Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces while Sustaining Indigenous Language: Bilingual College Students in the Andes 9781788929714

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Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces while Sustaining Indigenous Language

BILINGUAL EDUCATION & BILINGUALISM Series Editors: Nancy H. Hornberger (University of Pennsylvania, USA) and Wayne E. Wright (Purdue University, USA) Bilingual Education and Bilingualism is an international, multidisciplinary series publishing research on the philosophy, politics, policy, provision and practice of language planning, Indigenous and minority language education, multilingualism, multiculturalism, biliteracy, bilingualism and bilingual education. The series aims to mirror current debates and discussions. New proposals for single-authored, multiple-authored, or edited books in the series are warmly welcomed, in any of the following categories or others authors may propose: overview or introductory texts; course readers or general reference texts; focus books on particular multilingual education program types; school-based case studies; national case studies; collected cases with a clear programmatic or conceptual theme; and professional education manuals. All books in this series are externally peer-reviewed. Full details of all the books in this series and of all our other publications can be found on http://www.multilingual-matters.com, or by writing to Multilingual Matters, St Nicholas House, 31–34 High Street, Bristol BS1 2AW, UK.

BILINGUAL EDUCATION & BILINGUALISM: 134

Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces while Sustaining Indigenous Language Bilingual College Students in the Andes

Yuliana Hevelyn Kenfield

MULTILINGUAL MATTERS Bristol • Blue Ridge Summit

DOI https://doi.org/10.21832/KENFIE9707 Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. Names: Kenfield, Yuliana Hevelyn, author. Title: Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces while Sustaining Indigenous Language: Bilingual College Students in the Andes/Yuliana Hevelyn Kenfield. Description: Bristol; Blue Ridge Summit: Multilingual Matters, [2021] | Series: Bilingual education & Bilingualism: 134 | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Summary: “This book chronicles the experiences of Quechuan bilingual college students who strive to maintain their ethnolinguistic identity while succeeding in Spanish-centric curricula. The book presents visual and textual insights and merges decolonial theory and participatory action research in pursuit of mobilizing Indigenous languages”—Provided by publisher. Identifiers: LCCN 2021025096 | ISBN 9781788929707 (hardback) | ISBN 9781788929714 (pdf) | ISBN 9781788929721 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Education, Bilingual—Peru—Cuzco. | Language maintenance— Peru—Cuzco. | Quechua Indians—Education (Higher)—Peru—Cuzco. | Bilingualism—Peru—Cuzco. | Quechua language—Peru—Cuzco. | Spanish language—Peru—Cuzco. | Language and education—Peru—Cuzco. Classification: LCC LC3735.P5 K46 2021 | DDC 370.117/50973—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021025096 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue entry for this book is available from the British Library. ISBN-13: 978-1-78892-970-7 (hbk) Multilingual Matters UK: St Nicholas House, 31–34 High Street, Bristol BS1 2AW, UK. USA: NBN, Blue Ridge Summit, PA, USA. Website: www.multilingual-matters.com Twitter: Multi_Ling_Mat Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/multilingualmatters Blog: www.channelviewpublications.wordpress.com Copyright © 2021 Yuliana Hevelyn Kenfield. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher. The policy of Multilingual Matters/Channel View Publications is to use papers that are natural, renewable and recyclable products, made from wood grown in sustainable forests. In the manufacturing process of our books, and to further support our policy, preference is given to printers that have FSC and PEFC Chain of Custody certification. The FSC and/or PEFC logos will appear on those books where full certification has been granted to the printer concerned. Typeset by Nova Techset Private Limited, Bengaluru and Chennai, India. Printed and bound in the UK by the CPI Books Group Ltd.

To Andean activists and other Indigenous educational activists

Contents

Figures and Tables Acknowledgments Foreword Introduction The Structure of the Book

ix xiii xv xvii xviii

Part 1: Zooming into Context 1

2

3

Policy versus Practice The Ever-evolving Intercultural Policies Sociolinguistic Contradictions: From Attitudinal Research to Language Ideological Explorations in the Educational Experience Decolonial Participatory Approach in Sociolinguistic Andean Studies The Researcher’s Identity, Subjectivities and Positionality Choice of Methodology Community-based participatory research with photovoice Decolonial thinking Choice of View Toward Bilinguals, Biliteracy and Bilingualism Choice of Quechua Conventions Andean Research Partners Within the Research Process The Insider–Outsider Influx of an Andean Researcher Andean Research Partners Within the Phases of the CBPR Study Phase 1: Approaching the community of bilingual Quechua–Spanish college students Phase 2: The photovoice study Data Analysis Challenges, Possibilities and Limitations

vii

3 3 7 14 14 19 19 22 25 26 28 28 32 37 40 48 58

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Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces while Sustaining Indigenous Language

Part 2: Decoloniality and Coloniality Within Sociolinguistics Ideological Practices 4

Challenging Supay Recognizing Supay Within Oneself Confronting the Supay Within the University Community Interrelations Recognizing and Contending with Institutional Supay at the University

63 64

5

Spreading Lazos Lazos as Collective Memory in Motion Lazos for Collective Justice Communal Quechua Knowledges Within Lazos

80 81 85 89

6

T’ikarinanpaq: Blooming of Quechua Look at What is Sprouting Rooting out Deficit Ideologies More Fertile Ground to Flourish

68 73

94 94 105 109

Part 3: Reaffirming Andean Pedagogies Within a Decolonial Stance 7

8

Andean Pedagogies and Participatory Cultural Humility as Decolonial Praxis Engaging in Quechua Practices for Collective Trust Muyu muyurispa – circular scenarios in motion Tinkuy – experiential exchange encounter Kuka akulliy – chewing coca leaves Enacting Andean Agency for Sustainability Ayni – reciprocal and collective work From Cultural Humility to Participatory Cultural Humility as Decolonial Praxis Dismantling Epistemological and Ontological Injustice Toward a Cyclical T’ikarinanpaq Andean Students’ Perspectives on Current and Projected Quechua Blooming at the University Campus Future Steps Drawing from Old and New Decolonial Visions Concluding Thoughts

123 124 125 128 132 136 136 141 145 149 150 159 163

Appendices Appendix 1: Consent to Participate in Research Appendix 2: Interview Question Script Appendix 3: Brochure Appendix 4: Draft Proposal

167 167 172 173 188

References Index

190 195

Figures and Tables

Figures

Figure 1.1 Google Maps directions for driving from Ayacucho, Perú, to Cusco, Perú (Google, n.d.)

7

Figure 1.2 Responses to the survey question: Since you became a college student, do you speak Quechua with your professors and college personnel?

9

Figure 1.3 Responses to the survey question: Since you became a college student, do you speak Quechua with your classmates?

10

Figure 2.1 Great-grandparents: Maria Palomino Mora and Mariano Vasquez Loayza. Family picture, unknown date

15

Figure 2.2 With Claudia Cuba Huamaní on the left by the Inca Roca street. Y. Kenfield, 2016

17

Figure 2.3 Analytics of decoloniality. Maldonado-Torres (2016) in Fondation Frantz Fanon, 30

23

Figure 2.4 Analytics of decoloniality. Maldonado-Torres (2016) in Fondation Frantz Fanon, 30

24

Figure 3.1 Co-presenter with Tawa members in Cusco, Perú. Y. Kenfield, 2019

30

Figure 3.2 Co-panelist with Andean researchers at a conference in the United States. Y. Kenfield, 2019

31

Figure 3.3 Hilaria Supa Huamán. Parlamento Andino (2014) in El Condor, p. 6

31

Figure 3.4 Sequential flow of the CBPR phases

36

Figure 3.5 First CBPR w’atia, Y. Kenfield, 2016

39

Figure 3.6 Photovoice participants’ bios

42

Figure 3.7 Data collection across the main stages of the photovoice project

46

ix

x Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces while Sustaining Indigenous Language

Figure 3.8 Photovoice overview

49

Figure 4.1 Entry in the brochure. D. Ventura Aucca, 2017

64

Figure 4.2 Photovoice. Pucahuayta, 2017

65

Figure 4.3 Entry in the brochure. C. Flores Ramos, 2017

66

Figure 4.4 Photovoice. C. Ccasa Aparicio, 2017.

69

Figure 4.5 Photovoice. F. Chino Mamani, 2017

74

Figure 4.6 Entry in the brochure. Y. Vargas Quispe, 2017

76

Figure 4.7 Entry in the brochure. G. Quispe Huayhua, 2017

78

Figure 4.8 Photograph at the studio of a local TV station in Cusco. Y. Kenfield, 2017

79

Figure 5.1 Entry in the brochure. G. Quispe Huayhua, 2017

81

Figure 5.2 Entry in the brochure. N. Conde Banda, 2017

82

Figure 5.3 Photovoice. D. Ventura Aucca, 2017

83

Figure 5.4 Entry in the brochure. Pukahuayta, 2017

83

Figure 5.5 Entry in the brochure. C. Flores Ramos, 2017

84

Figure 5.6 Entry in the brochure. Y. Levita Pillco, 2017

86

Figure 5.7 Photovoice. F. Chino Mamani, 2017

88

Figure 5.8 Photovoice. Y. Levita Pillco, 2017

89

Figure 5.9 Entry in the brochure. E. Ccasani Ccosco, 2017

90

Figure 5.10 Photovoice. N. Conde Banda, 2017

91

Figure 5.11 Photovoice. Pukahuayta, 2017

91

Figure 5.12 Photovoice. N. Conde Banda, 2017

92

Figure 6.1 Photovoice. N. Conde Banda, 2017

96

Figure 6.2 Photograph. N. Gomez Gomez, 2018

97

Figure 6.3 Photovoice. G. Quispe Huayhua, 2017

98

Figure 6.4 Photovoice. G. Quispe Huayhua, 2017

100

Figure 6.5 Photovoice. G. Quispe Huayhua, 2017

100

Figure 6.6 Photo of students listening to Cinthia in Huayllapata. Y. Kenfield, 2017

101

Figure 6.7 Photo of Cinthia dialoguing in Quechua at Casa Campesina. Y. Kenfield, 2017

102

Figures and Tables

xi

Figure 6.8 Flyer shared via WhatsApp. L. Camacho Caballero, 2017

105

Figure 6.9 Photograph in Huayllapata while Fructuoso is talking. Y. Kenfield, 2017

108

Figure 6.10 Entry in the brochure. C. Flores Ramos, 2017

112

Figure 6.11 Photovoice. E. Ccasani Ccosco, 2017

113

Figure 6.12 Photovoice. Pucahuayta, 2017

114

Figure 7.1 Sequence of Muyu Muyurispa during the photovoice process

126

Figure 7.2 Muyu muyurispa in the Tambomachay area. Y. Kenfield, 2017

126

Figure 7.3 Muyu muyurispa of students with the village women’s children. Y. Kenfield, 2017

128

Figure 7.4 Students doing a muyu muyurispa and wearing traditional women’s polleras and monteras. W. Huayllani Mercado, 2017

128

Figure 7.5 A weaver takes part in a tinkuy and calls for reflection. Y. Kenfield, 2017

130

Figure 7.6 Photo exposition at Casa Campesina. Y. Huillca, 2017

132

Figure 7.7 People selecting coca leaves for kuka akulliy. Y. Huillca, 2017

133

Figure 7.8 Google Maps directions for hiking from Saqsaywaman, Cusco, to Pachatusan, Cusco (Google, n.d.)

