Inca Gods and Aliens

Chapter 1 Inca Encounter (1529a.d.) Near the border between current day Ecuador and Peru “What is that?” Some pointed to the sheer cliffs. “I think someone fell from the cliffs.” Pizzaro pointed to his Sargent, “Take some men and check it out.” Sargent Juarez mounted and selected three of his men, “Follow me.” He checked his sword to be ready if needed and pressed his spurs slightly into his horse’s flanks. The four horsemen moved toward the tree canopy in a cloud of fury, but, at the same time they were met by a solitary figure traveling toward them at an impossible pace. The head was the shape of a hawk and the body appeared to be covered in polished silver and slowed so quickly that the sound of his footsteps and disturbed wind took a moment to catch him. The horses reared unexpectedly and turned with fright as one of the riders fell with sword and armor clattering around him. The runner had stopped in front of some sort of altar that was covered with food. He ate so fast it appeared to disappear. He then moved effortlessly to a hut through an open door that native guards closed behind him. The Spanish soldiers looked at each other as if they had just seen an apparition, questioning, “should we prepare for battle?” Pizzaro kept silent for a moment. He looked around at his men and finally asked his translator, “Jesse what do we have here.” Jesse just shook his head, “I believe we have just witnessed one of their Elite chaski runners that your men laughed about.” Pizzaro nodded, “I believe you now.” “Why the food and the altar?” “I think the runners need a lot of food.” That brought laughter and general agreement. “And the idols that he moved?” Jesse just shrugged. Then to be helpful said, “The one with all the food is called the ‘huaca’ they use it when a visting clan member comes to visit so they can accommodate them with appropriate security.” “It’s like a boundary check point.” “I’ve heard that others can be as big as a cathedral.” In the back a priest yelled, “False idols, they are false idols that these heathens worship.” Pizzaro laughed and looked over at the head priest, “Father Joseph, keep your brother Juan under control.” There were many scribe-priests standing near the huaca now. Some were trying to engage the apprehensive natives with newly untested Pascua and Quechua words that they had recently learned. Others were drawing pictures and comparing notes of various items. The door to the building opened and a healthy looking young man dressed in a confusing blend of bright colors came out and pushed between the priests to move the tiny statues. He looked up toward the sun and held his hands as if to send a prayer and appeared to tie a couple of knots on some strings hanging over his shoulder. He gave a look of distain and held his nose as if to say that the Spanish and priests that surrounded him stunk. Without flourish he took off running in a normal manner toward the cliff. Soon he could be seen running and walking up the mountain trail that was generally in the area where the Elite runner had flown down. Pizzaro asked Jesse, “Is that the runner that came down the mountain from before?” “I don’t think so Master Pizzaro, I believe the other was an ‘elite’ younger child.” “That one is a regular messenger.” The Jesuit priests that traveled with Pizarro had multiple roles. It was required that they traveled with the Spanish soldiers for their safety. Some of the priests were there as missionarys to convert the natives to Christianity and save them from certain damnation while others were broadly educated and documented everything in their precious notebooks from the society to agriculture and the sciences. The priests now surrounded the huaca-altar. Some had sketch books out and were furiously taking notes and sketching the items they saw. When the pious priests saw the carved figures, they started by saying a prayer of forgiveness, then followed with a look at Pizarro telling him, “There are heathen Idols here,” to which Pizarro looked back at his brothers, rolled his eyes and guffawed with “Madre Dios, there are sinners here.” That brought a round of laughter from most of the soldiers. One priest, Brother Juan, was particularly upset and began to throw the figures on the ground, doing his best to smash them. As he did this, the other priests, began to call out to him, “Brother Juan, stop, these are native shrines, we must respect them!” This only seemed to incite Father Juan to a higher level of violence toward the altar. The other priests pulled him back and turned him away. The natives now moved to stand firmly between the priests and the altar behind them. The priests continued with a lively dialog concerning their differences relating to the statues and the altar. Pizarro’s men were mostly silent and alert with an occasional laugh, but still there were sounds of boots on the ground with metal spurs against pebbles while they watched alertly as the priest Juan, again lost his composure and returned to the huaca in a renewed state of rage and attempted to reach past the natives standing somewhat passively as a barrier. He managed to reach past them and again began to throw food and other trinkets he called false images from the altar. One warrior held a blade and mimed using it to slit the unruly priest’s neck. Nearby, looking steadily at the Spanish, stood a group that looked like elders from the nearby village and wary field workers continued picking beans. Pizarro thought this would be a good place to set up an encampment for the night. He hoped that they could meet peacefully with leaders of the village. He gave them a nod of recognition, but that was all. Like all American natives they showed great interest in the horses. Because of the colorfully woven fabrics, it was obvious they were now in an area controlled by these Inca people. Pizarro looked over at his brothers and lieutenants who had been commenting on this and other activities around them, said, “This must be the beginning of the groomed highways we were told about.” Pizarro’s brother Gonzalo, laughing, agreed, “They knew we were coming and built it for us.” “We can call it ‘El Camino Pizarro’.” The priest-scribes busily drew pictures and wrote in their journals as they kept records of this journey with roughly drawn images of the manicured roads and these ‘altar’ stations again piled high with food and the sacred objects that had been replaced. Some of the Christian priests, especially Brother Juan, viewed the altar’s items as devil worship with evil idols. In contrast, Brother Marcus-Pablo attempted to communicate with the natives guarding the idols. Pizarro finally had enough of Brother Juan and roughly pulled him away and grabbed him by the throat. “Father Juan”, he roared, “you,” pausing as if losing his words, then continued, “...you embarrass us.” “This looks more like a buffet table with all of the food piled high.” With a wry and exasperated look, he asked, “How do you know they were not preparing a midday meal for us?” That brought another laugh from the solders. Brother Juan did not feign fear of Pizarro and hissed back, “No! We were turned away.” “It is obviously a religious altar.” “Look at the idols.” “Some of the statues are even having sex with each other; disgusting!” His brothers and the soldiers were laughing at the priest and making pig sounding noises. The priest Juan turned to run again toward the altar to cause additional damage. Pizarro, looking around, called out the priest Joseph, “Brother Joseph! In the name of God, why must you destroy these things?” “You need to keep your priests in line or we will do it for you.”