, are masterful weavers, working with llama and alpaca wool. Their work system is called ayni: everything is planned and done together—“today for you, tomorrow for me,” they say, with a deep sense of consciousness.

The Q’eros are not only “in harmony” with nature—at times it feels as if they are nature. They have not forgotten that humans are part of the earth. Their homes are simply four walls and a roof—enough to protect from wind and rain. They have not placed themselves above anything. It is as if they have taken on the color of the land they live on. Their warm, deep smiles reflect a pure connection to life. Even within this powerful landscape—high mountains and soft, cotton-like clouds—their presence does not feel out of place; it feels comforting, as if it quietly warms you from the inside.

By the end of the day, I find myself wishing that the paq’os will continue blowing coca leaves for all of humanity. The trembling inside me softens. I feel excited—alive.

And so, it feels right to leave the final word to these “guardians of wisdom”:

“Follow your own footprints. Learn from rivers, trees, and rocks. Honor your brothers and sisters. Honor Mother Earth. Honor the Great Spirit. Honor yourself and all of Creation. Look with the eyes of your spirit, and focus on what truly matters.”