134

Figure 7.9 Note ‘the ball’ from the kuka akulliy of the young man in the back. Y. Kenfield, 2017

134

Figure 7.10 Apu Wayra on the university campus during the photo exposition. Y. Kenfield, 2017

138

Figure 7.11 Photograph at the studio of a local TV station in Cusco. Y. Kenfield, 2017

139

Figure 7.12 Photovoice exposition in UNSAAC. Y. Huillca Quishua, 2017

140

Figure 7.13 Wences poses with the poster for the photo exposition. G. Huayhua Quispe, 2017

140

Figure 7.14 Informative poster about the event organized by VIHÑ. N. Gomez Gomez, 2018

141

xii Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces while Sustaining Indigenous Language

Figure 8.1 Andean students’ perspectives on current Quechua practices on the university campus

150

Figure 8.2 Andean students’ envisioned cyclical t’ikarinanpaq (cycles of Quechua blooming)

157

Figure 8.3 Entry in the brochure. F. Chino Mamani, 2017

158

Figure 8.4 From Puelles family’s field. M. Puelles, 2021

164

Figure 8.5 Ch’iqchi kukuli saracha. I. Quispe Puma, 2021

164

Figure 8.6 Coya’s harvest. D. Medrano Vasquez, 2021

165

Figure 8.7 Chiqchi sara. M. Medrano Vasquez, 2021

165

Figure 8.8 Qanka saracha. E. Tito Vega, 2021

166

Tables

Table 3.1

Photovoice participants’ first language and college major

41

Acknowledgments

This book marks for me a beginning in my life as an academic researcher. I fervently wish to serve with honor the community of South–North educators and participatory researchers. The realization of this participatory study would not have been possible without the vibrant collective effort of los incansables estudiantes antonianas/os: Alex, Carmen, Cinthia, Diana, Emilio, Edgar, Frank, Fructuoso, Gabriel, Nilda, Pucahuayta, Ronald, Yanet, Yuly, Yexy, y Wences. I owe you much gratitude and hope to continue linking and learning with you in the coming years with this unfi nished project in which we are involved. He tenido la fortuna de trabajar con Uds. Astawan qamkuna(wan) yachachiwanki. Kawsachun Panaturaykiykuna! The participatory approach of this work is linked not only to my academic training but also to my intergenerational family and community. For that reason, sonqoy ukhupi, I am grateful to my relatives. I am grateful to have memories of my great-grandparents such as my great-grandma Juana, who, through her belly scar, has taught me so much, como mujer trenzante que disfrutaba su sara chicha luego de sus grandes quehaceres. My grandmothers Maria and Raquel, grandparents Melitón and Ramón, my mother Maria (quien a sido compañera vigilante en mi pasaje maternal y académico), my father Narciso (quien entre el viento siembra el pensamiento transversal y musica andina) aunts, uncles and cousins who believe in me, I thank you for all your good advice and practical examples. I especially appreciate the patience of my husband Doug Kenfield and his counter dialogues with whom I have grown so much, to the extent of becoming a mother of twins, mis wawas: T’ika and Chaski. In addition, my academic family has been of great importance for the realization of this work. I greatly appreciate the collegiate community of the University of New Mexico. Special thanks are in order to my mentor Professor Carlos LopezLeiva who so many times with his sharp, pointy, sober comments has constantly awakened me. For their encouragement, many thanks go to professors: Trinidad-Galvan (que en paz descanse), Rosa Vallejos, Sylvia Celedon-Pattichis, Greg Cajete, Lorenda Belone and Holbrook Mahn. I must also acknowledge all the support I have had at the San Antonio Abad University in Cusco through the teachers, professors and friends xiii

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Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces while Sustaining Indigenous Language

Carmen y Ricardo, Jorge F.O., Maria del Pilar, Mario, Rita, Zoraida, Vicente, and the Research Institute of the University and Region. Thanks to the dialogues with the women weavers of Huayllapata, Apu Wayra collective, and yachachiq Q’orichaska and Julia. Last, but not least, I am very appreciative of the critical support of the staff at the Center for Andean and Amazonian Studies Bartolomé de las Casas, particularly a special thanks to Claudia, Ligia, Rafael, Valerio and Vilma. It is really very difficult to recognize and thank a selection of people as I feel that the list does not cover many other significant persons, places, canciones, y sentipensamientos del Sur Global lleno de apapachos. Without further ado, I greet some of the Apus who make the path – Saqsaywaman, Huanacauri and Salkantay – where the Quechua people are constantly breathing.

Foreword

The power of youth to inspire all of us, particularly scholars to continue pursuing knowledge and enacting change for social justice is unlimited. In Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces While Sustaining Indigenous Language: Bilingual College Students in The Andes, Yuliana Kenfield embarks readers in innovative research that utilizes photovoice in community-based participatory action inquiry with Indigenous youth. Yuliana Kenfield’s research work aims to disrupt a long history of inequitable research relationships between the academy and minoritized communities in the Andean world; a history that carries pain as well as mistrust. At the heart of Yuliana Kenfield’s book is the call to open our understandings of Indigenous youth in higher education spaces, not as passive but as proactive agents of change within colonized educational spaces that have excluded and continue to exclude Indigenous identity, language, knowledge and cultural practices. As a researcher committed to decolonizing practices through cultural humility, Yuliana Kenfield writes in detail about her own story, that of her family, her lazos and her own learning as an insider outsider researcher, speaker of Spanish, English and Quechua, mother and South–North immigrant. Among its many intellectual merits, I fi nd comfort in the epistemological versatility framing this book; while rooted in meaningful, contextualized liberatory inquiry with Indigenous youth from the Southern Peruvian Andes, it can speak closely to scholars in other institutional spaces, in faraway contexts. As a reader of this book, you will appreciate it as a teaching tool as well. Yuliana Kenfield’s writing style is characteristically didactic. Through her words and trilingual texts, she captures with honest detail the reflection and practice taking place during her research process. You will also find compelling evidence of sensitive inquiry that shows her responsiveness and adaptation to the youth and community members involved in this research project. Complementing the writing of the book are two key features that enhance the depth of inquiry across the different chapters of Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces while Sustaining Indigenous Language: Bilingual College Students in the Andes: language diversity and visual representation from the youth’s photovoice projects. Sometimes in Quechua, and sometimes in Spanish, you will access the students’ reflections on their Indigenous language and identity and admire their deep xv

xvi Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces while Sustaining Indigenous Language

understanding of who they are in their social and institutional contexts. The pictures representing concepts as well as actions offer to the reader the opportunity to witness and appreciate the brilliance of Indigenous youth. You will learn about the complex ways in which Indigenous youth are able to understand their own humanity and how from the micro to the macro, they are able to reimagine themselves and the world. Without excuses, Indigenous youth courageously advocate for their own education in formal spaces and reimagine themselves as professionals who give back to their community in generous and liberatory ways. The book allows readers to experience the youth’s transformative power and the relevance of photovoice as a method that can enable decolonial understandings and practice. Through Yuliana Kenfield’s words I read the youth’s beautiful thoughts with both a sense of overall respect and excitement. In a world where we continue to witness suppression and the forces of supay, I invite you to read this book, to hear the voice of Indigenous youth and learn about their capacity to understand the profound issues affecting their communities. I invite you to be fascinated and inspired by the youth’s creativity and their vision, which together can convey such transformative power, hope and possibility for all of us. Laura A. Valdiviezo

Introduction

This book provides the reader with visual and textual insights on how Andean college students identify the impediments, necessary support and next-step actions to mobilize Quechua in higher education. Historically, numerous language researchers have investigated bilingual Quechua–Spanish practices in rural schools and communities. However, research that examines the bilingual Quechua–Spanish practices of Andean youth in higher education is limited. This book chronicles the scant literature about experiences of Quechua bilingual college students in Cusco who strive to maintain their ethnolinguistic identity yet succeed in Spanish-centric curricula. It depicts ways in which Andean college students deal with limited opportunities for Quechua–Spanish bilingual practices. In addition, this book provides an overview of their collective efforts to mobilize Quechua in higher education, efforts which will help all who read it understand maintenance of the Quechua language, beginning at the grassroots level. The sociolinguistic ideologies and practices of Andean students towards their native language will likely inform and help eliminate language barriers in policy-making, stigmatization of their Quechua heritage, and unequable distribution of resources and contractual instruments rampant in modern Peruvian communities. This book advocates for engaging language researchers in critical collective forces at the core of conditions which promote Quechua in higher education; however, this collective effort must reflect decolonial, nonEurocentric, non-fundamentalist Indigenous concepts in combination with action-oriented participatory research. For that reason, the purpose of this book is three-fold: •

•

to provide an overview, drawing on the results of a photovoice study, of the sociolinguistic practices and ideologies of bilingual Quechua– Spanish college students who strive to maintain their ethnolinguistic Quechua practices; to advocate for a participatory approach to research in Andean sociolinguistics, revealing how non-participatory approaches to research with Indigenous populations must be supplanted by a shift to participatory approaches which will strengthen research for collective best interest;

xvii

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Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces while Sustaining Indigenous Language

to explore the merit of adopting a language-blooming model using bottom-up language planning for the mobilization of indigenous languages in higher education, a stance supported by the collective vision of Andean college students.

In sum, this book aims to be useful for sociolinguistic scholars, language maintenance researchers and indigenous researchers, especially in Andean countries and Latin America, a region of keen emphasis not only on the language policy, planning and pedagogy of Quechua, but also on the politics of language. The Structure of the Book

The book is divided into eight chapters distributed in four major sections: Part 1. Zooming into Context. This section focuses on the context, methodology and people involved in the participatory study discussed in this book. Chapter 1: Policy versus Practice. This chapter provides an overview of current de jure policies versus de facto practices for the maintenance of the Indigenous languages in education, particularly in higher education: practices that have evolved before and subsequent to Spanish colonization. It reviews literature depicting Quechua speakers, their usage of Quechua on campus and their difficulties accessing information in their native tongue. It offers penetrating insights of the results of a survey coauthored with Andean college students – a revelation of the contradictions that underpin policies and practices in their specific university with regard to intercultural approaches to multilingualism. It elaborates on why the students were choosing not to use Quechua in the university in Cusco. Lastly, this chapter underscores the need for a participatory study focused on strategies students employed to maintain their Quechua as well as assessments of whether the university was providing sufficient opportunities for these students to engage in Quechua epistemes. Chapter 2: Decolonial Participatory Approach in Sociolinguistic Andean Studies. This chapter first explains how my interpersonal and intergenerational sociocultural experiences and subjectivities motivate and inform the relatively unconventional design and theoretical framework of the study. Then, it introduces community-based participatory research (CBPR) as the research framework of choice to democratize the research process and give greater decision-making power to the college students about the direction of study on Quechua–Spanish bilingualism in higher education. Further, it discusses how decolonial thinking provides CBPR studies critical lenses for visualizing the knowledge, identities and practices of marginalization in a hegemonic educational system.

Introduction xix

Chapter 3: Andean Research Partners Within the Research Process. This chapter tells the stories of how I, an insider–outsider researcher, developed and negotiated interactive relationships with Andean collaborators as participants, not merely subjects. This chapter describes my partnering with an activist student organization called Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan (Intercultural Volunteering Hatun Ñan group – VIHÑ, Spanish–Quechua acronym). Partnering with VIHÑ was critical to developing the photovoice study within a CBPR framework. This chapter also describes the participation of Casa Campesina collaborators, Ayllu Multilingue members and members of the Women’s Association of Weavers of Huayllapata. Lastly, this chapter discusses the challenges, possibilities and limits encountered while engaging in a democratic, collective study. Part 2. Decoloniality and Coloniality Within Sociolinguistics Ideological Practices. This section shares concepts arising from voices within the data. It illustrates the ways students’ efforts and visions create spaces for their Quechua practices to flourish despite hindrances from their university. The chapters respond to the following questions: What issues do the photovoice participants, Andean college students, raise related to opportunities to use their Quechua? What do they propose to transform this reality? Chapter 4: Challenging Supay. This chapter focuses on how students identify supay, the wrong-acting of the collective unconscious, as well as how they challenge this maleficent behavior that limits Quechua– Spanish bilingual practices. Supay is discussed as constraints arising from an intra- and inter-personal, communal, institutional psyche directed by colonial ideologies. It sustains an array of linguistic discriminations such as language shame practices, the absence of Quechua-based courses in core curricula and the failure of administration to recognize bilingualism of the Quechua students as an asset. Lastly, the chapter reveals how students combat supay, how they reject the belief that Quechua does not belong in the university campus and community. This chapter includes photographs created by the Andean students. Chapter 5: Spreading Lazos. This chapter focuses on how Andean students recognize the importance of nurturing their natal bonds and communal connections with Quechua peoples through lazos (ties). Lazos are explained in three subthemes identified by the participants. The fi rst, ‘collective memory in motion,’ illustrates how students see their Quechua linguistic lazos and legacy as problematized: an emotion that is applauded in rhetorical discourse but ignored in daily life as well as in collegiate practices. The second subtheme, ‘collective justice,’ describes the motivation for using Quechua as a common thread to dignify and respect all Quechua peoples. The last, ‘communal

xx

Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces while Sustaining Indigenous Language

Quechua knowledge,’ reveals students’ awareness of and reflections on the loss of knowledge coincident with the loss of the Quechua language and how the university facilitates these ‘epistemicides.’ Chapter 6: T’ikarinanpaq: Blooming of Quechua. This chapter portrays the initiatives and plans of bilingual students to ensure that Quechua blossoms or flourishes among the entire university community. Tikarinanpaq embraces three forms of decolonial gestures students employ to cultivate and expand Quechua and Quechua–Spanish bilingualism among the university’s community. First, ‘look at what is sprouting,’ illustrates the current actions students employ to ensure that Quechua does not disappear but continues to be nurtured among them. ‘Look at what is sprouting,’ in particular, reveals the collective strength of VIHÑ activities that recruit physical spaces for Quechua students at the university. Next, ‘rooting out deficit ideologies’ details how students are confronting ideologies that create a terrain hostile to development of Quechua–Spanish bilingual practices. Finally, ‘more ground to flourish in’ describes how students are proposing strategic measures that the university should take into account to promote and maintain bilingualism among the university community. Part 3. Reaffirming Andean Pedagogies Within a Decolonial Stance. This section answers the following question: How did the participation of the Andean community members shape the implementation of this photovoice study? It discusses the need to engage with participatory cultural humility (PCH) which adds awareness of colonial differences and diminishes internal colonialism between members involved in participatory research, particularly CBPR research. Also, it describes Andean pedagogies that emerged during the photovoice study due to the practice of PCH. Chapter 7: Andean Pedagogies and Participatory Cultural Humility as Decolonial Praxis. This chapter describes how Andean Pedagogies reconfigured the photovoice process and disrupted processes of coloniality by enacting their saberes-haceres, experiential knowledges retained in collective memories of Andean pedagogies. It captures four different representations of Andean saberes-haceres that enriched the photovoice process during the implementation of the study. Andean experiential knowledge specifically informed the building of collective trust and sustainability as follows: muyu muyurispa – circular scenarios in motion; tinkuy – an exchange of information, plans, or experiences, which could be translated as an ‘experiential encounter’; kuka akulliy – the act of chewing coca leaves and sucking their juices; ayni – a type of labor exchange that involves collective physical effort to benefit both parties. These pedagogies were coupled with collective student activism – student participation in social and political activities at the university.

Introduction xxi

This chapter also advocates for utilizing PCH as a mechanism to recognize community partners as the experts whose expertise may be guided by colonial or decolonial ideologies due to internal colonialism. I conceptualize PCH as a collective practice that engages community partners and academic partners to disrupt the long-lasting forces of coloniality implanted in hegemonic cultural practices. Chapter 8: Toward a Cyclical T’ikaraninpaq. This chapter summarizes major challenges for continuity of efforts to nurture the Blooming of Quechua in higher education in spite of the coloniality of power. It advocates for future steps to continue participatory studies and efforts that contest social injustices for Quechua peoples. It urges researchers to ask questions such as: Who benefits from research? How is this research valuable for impacting the micro-level policies within the language community?

1 Policy versus Practice

Peruvian linguistic and cultural diversity has been and remains a major challenge for the Peruvian state. The ethnolinguistic proposal of The National Institute of Development of Andean, Amazonian and AfroPeruvian Peoples of Perú (INDEPA, 2010) recognized the existence of 77 ethnic groups in Perú and 68 languages from 16 ethnolinguistic families. It is in this ethnolinguistic-complex context that several educational remixes have been implemented that promote bilingual models between Spanish and one or more Indigenous languages in rural areas, but these have failed to reflect the core ideal of democratic practices in education because of the low level of participation in curriculum development by local Indigenous peoples (Blanco, 2003; Kenfield, 2020; Supa Huaman, 2002; Tubino, 2015; Valdiviezo & Valdiviezo, 2008). The Ever-evolving Intercultural Policies

Due to the large Quechua population in Perú, approximately 4 million of the more than 30 million Peruvians, the Peruvian government’s intentions have been to strengthen Quechua–Spanish bilingualism in the country. In reality, schooling in Perú radiates from a series of reforms that do not genuinely align with Quechua speakers’ needs. Even though interculturality has been incorporated explicitly into policies directing Peruvian bilingual education, several authors have criticized the use of the term ‘interculturality’ in the education policies of the 1990s because it does not spell out reform (Castro & Yamada, 2010; Cuenca et al., 2015; Tubino, 2015; Valdiviezo & Valdiviezo, 2008). These authors consider interculturality to be an element of multiculturalism that retains the idea of cultures as separate entities based on difference. The philosophy of difference leads to compensatory policies and policies of inclusion by certain groups. These policies then maintain the power relations that are in force between these groups (Rengifo Vasquez, 2004; Tubino, 2015; Walsh, 2009; Yataco, 2012). This reproduction of power relations becomes even clearer in Peruvian Education Law of 2003: La interculturalidad, que asume como riqueza la diversidad cultural, étnica y lingüística del país, y encuentra en el reconocimiento y respeto a las diferencias, así como en el mutuo conocimiento y actitud de 3

4

Part 1: Zooming into Context

aprendizaje del otro, sustento para la convivencia armónica y el intercambio entre las diversas culturas del mundo. – Peruvian General Education Law 2003, Article 8

The translation: Interculturality ... sees the country’s cultural, ethnic and linguistic diversity as richness and regards the recognition of and respect for difference, as well as knowledge about and an attitude of appreciation of others as the basis for living together in harmony and for interaction between the world’s different cultures.

While two Quechua-speaking congresswomen – Hilaria Supa Huaman and Maria Sumire – requested in 2006 the passage of a bill for the Use and Preservation of Indigenous Language in Perú, congresswoman Martha Hildebrandt criticized the lack of importance of such a bill and expressed her racism and linguicism against the congresswomen in the national media.1 Once again, interculturality as a harmonizing tool remained a sterile discourse over the microdynamics of race and language in Perú. In higher education, the intercultural approach was added in 2017 to the Peruvian university policy (Ley N 302020, Ley Universitaira). This intercultural approach was included in the guidelines for quality higher education as follows: El enfoque intercultural propone reconocer el valor y respeto de la diversidad de costumbres, tradiciones y cosmovisiones de las diversas etnias culturales en el diseño de políticas públicas y en el establecimiento del diálogo intercultural en condiciones de igualdad. Al mismo tiempo, el enfoque ayuda en la construcción de una ciudadanía intercultural. Una política pública con enfoque intercultural debe ser integral, transversal, institucional, generar reconocimiento de diversidad y diferencias; además, generar las condiciones para la articulación de la diversidad en condiciones de igualdad.

– MINEDU, 2017 The translation: The intercultural approach proposes to recognize the value and respect of the diversity of customs, traditions and worldviews of the diverse cultural ethnic groups in the design of public policies and in the establishment of intercultural dialogue under conditions of equality. At the same time, the approach helps in the construction of an intercultural citizenship. A public policy with an intercultural approach must be comprehensive, transversal, institutional, generate recognition of diversity and differences; in addition to generating the conditions for the articulation of diversity under conditions of equality.

Importantly, while intercultural policies exist in higher education in Perú, they seem not to promote asset views and practices toward diverse students. For example, the National Scholarship Program of Perú (PRONABEC, Spanish acronym), which is the primary entity that distributes fi nancial support to eligible Indigenous students, includes the following tenants: social justice in education and pride in multicultural diversity

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(PRONABEC, 2013: 7). Still existing is the reproduction of deficit views to Quechua and to other diverse communities that displace QuechuaQuechua people from higher education. By extension, intercultural Quechua–Spanish bilingual initiatives that exclude critical dialogue about hegemonic practices threaten to reproduce the historical colonial and postcolonial stigmatization of indigenous Quechua heritage among the Andean community at large. Not having Indigenous leaders and professionals to co-construct policies and practices that serve their real needs reproduces oppressive forces. Oppression of Quechua populations entails more than social discrimination, which has been brutal. Here is one pertinent example: From 1980 to 2000, more than 50,000 Quechua people were killed in the worst episode of violence in modern Perú. For more than 75% of the 70,000 casualties during that internal confl ict, Quechua was their mother language (Truth and Reconciliation Commission, 2003). During that period, the terrorist group Shining Path exploited and abused peasant Quechua peoples, and the military forces exterminated Quechua peoples because they could not understand their Quechua language and thus treated them all as terrorists. This violence revealed a drastic need for radical changes in Peruvian society. In 2004, the report of the Peruvian Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) named ethnic and cultural discrimination as one of the most significant dimensions of political violence during the decades of terrorism in the latter part of the 20th century. In an attempt at reconciliation, several policies were developed to encourage inclusion of diverse Peruvian populations in future policymaking, particularly in education. Intercultural Bilingual Education (IBE) emerged as one strategy for Indigenous students to access the attributes of the dominant society without losing their own culture or language. General Education Law No. 28044, Article Seven, states that interculturalism is one of the principles on which Peruvian bilingual education is based; this general principle applies to all populations, not just to Indigenous populations. However, several authors (Ansion & Villacorta, 2004; Rengifo Vasquez, 2004; Tubino, 2015; Zavala, 2011) have reported the absence of the actual practice of intercultural education in higher education. In this framework of intercultural education, a project of affirmative action funded by the Ford Foundation, called the Hatun Ñan program, was launched in 2005. The Hatun Ñan program aimed to incorporate intercultural citizenship in affirmative action programs in the Universidad San Cristóbal of Huamanga (USCH) in Ayacucho. Intercultural citizenship, coined by Byram (2008), is the ‘combination of skills, knowledge, and attitudes necessary for a person to engage in social action based on an awareness of other perspectives on the objects and aims of that action, where “other” refers to different cultural groups normally with different languages’ (Wagner & Byram, 2017: 1)

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This university is located in an area with a large Quechua-speaking population, and is known as the site of the founding of the ‘Shining Path’ guerilla movement founded by the university provost Efrain Morote Best. After two years, in 2007, this program was launched in Cusco at the Universidad San Antonio Abad del Cusco (UNSAAC). In Cusco, the intercultural approach was defi ned as the practice that recognizes as worthy knowledge both the Indigenous communities and the college community. Here are the words of deceased professor Marco Villasante, former coordinator of the Hatun Ñan program at the Universidad San Antonio Abad del Cusco: Las comunidades campesinas son centros donde se han generado tecnologías que deben recuperarse. Las comunidades no pueden verse simplemente como entidades folklóricas. La interculturalidad implica el reconocimiento mutuo de las partes. The translation: Peasant communities are centers where technologies have been generated that must be recovered. Communities cannot simply be seen as folk entities. Interculturality implies mutual recognition of the parties. – Caceres, 2011, 00:12:30

These two universities had in common the largest population of self-identified Quechua students; therefore, the core principle driving the Hatun Ñan programs was to strengthen Indigenous intercultural citizenship, deliver a series of workshops in intercultural-related topics and provide academic support. After 2015, the Ford Foundation discontinued its support of these Hatun Ñan programs. I have questioned why the Universidad Nacional Micaela Bastidas de Apurímac was not selected by the Ford Foundation because Apurimac is historically the region with the greatest number of Quechua speakers. The regions of Ayacucho and Cusco are in the southern mountain range of Perú (see Figure 1.1). They are relatively close together (Google, n.d.); however, the Andean Mountains complicate travel and communication. As a note, I need to mention that in Ayacucho and Cusco, the linguistic diversity is not limited to Quechua and Spanish – more than 11 other Indigenous languages are spoken in those areas. Another affirmative action in place in Perú has been Beca 18, 2 which literally translates to Scholarship 18. In 2012, after approving the bill for Beca 18, the government of Perú sponsored Beca 18, beginning in 2015, to support students from Indigenous communities in the country. From 2012 to 2015, the Beca 18 program has benefited 45,079 students. Among them, 72.5% have benefited from the ordinary modality and 2% from the EIB (Intercultural Bilingual Education) (PRONABEC, 2015). Both programs, Beca 18 and Hatun Ñan, have been guided by inclusive ideology, which promotes access, maintenance and completion of higher education of students from social groups in a situation of exclusion and vulnerability. Although this inclusive ideology supports practices that

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Figure 1.1 Google Maps directions for driving from Ayacucho, Perú, to Cusco, Perú (Google, n.d.)

increase access to higher education to Indigenous college populations, its inclusiveness does not support the knowledge that students can bring from their communities. The limitation of the inclusive ideology might explain the struggle with retention of these students, who struggle to build a sense of belonging discussed in recent literature (Anaya & Leon, 2015; Kirby et al., 2020). In addition, intercultural practices within these affirmative action programs seem to be interpreted as fi xed, decontextualized, cultural expressions of Indigenous cultures, such as songs, dances, foods and tales to be learned to consume without unpacking their meanings nor recognizing their contributions to knowledge. College cultural climate is critical for achieving the goal of these affirmative actions that aim to significantly increase the graduation rates of Indigenous students who historically have remained in the margins of higher education. It seems that affi rmative action programs promote inclusiveness via monolingual practices of assimilation, which work against intercultural practices of Indigenous communities. There is a need for a critical interculturality (Walsh, 2008), which problematizes the inherited pattern of racialization. This type of interculturality does not solely focus on cultural differences, but on colonial differences that intersect between cultures. Sociolinguistic Contradictions: From Attitudinal Research to Language Ideological Explorations in the Educational Experience

Before looking at more field research, it is worth briefly explaining the difference between the sociolinguistic research shift from language attitudes to language ideologies. Language attitudes are defi ned as ‘any

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affective, cognitive, or behavioral index of evaluative reaction towards different language varieties or speakers’ (Ryan et al., 1982: 7). Language attitudes research has helped us to observe the attitudes toward a language and its speakers, often disregarding the role of larger societal context. Rather, language ideologies – first conceptualized in the anthropological linguistics as ‘representations, whether explicit or implicit, that construe the intersection of language and human beings in a social world’ (Woolard, 1998: 3) and later discussed from a poststructuralist approach (Pavlenko, 2002) as sociocultural situated – help us to understand the non-stable nature of affective views of language and its link to larger societal processes. By necessity, then, this study recognizes that language ideologies are ‘context sensitive’ (Pavlenko, 2002: 284). Further, this study acknowledges the language ideologies engrained in racialization processes (Flores & Rosa, 2015; Zavala, 2011) which are part of the linguistic coloniality (Garcés, 2007) and decoloniality (Rivera Cusicanqui, 2012). In 1973, during the emergence of bilingual education policies in Perú, research on attitudes about Quechua language was utilized to assess the social status based on language. In collaboration with the Peruvian government, Wölck conducted a seminal work regarding language attitudes in several regions in Perú. The inherent dichotomous analysis prompted Wölck to assess attitudes toward Quechua and Spanish through binary lenses of Hispanicist and Indigenist. Hispanicist promoted the colonial hispanization project, and Indigenist promoted retention of the Quechua language (Ryan et al., 1982). Wölck’s research revealed that, as bilingualism increased, the perceived differences of status between speakers of Spanish or Quechua decreased. Further, Wölck postulated, ‘Minority languages evoke more positive personal affective reactions, majority languages more instrumental institutional values’ (Wölck, 2003: 36). This last conclusion becomes problematic because it suggests that the destiny of languages such as Quechua is of limited value in higher education. To further explore these ideas and document the language attitudes of college students who might challenge this potential limitation, a survey study was conducted in 2016 (Kenfield et  al., 2018) in Cusco at The National University of San Antonio Abad del Cusco. It is important to note that in the particular region of Cusco, one of the 24 departments (regions) in Perú, Quechua is still the mother language of more than half of its population. The Cusco region hosts eight indigenous languages: one Andean (Quechua) and seven Amazonian (Ashaninka, Kakinte, Nanti, Matsiguenga, Yine, Yora and Wachipaeri) (Pilares Casas, 2008). The National University San Antonio Abad of Cusco (UNSAAC) was created in 1692 (Ortiz, 2006). Currently, the university counts with 21 faculties, 37 professional careers and 29 academic departments; while traditional majors are offered, majors such as linguistic and sociology have never been offered at this university. In regards to Quechua, the only data

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available in the UNSAAC’s annual statistical reports regarding Quechua students relate to ethnicity identification. No information exists about their mother language. Motivated by these limited data on the mother language of college students in Cusco, Yexy Huillca, Wenceslao Huayllani and I conducted a survey study (n = 331) in the fall of 2016. We found that more than 32.29% claimed Quechua as their mother tongue. Interestingly, we also found that 3.14% of the students surveyed declared that Quechua–Spanish bilingualism was their fi rst language and that for 64.57% of them, Spanish was their mother tongue. This survey also gave us an overview of college students’ linguistic use and attitudes regarding Quechua. The fi ndings revealed an overwhelming positive attitude toward the Quechua language, a fi nding that was not compatible with the language use of Quechua among college students. The Hispanization project in secondary education surfaces as a potential root cause for this language attrition by the Andean college students. These students seem to be replicating certain hegemonic language ideologies indoctrinated in them in secondary education. The erasure of the Quechua language is alarming in that Andean college students cease speaking in Quechua even with their relatives. The survey data helped us recognize the alarming lack of opportunities students have to practice their Quechua–Spanish bilingual skills on the college campus (Figures 1.2 and 1.3).

100

100.0%

99.5%

100.0%

Yes No

Percent

80

60

40

20

0.5%

0 Quechua

Spanish First Lanuguage

Quechua-Spanish

Figure 1.2 Responses to the survey question: Since you became a college student, do you speak Quechua with your professors and college personnel?

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Results of our survey guided our planning for analysis of students’ use of and attitudes toward Quechua. Of the 331 respondents, only one who identified his mother language as Spanish declared that he spoke Quechua with professors and college personnel. Further, no student whose mother language was Quechua or Quechua–Spanish declared that they spoke Quechua with faculty and university personnel (Figure 1.2). Drawing on the above results, students whose mother language was Quechua spoke the least Quechua at the university. This overall scenario suggests that there are both minimal opportunities to use Quechua at the university and that Quechua speakers were practicing language hygiene (Zavala, 2011). To further explore the use of Quechua in the university, we included questions related to the students’ use with classmates and faculty members. Interestingly, very few students, regardless of mother language, spoke Quechua with their classmates (Figure 1.3). Finding that more than 30% of the student body declared having Quechua as their mother language, Yexy, Wences and I assumed that most would speak it with some of their classmates. Apparently, our assumption was inaccurate (Figure 1.3). This result prompted us to come up with more questions about why students were choosing not to use Quechua in the university and whether the university was providing sufficient opportunities for these students to be engaged in Quechua practices. Will these future professionals contribute to resolving the inequities of access to public systems for the Quechua peoples or will they endorse the status quo of Spanish-dominant communication? Why is this 30% of the student

100

99.1%

Yes No

98.6% 88.9%

Percent

80

60

40

20 11.1%

0

0.9%

Quechua

1.4%

Spanish First Lanuguage

Quechua-Spanish

Figure 1.3 Responses to the survey question: Since you became a college student, do you speak Quechua with your classmates?

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population who enter college as Quechua–Spanish bilinguals not being encouraged to sustain their use of Quechua? Because of inconsistent experiences related to language attitudes and practices of college students in Cusco toward Quechua, it is worth looking back at qualitative studies of language ideologies of students within the context of Peruvian social inclusion policies in higher education. UNSAAC has exercised social inclusion policies since 1995; UNSAAC’s program of educational inclusion aimed at providing academic support to students of Quechua, Aymara, and Amazonian origin who were admitted to college (Villasante, 2007). From 2003 to 2015, UNSAAC managed a program called Hatun Ñan, which was underwritten by the Ford Foundation through its Pathways to Higher Education Program. Hatun Ñan, which in Quechua translates literally in English to ‘grand path,’ was an affirmative action program that strived to reverse discrimination by developing a support system for selected groups or discriminated sectors that had inherited social exclusion. Hatun Ñan began in Huamanga in 2007. The cities of Cusco and Huamanga are alike in that both have large populations of Quechua peoples alongside indigenous scholars. In 2009, professors in the Hatun Ñan programs of UNSAAC and the Universidad Nacional San Cristobal de Huamanga (UNSCH) formed a research team based on a proposal from the Pontificia Universidad Catolica del Perú (PUCP). The PUCP research team formed an interdisciplinary and interuniversity research laboratory. Their goal was to assess and reflect on the implications of the Hatun Ñan’s outcomes from the perspective of intercultural citizenship (Programa Hatun Ñan, 2011). The recurrent responses to language ideologies of the participating Andean and Amazonian college students reflected a perceived standard language ideology and linguistic discrimination. Indigenous participants at UNSAAC expressed their desire to please the general Spanish-speaking college system. These students seemed to have accepted that standardized Spanish was the language of the academy and of progress. They spoke bilingual Spanish (Escobar, 2001), which transfers linguistic properties from Quechua to Spanish, relics of the fi rst contact of Spanish with the Quechua language. One particular linguistic property of the Andean Spanish is the pronunciation of the sounds of the Quechua vowels when using the sounds of Spanish vowels. This particular phonological aspect is known by Peruvians as mote. The term mote is rooted in a widespread stereotype in Perú that identifies the people of Andean origin as ignorant of proper pronunciation of Spanish vowel sounds. In addition, mote has been explicated as a marker of the language racialization sustained by Zavala (2011) which replicates the view of mote speakers as inferior to the commonly spoken Spanish variety in Perú. Andean college students at UNSAAC experience recurrent microaggressions or discriminatory acts based on the students’ mote. These students believe that their mother tongue, Quechua, links to their inability to

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speak correct Spanish. Discriminatory acts from monolingual Spanish college students reinforce this ideology and help explain the practice of language hygiene (Zavala, 2011) observed in many statements from the students interviewed: It’s our own problem, right? We speak Quechua; as children we grow up speaking Quechua quite a bit, and when we get here, the mote comes out, and there are some accents too. But trying to get rid of all of those disadvantagesthat sometimes put us in a bad spot, right? It leaves us out of place with everyone else (Zavala, 2011: 397). Sometimes I confuse the words, vowels, then I mix a vowel i for an e . . . and . . . they tell you, ‘You must speak well.’ . . . They say it to you in an indirect way; they start mixing the vowels on purpose. . . . They start laughing. . . . They tell you so abruptly, ‘I do not come from a family of cholos. I do not come from a family of farmers’ (Programa Hatun Ñan, 2011: 32).

The narratives from the Quechua students refer to the constant reinforcement of the inferiority of their bilingual Spanish. This linguistic discrimination causes Andean students to avoid using their Indigenous language to avoid linguistic shaming. ‘I prefer not to speak Quechua, because if I speak it my classmates will ask where I come from. I avoid it because it’s a disadvantage to know Quechua’ (Zavala, 2011: 397). Few Quechua or bilingual Quechua–Spanish speakers use their native voice on campus even though national policies promote inclusion of Indigenous practices in higher education. One reason for this behavior is that bilingual SpanishQuechua practices on campuses remain largely symbolic even though affi rmative action initiatives such as the Universidad Nacional San Antonio Abad del Cusco-Amazonian and Quechua municipalities, the Hatun Ñan program of the Ford Foundation, and the Peruvian Beca 18 scholarship program could have helped Quechua students access higher education and facilitate their academic experience. Based on the minimal use of Quechua on campus, however, these initiatives have not facilitated activities toward the maintenance of and promotion of the practice of Quechua on campus (Kenfield et al., 2018; Villasante, 2007). Thus far, this review of the literature highlighted major research on language attitudes and ideologies that either intersect or compete. Research reveals contradictory positions of Andean college students. College students seem to favor the maintenance of Quechua, yet they choose to suppress their Quechua speaking in college due to discriminatory practices. To better understand bilingual Quechua–Spanish language practices and ideologies, this book strives to extend the discussion by presenting insights on how Quechua–Spanish bilingual college students selfanalyze their practices; therefore, this inquiry utilizes participatory research methodologies.

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Notes (1) Marketingbuz. (2010, November 4). La Tia Martha Hildebrant chanca duro a la congresista. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHkPV9NwBNU (2) Within the Beca 18 program are scholarship modalities: Ordinary, for young people living in poverty or extreme poverty; Vraem, for young people residing in the 57 districts of the Vraem area; Huallaga, for young people of 25 districts of the Huallaga area; Repaired, for young victims of the internal armed confl ict; EIB, for youth who speak a native language; and Amazonian Native Communities, for young members and residents of native Amazonian communities. Note: Vraem, the abbreviated acronym for the Valley of the Apurímac, Ene, and Mantaro rivers, is an area of such high child malnutrition and poverty that the government of Peru selected it in 2007 to implement its national strategy for growth program.

2 Decolonial Participatory Approach in Sociolinguistic Andean Studies

The Andean sociolinguistic literature thus far has documented subtractive language practices rooted in the racialization of the Quechua language found by a plethora of methodologies (Coronel-Molina, 2008; Howard, 2007; Manley, 2008; Wölck, 1983; Zavala, 2011). Undoubtedly, this research has made valuable contributions in language revitalization research exposure of linguicism and in advancing higher education policies (e.g., the implementation of guidelines of the intercultural approach in the intercultural universities in Perú; MINEDU, 2017), yet I believe that decolonial participatory research in Andean Studies can activate forces within the community for social change that draw on Indigenous knowledge. This book illustrates a different research route to work with bilingual Quechua people: by coupling community-based participatory research (CBPR) amid a framework of decolonial thinking, this book strives to offer a view of sociolinguistic ideologies that either intersect or compete with the mobilization of Quechua in higher education. This exploratory inquiry from a decolonial perspective utilizes participatory research methodologies. Decolonial thinking provided the CBPR team the lenses for visualizing the knowledge, identities and practices that have been marginalized by a hegemonic system. In particular, I used the analytics of decoloniality (Maldonado-Torres, 2016) and the Andean concept of chi’xi (decolonial gesture) presented by Rivera Cusicanqui (2017) to reflect on and analyze how Quechua–Spanish bilingual students identify colonial and decolonial ideologies that are linked to language ideologies that impact their bilingualism in higher education. The Researcher’s Identity, Subjectivities and Positionality

As a participatory research advocate, I fi rst must unpack my identity, subjectivities and positionality that motivate and influence my research activity. I will begin by identifying myself as a Surandina, South Andean woman of Quechua heritage. Where I come from, the term Surandina/o is 14

Decolonial Participatory Approach in Sociolinguistic Andean Studies

15

Figure 2.1 Great-grandparents: Maria Palomino Mora and Mariano Vasquez Loayza. Family picture, unknown date

used to refer to people who live in the southern Andean mountain range and have Quechua heritage. I grew up in the Cusco region of Perú where most of the population lives in rural areas and where Quechua is the mother language of half of its total population. I must mention that the term Andean is most used to refer to people of Quechua heritage; therefore, in this book, I will follow that tradition. In 1980, I was born in Cusco’s capital city and grew up there and in the rural Sacred Valley. As a child, I heard both Quechua and Spanish languages; I was a passive bilingual due to the lack of bilingual models in public schools in Cusco, coupled with the preference of my bilingual relatives to speak to me in Spanish. Their preference for speaking Spanish stemmed from the long history of marginalization of Quechua peoples. Bilingual Cusco natives chose to use Spanish because it was the only language of social mobility: This choice came at the expense of losing their indigenous languages. As I grew, I would hear my bilingual mother and grandparents speak Quechua to my great-grandparents Maria and Mariano (Figure 2.1) and other relatives and friends in Coya, a small town in the Sacred Valley. I remember my great-grandparents speaking to me in Quechua, which I did not understand most of the time, but they would manage to communicate their warm actions. In Cusco city, the Quechua language I heard among my relatives was mainly when my grandparents would speak with my greatgrandmother Juana or when going to the farmer’s markets in Cusco. Awichuykunapaq misk’i takiyniy Kuyakuyniykikumanta pacha, q’unchapi, puka nina kallpayuq kasqanta munakuyta yacharayku.

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Rimayninmanta pacha qichwa simiq yachayninta, yachayta atirqayku Balconninkunamanta pacha kawsayniykuq kallpanta (ruphariyninta) purichiyta atiyku Kinuwata, sarata, hawasta imatam mana quwarankikuchu Wayrapi paykunata uyarini, qhinakunaq takiyninpi tarinakuyku. Canto para mis bisabuelos Desde sus regazos hemos aprendido a apreciar el ímpetu del rojo fuego del fogón. Desde sus gargantas nos hemos sumergido en la sabiduría del Quechua. Desde sus balcones hemos ajustado las temperaturas de nuestras vidas La quinua, el maíz, las habas ¿Qué no nos han entregado? En la brisa los oigo, entre las quenas nos reencontramos. Song for my great-grandparents From their laps, we have learned to appreciate the impetus red fi re of the clay stove. From theirs throats, we have immersed ourselves in the wisdom of Quechua. From their balconies, we have adjusted the temperatures of our lives. Quinoa, corn, beans, what haven’t they given us? In the breeze, I hear them, between the quenas, we meet again.1

In my childhood, Quechua persisted within my social and ecological landscapes, not only through my relatives and community but also through the music of my father, Alberto Gamarra Zuniga (who passed on October 2020). He would directly initiate in me the appreciation of Andean music, which is created mainly with Quechua or Aymara wind instruments. A song of his in Quechua and Spanish was titled Qalachaki; in English; that translates to Barefoot. I still remember: ‘Qalachaki mala traza, ¿dónde estás? Qalachaki malapata ¿Para dónde vas? [Qalachaki bad trace, where are you? Qalachaki badfeet, where are you going?’ This song refers to the work of young people, often barefoot or wearing Andean sandals, who work around the traditional markets in the city of Cusco. The city of Cusco is supported by the labor of migrant Quechua-speakers from the provinces and rural areas of the South. Low-paying jobs are historically carried out by Quechua people such as my maternal greatgrandmother Juana, who in her youth was a laundress in Cusco for wealthy families. My relatives, like many poverty-ridden South Andean people, would feel pride in their Quechua heritage, which was related to their Inka past. However, they put off ideals toward social justice for Quechua people and focused on immediate socioeconomic stability, obtained primarily by earning a college degree with courses taught only in Spanish. Recognition of Quechua amid the sociopolitical context of the late 1980s and early 1990s was impacted by the leadership of Daniel Estrada Perez (1947–2003) in Cusco. He served three terms as mayor of the Cusco region and was admired for changing the linguistic landscape in Cusco

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city as well as for reopening streets that had Inka constructions and were near governmental offices, private institutions, or Catholic churches. Inca Roca street (Figure 2.2) was named after one of the Inka leaders who built those surroundings; it had been previously known as a closed, private property of the archbishop’s palace. During Estrada Perez’s terms, several streets in Cusco were given their former Quechua names, such as Haukaypata, which translates as Sacred Place or Crying Place (Angles Vargas, 1998). The Spanish called it Plaza de Armas, literally Weapons Square, but more congenially translated to Parade Square or Parade Ground. Certain street names carry bloody histories, such as Mucchuiqata (Hillside of Sorrow), known by its Spanish name as Calle de la Amargura (Street of Sorrow). This street name reflects the injuries and death that indigenous peoples suffered when transporting enormous rocks downhill from Inka temples to build the new colonial buildings in the main square (Haukaypata) of Cusco for the colonizers. Those were not the only reforms that called visible attention to the Quechua language in the city. Constantly protesting, the farmers, peasants, teachers and shop owners up and down these streets denounced the Spanish language and the marginalization of Quechua people in the region. One example of this marginalization was that even though Quechua is an official language of Perú, Quechua peoples have limited participation in Perú’s education, health services and economy because of institutionalized discriminatory practices and top-down resolution of issues without local input (Blanco, 2003; Kenfield, 2020; Mariategui, 1944; Sanborn, 2012; Supa Huaman, 2002; Valdiviezo, 2009).

Figure 2.2 With Claudia Cuba Huamaní on the left by the Inca Roca street. Y. Kenfield, 2016

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After I completed my degree in business management and tourism at the San Antonio Abad University (Universidad San Antonio Abad del Cusco, UNSAAC) in 2003 to secure a job, I enrolled in anthropology to satisfy my yearnings for social justice. As an undergraduate student of anthropology at UNSAAC, I decided to study the Quechua language in an external language academy because, at that time, Quechua was not offered in the language center of UNSAAC. After working as a naturalist guide, park ranger volunteer and novice ethnographer in Perú, I left Cusco in 2006 to work in the United States at Glacier National Park in Montana. Thirteen years after my graduation from UNSAAC and 11 years after leaving the Cusco region, I reconnected with its campus and its community, particularly through the research partners presented in this book. After working as an immigration law paralegal and then for nearly a decade as a bilingual teacher in the American Southwest in New Mexico and becoming a mother of twins (T’ika and Chaski), I decided to pursue a doctoral degree to engage again in social research, this time in the field of bilingual education. In my experience as a novice scholar at the University of New Mexico, I found the positivist paradigm of research education too narrow for the complexities of bilingual education because it takes the scientific-natural knowledge as a reference to model the objectivity, neutrality, universality and certainty of knowledge. This personal reflective process relates to my self-questioning the influence of nonWestern traditions with my personal stand and positionality as a novice researcher and Quechua scholar in North–South dialogues. At the University of New Mexico, I was fortunate to have discussions with selfidentified Chicana, Diné, Kichwa, Taos, Tewa and many other Indigenous scholars who were interested about new trends in educational research. Reflecting on my professional identity and my upbringing in Cusco led me to learn about a collaborative approach to research called CBPR. In 2015, I enrolled in the summer institute Community-Based Participatory Research and Critical and Indigenous Methodologies program at the University of New Mexico. During my participation in the institute, I felt that the CBPR approach aligned with the collaborative and emancipatory actions promoted by Andean activists. During both my undergraduate time at Cusco in Perú and during my doctoral studies at the University of New Mexico, I constantly reflected on the decades during which social researchers explored Indigenous2 knowledge and practices, yet decisive input by Indigenous peoples in the research process has remained minimal. While well-intentioned, this non-participatory approach to research about Quechua peoples, cultures and languages has often reproduced asymmetric relationships between subject and expert, enabling a prescribed set of research that obscures Indigenous epistemologies. It was in 2016 when I began a CBPR journey with UNSAAC students – and it is that journey on which I elaborate in Chapter 3 of this book.

Decolonial Participatory Approach in Sociolinguistic Andean Studies

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Choice of Methodology

Community-based participatory approach places the participants’ perspectives at the core of a study and strives to disrupt vertical power relations between those perspectives and me, an investigator. A major reason to choose CBPR was its guiding principle of reciprocity that resonates with Andean epistemologies and that aligns with CBPR because it promotes access to local knowledge and relies on partnering with community members to develop mutually meaningful communal contributions. Although CBPR aims to engage community members in greater levels of participation, attaining true equality is often very difficult if not impossible. As Savin-Baden and Major have stated, ‘[W]e suggest that mutual participation and true collaboration are rarely really possible, excepting between those of equal status’ (Savin-Baden & Major, 2013: 271). Cognizant of this potential inequity in CBPR that might mist flavor interpretations of any results, I decided to use the photovoice methodology because it urges the involvement of participants in coding for themes as well as the dissemination of results. Community-based participatory research with photovoice

CBPR is not a single methodology; rather, it is an approach that could involve different quantitative and qualitative methods that are adaptable to researchers’ needs (Israel et al., 1998). CBPR’s ontological paradigm embraces a participative reality: It relies on an epistemology of experiential and participative knowing informed by critical subjectivity and participatory transaction (Israel et  al., 2012). Those ontological and epistemological stances speak to similar views from the Andean locus of enunciation. Reciprocity guides and resonates within Andean epistemologies (Flores Ochoa, 1988). Because CBPR incorporates reciprocal dialogues, it promotes access to the local knowledge by encouraging partnerships with community members to develop mutually meaningful communal contributions. Moreover, Indigenous scholars are an emergent intellectual community that is adopting this research orientation as a response to disrupt the historic, inequitable research relationships between academy and Indigenous communities that generated mistrust (Belone et al., 2016; Kenfield, 2020; Rasmus, 2014; Winder, 2019). Although CBPR emerged as a result of the concern of health researchers and practitioners in combating health disparities in minoritized communities, it has recently gained attention in social sciences and language research. In general, community-based approaches to language research and intervention have relied on the critical role of partnering with community members and organizations to better understand the visions of language users to advance their language equity path (McCarty

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et al., 2009; Lee, 2009). For instance, the decision to use communitybased participatory scholarship with Indigenous communities was because ‘researchers have shifted from viewing language policy and planning as a top-down process to suggesting the imperative for engaging local communities in the dialogues and development of languagerelated programmes’ (Lin & Yudaw, 2013: 436). In addition, community-based methodologies aim to improve the often vertical and colonizing relationship between sociolinguistic and anthropologicallinguistic research and the speech community we write about. Disrupting this vertical line requires time to nurture and strengthen relationships that allow the academy-community partners to recognize their strengths – such as Indigenous language as a source of pride versus shame (McCarty et al., 2009). One goal for researchers involved in CBPR is to use methods for dissemination of fi ndings that are easily accessible to community members and the public. CBPR scholars value a format that has the potential to engage the community in learning about the research fi ndings. Therefore, CBPR scholars have suggested photovoice as a preferred participatory method for youth engagement and data dissemination, which could better engage the community. Wang and Burris (1994, 1997) proposed photovoice as a method for marginalized peoples to problematize their experiences and to expand on the social and political forces that influenced those experiences. These authors drew on the Freirean orientation to achieve critical consciousness (Freire, 1974). Similar to Freire’s use of images as catalysts for critical collective dialogue, photovoice pictures serve to engage participants in germane dialogues and discussions (Latz, 2017). Because the level of group participation is paramount in photovoice studies, group discussions are an essential component to engage in critical discussions during all stages of the photovoice process: problematizing the social reality a community wants to transform, picture-taking of those realities or metaphors that depict them, and preparation of a photovoice exposition led by the community members. The midstage of the photovoice process resides in the photovoice participants’ photo production and interpretation of their own photographs; participants, not an investigator, analyze and interpret their photos. The photovoice participants in this study recorded their interpretations in the form of a brochure (Appendix 3). I recorded their oral interpretation as data for further analysis, which I completed individually. Because the level of group participation is critical, group discussions commonly start with a look at all photographs. After selecting representative images, each participant shares their interpretation of their own photographs as they relate to the topic under study. During these discussions about the meanings of the photographs, facilitators often use the SHOWeD method (Wang, 1999: 188) to engage photovoice participants in deep

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discussions about their photographs. The SHOWeD method stands for the following: S: H: O: W: E: D:

What do you See? What is really Happening here? How does this relate to Our lives? Why does this situation, concern or strength exist? How could this photo be used to educate others? What can we Do about it?

Photovoice participants use these questions to engage in dialogues directed to identify issues as well as to discuss potential solutions. After photoelicited discussions about community problems, strengths and potential action toward social change, participants draft captions that encapsulate the main message of each selected photograph. While photo-elicited discussions are an important component of the photovoice process, they are one of several components of the photovoice methodology process. I call attention to this because often studies titled as photovoice do not necessarily accomplish the participant-led photovoice exposition component (Catalani, 2009). A photovoice exposition opens the opportunity for the photovoice participants to reach out to community members and to any stakeholders in the community to express their vision and dialogues about action-oriented steps toward social transformation. The fi nal step in the photovoice process is to ‘plan with participants a format to share photographs and stories with policymakers or community leaders’ (Wang, 2006: 152). Latz (2017) called this last step of the process a ‘presentation.’ These exhibits are expositions that engage others in a critical dialogue elicited by the photographs. Ideally, during this photovoice presentation, the policymakers and other community leaders are present to hear not only the identified issues but also to hear the potential solutions recommended by photovoice participants. Photovoice exhibitions can be either generally educational or more art based and aesthetic (Latz, 2017). Organizers are encouraged to stage all photovoice exhibitions in a ‘public’ location, because the ultimate goal is to engage community members in systemic social change. Latz (2017) and Wang (2006) agreed that holding a photovoice exhibition in a community public space reaffirms the public issues under discussion, which is perhaps a good reflection of the Freirean theoretical underpinning of photovoice. In the digital age, the location of a photovoice exhibition could be virtual, not physical. Although the photovoice process often ends with the photovoice exhibitions, CBPR requires photovoice researchers to think about photovoice exhibitions as the main effort ‘to capitalize on increased awareness as a means for creating action leading to local change’ (Strack et al., 2010: 635). Further, for CBPR scholars, it is highly important to balance

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‘expectations with local conditions for change’ (Strack et al., 2010: 635). This reflection relates to the CBPR focus of building partnerships for sustainability. Once a photovoice study is completed, the community partners should be able to carry out an agenda and any further actions needed for tangible social change. Although photovoice is being used in educational research, in the specific field of Indigenous languages, there is no research with this methodology. In the field of Indigenous education research, the work of Natahee Winder, a Diné-Cui Ui Ticutta-Nuucic scholar, incorporated the photovoice methodology to explore how Indigenous descendants of boarding and residential school survivors created ‘a space where hearts meet to heal, talk, and share how they feel about the ongoing effects of colonialism’ (Winder, 2019: 141). In my fieldwork with diverse Andean college students, photovoice facilitated the sharing of their experiences as bilingual Quechua–Spanish students – in contrast to standard practices on their campus that limited Quechua linguistic and cultural practices in higher education. My use of photovoice allowed me to collaborate ‘with’ the students ‘for’ their interests about implementation of Quechua–Spanish at the university as well as to explore ways to improve current, limited sociolinguistic offerings. As a mediator then, my role became collaborative rather than prescriptive, a role that encouraged students’ expressive, personal portrayals of their often-unjust situation at the university. Based on photo-elicited discussions about problems, strengths and potential action toward social change to promote Quechua in higher education, participants encapsulated the main message of each selected photograph for their photovoice expositions. Although photovoice methodology within CBPR adopts several principals for democratic praxis in research, such as cultural humility during investigations with Indigenous populations. These research practices informed by decolonial thinking expand this research to prevent obscure and disregard Indigenous ways of knowing. Decolonial thinking

Many people, including activists such as Hilaria Supa Huaman and scholars in Latin America, have been working to comprehend, memorialize and challenge the complexities of current colonial forces in Latin America. For Rivera Cusicanqui (1993), these forces were called la larga duracion del colonialismo, ‘the long-standing of colonialism.’ For Quijano (1993), such forces were colonialidad, or ‘coloniality.’ Rivera Cusicanqui and Quijano, important Andean scholars, were concerned primarily about inherited patterns of colonial domination in Latin America. Quijano explained the concept of coloniality as the socioeconomic domination of the North over the South based on a perpetuated ethno-racial structure initiated by the colonial hierarchy of the European versus non-European.

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This hierarchy gave privilege to 16th century European societies, a stratification retained as former colonies gained independence in the 19th century. Thus, decoloniality as the subject of scholarship emerged in Latin America and expanded to the United States (Maldonado-Torres, 2016; Quijano, 2000; Rivera Cusicanqui, 2012). The primary objective of decolonial thinking is to interrogate and move away from colonial thinking. Colonial thinking is understood as a superior attribution assigned to Eurocentric-based knowledge and being (Castro-Gómez & Grosfoguel, 2007; Maldonado-Torres, 2016; Quijano, 2000; Rivera Cusicanqui, 2012; Walsh, 2007). They include three constructs commonly used in decolonial studies: coloniality/decoloniality of power, coloniality/decoloniality of being and coloniality/decoloniality of knowledge (Maldonado-Torres, 2016; Quijano, 2000). Coloniality of power refers to economic and political hegemony; coloniality of being refers to gender, sexuality and subjectivity hegemony; and coloniality of knowledge focuses on the anthropocentric view of knowledge. I explored Quechua–Spanish bilingualism that occurs at the intersection of these constructs and elucidated the stigmatization and destigmatization of bilingual students’ use of their linguistic repertoire, draw on their Andean epistemologies and their agency as they ‘create, think, and act in the effort to decolonize being, knowledge, and power’ (Maldonado-Torres, 2016: 30) (Figures 2.3 and 2.4). The models also helped me understand the ways college bilingual students disrupt the colonial reproduction to favor decolonial forms of being, knowing and transforming.

ANALYTICS OF DECOLONIALITY SOME BASIC DIMENSIONS An-other structure

Decoloniality of Power

Social activism

An-other culture Damné(s) Love and Rage

More than Object(ivity)

Decoloniality Questioning/ of Knowledge Thinking/ Theorizing More than Method(ology)

Creating (art, erotics, spirituality) Other Time Other space

Decoloniality of Being

Goal’s and effects: • DECOLONALITY AS PROJECT AND ATTITUDE

• OPPOSITIONAL CONSCIOUSNESS • INTERDEPENDENCY • BUILDING THE WORLD OF YOU

Figure 2.3 Analytics of decoloniality. Maldonado-Torres (2016) in Fondation Frantz Fanon, 30

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ANALYTICS OF COLONIALITY SOME BASIC DIMENSIONS Object(ivity)

Structure

Coloniality of Power

Coloniality of Knowledge

Method(ology)

Culture

Subject(ivity) (Damné/s)

Time

Space

Coloniality of Being

Goal’s and effects: • EXPLOITATION • DOMINATION • EXPROPRATION • EXTERMINATION • NATURALIZATION OF DEATH, TORTURE AND RAPE

Figure 2.4 Analytics of decoloniality. Maldonado-Torres (2016) in Fondation Frantz Fanon, 30

Although decolonial scholars concern themselves with knowledge production that reproduces universalist and Eurocentric traditions, one cannot think naively that decolonial thinking is a theoretical framework that provides the extraordinary capacity to continually detect and resist epistemic domination. Regarding knowledge production from a decolonial aspect, the decoloniality of knowledge model helped me recognize that all possible knowledge is embodied in subjects traversed by social contradictions. Because of the intended focus to understand the constrictions of language practices and ideologies by Andean college students, which involves a flux of colonial and decolonial tensions, the models of ‘analytics of coloniality and decoloniality’ (Maldonado-Torres, 2016: 30) were useful when exploring the ‘areas involved in the production of coloniality as well as in the consistent opposition to it’ (Maldonado-Torres, 2016: 2). Particularly, my application of the coloniality/decoloniality models illuminated not only the discriminatory and exclusionary acts based on language but also documented the agency as a form of decoloniality of being and power by which the photovoice students engaged in an array of activities to battle colonial ideologies and practices. The collective acting by the photovoice participants shifted my orientation: Instead of focusing on participants as fi xed subjects under the coloniality conceptualization of being, I saw them as a flux of subjectivities and inter-subjectivities. Regarding decoloniality of knowledge, with the help of community partners, I was able to uncover Andean pedagogies that were enacted during the photovoice process. These Andean pedagogies are explained in Part 3 of this book. From a decolonial framework, knowledge is born in the struggles of those who have been victims of the injustices of capitalism, colonialism and patriarchy.

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The decolonial work of Rivera Cusicanqui was highly important during this study. Rivera Cusicanqui (2010a) utilized the Aymara term Ch’ixi as metaphor to explain decolonialities of Andean peoples. Ch’ixi, translates to ‘motley,’ that which ‘expresses the parallel coexistence of multiple cultural differences that do not extinguish but instead antagonize and complement each other’ (Rivera Cusicanqui, 2010a: 105). This ch’ixi force and its contradictions were critical during this study, particularly because photovoice participants and facilitators practiced diverse types of Quechua–Spanish bilingualism, biculturalism, trans-culturalism and translingualism. In sum, these models were helpful when exploring the colonial and decolonial forces that promote and/or impede Quechua–Spanish bilingualism on campus. Decolonial thought shed light on the link between the situated and the recursive; it provided opportunities to explore the normative structures and the dynamic interplay of coloniality with decoloniality of knowledge, being and power. Choice of View Toward Bilinguals, Biliteracy and Bilingualism

This study moves away from the conceptualization of bilingual or biliterate interpreted as someone who has equal, high degrees of bilingualism and biliteracy across languages or being two monolinguals in one (Grosjean, 1989). Rather, this study supports the idea that bilinguals and biliterates transit in a dynamic continuum, and their proficiencies shift accordingly (García, 2002; Hornberger, 2003; Valdés, 2001). In this study, bilingual college students transit within Quechua–Spanish repertoires, not necessarily in a balanced hybrid or two monolinguals. In other words, this study rejects the subtractive assimilationist view toward bilinguals, biliteracy and bilingualism that reproduces practices and ideologies that limit students’ opportunities to succeed in school by failing to authentically care about students’ intergenerational home languages and cultures (Anzaldua, 1987; García, 2002). Further and following the ch’ixi (motley) concept of Rivera Cusicanqui in the field of bilingualism helps us appreciate bilingualism as a decolonial practice: ‘El retomar el bilingüismo como una práctica descolonizadora permitirá crear un “nosotros” de interlocutores/as y productores/as de conocimiento’ (Rivera Cusicanqui, 2010a: 71) That translates in English to ‘The return to bilingualism as a decolonizing practice will allow us to create a “we” of interlocutors and producers of knowledge.’ Ch’ixi, nondicomotous nor colonial deficit views, allows to understand the visions and practices of Quechua–Spanish bilinguals whose practices are challenging monoglossic and diglossic ideologies in higher education. Rivera Cusicanqui emphasized that ch’ixi is not exclusive to a collective ‘ours’; rather, they are ‘stained, and partially inhabited by others’ (Rivera Cusicanqui, 2010a: 92). This helps to appreciate the diglossic

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ideology as a legacy of linguistic coloniality (Garcés, 2007), which places prestige to a language variety in relation to another. For instance, bilingual Spanish in comparison to the Spanish in the academic world, or one written Quechua in counterposition to any variety of oral Quechua. Ultimately, decolonial gestures ‘admit new forms of community and mixed identities, and thus enter into a creative dialogue in a process of exchanging knowledges, aesthetics, and ethnics’ (Rivera Cusicanqui, 2010a, 106). My openness to a non-fi xed ‘ours’ guided by the students’ decolonial gestures helped to better understand their voices and to avoid reduction of this study to an exclusionary ‘ours,’ an appreciation that ultimately contributed to reshaping the dynamics of photovoice discussions. Choice of Quechua Conventions

While I am cognizant of the major Quechua conventions utilized in Cusco – the three vowels promoted by the Educational Ministry and the five vowels promoted by the Municipality of Cusco region – most of the photovoice participants were not. I decided to respect the written Quechua they decided to use in their narratives included in the photovoice brochure (Appendix 3). Also I am respecting the way Wences and Yexy wrote their field notes, sometimes in Quechua or translingual (Quechua–Spanish). Quechua–Spanish translingual refers to when Quechua and Spanish was used within a single passage. Also, the Quechua language was mainly called Quechua; however, sometimes it was called Runasimi. When I was about to transcribe and translate the Quechua audio recordings of the fi rst photovoice sessions with the help of Quechua– Spanish translators, I asked the photovoice participants which they would like me to use. I showed them a sample sentence using the two most commonly used conventions, mentioned above. During the third photovoice session, I also disclosed to the participants that as an adult, I took formal written Quechua lessons with both three-vowel and five-vowel orthographies and that I was comfortable with using either or both conventions. I briefly explained the similarities and differences at the mechanical level. A few students did not care one way over another; however, most of them said they preferred the five-vowel Quechua convention. This is what Gabriel, one of the participants, said, ‘Khuyasqay panallay, prefiero pentavocal o que se transcriba manteniendo la originalidad de esta parte de la diversidad linguistica.’ The translation to English: ‘Dear sister, I prefer five-vowel [orthographic system] or that it be transcribed while maintaining the originality of this part of the linguistic diversity.’ (field note, Kenfield, March 1, 2017) Most students seemed to feel more familiar with that orthography, and some said the five-vowel convention aligned better with the conventions of the Quechua taught at the language institute of their college. In addition, I must note that many said that was the first time they had heard about the difference between those two conventions. The

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few who took Quechua lessons either at college or in elementary school mentioned to me that they learned with the five-vowel convention. They also said they saw the five-vowel system in some texts, and most of the participants reminded me that they did not learn how to formally write in Quechua. Importantly, due to their commitment to respect diversity of Quechua, including the written conventions and non-conventions of Quechua, the photovoice participants decided to title the brochure using a combination of five vowel with the glottal mark and one without it because several photovoice participants were from the Apurimac region, where the glottal mark is not a characteristic, like it is in Cusco. Notes (1) Fragment of a poem written by this author, Yuliana Kenfield, in 2013. First written in Spanish and then translated into Quechua with the help of Rafael Mercado, my Quechua teacher from Cusco in 2013. The English translation was made for the purpose of this book. (2) I am using the term Indigenous in a broad sense to refer to peoples and knowledge that have long-standing histories of colonization and hold distinct knowledge systems. Indigenous in this book does not exclude peoples who live in urban areas; I make this note because often in Peru, urban peoples are not referred to as Indigenous even if they have linguistic and cultural connections with their rural communities.

3 Andean Research Partners Within the Research Process

In this book, the word ‘Andean’ is used as it is commonly used in Perú: an Andean person is one who was born in the Andean mountainous ranges or whose ancestors were Andean of either Quechua or Aymara cultural heritage, which could include Inka heritage. Commonly in Perú, Andean people speak any or all of three languages: Spanish, Quechua or Aymara (and their diverse array of variations and bilingualisms). The Insider–Outsider Influx of an Andean Researcher

I am an alumna of the Universidad San Antonio Abad del Cusco and self-identify as Andean (or South Andean woman) with Quechua heritage. Prior to begin meaningfully reconnecting with the National University San Antonio Abad of Cusco (UNSAAC) community in 2016, I lived in the United States for 11 years. Although some researchers and Andean peoples would consider me to be an insider who holds close ties to the UNSAAC community, the academic and sociocultural experiences I have acquired in the United States position me also as an outsider. As community-based participatory research (CBPR) researchers have said: ‘Some of us may share common identities with the community; or may be “insider– outsiders” with bonds to the community based on ethnic identity, gender, sexual orientation or disability, for example, yet we are outsiders based on other factors, such as our educational attainment or a change in class status, and the privileges that they convey’ (Israel et al., 2012: 45). As an insider–outsider, I strive to contribute to an ecology of knowledges1 in my work; however, I question my own scholarly work as shaped by the intersections of class, gender, immigration status, and multilingual and ethnic identities. My socioeconomic advancements due to my decade of employment in the United States positioned me as middle class in Cusco, no longer the low-income worker I once was in Cusco. Being class conscious during the research process has helped me to continuously maintain a flexible schedule. I often found myself waiting and moving 28

Andean Research Partners Within the Research Process

29

around to accommodate to a participant’s schedule because they had temporary jobs at times. I must mention that although I was considered a low-income student at the time I was at UNSAAC, which is the largest public college where tuition is almost free to all students, I have never experienced the educational journey that photovoice participants had because I was privileged to live near the college campus in Cusco. I did not need to travel from a rural area to attend college daily nor was I a resident of the college dorms with their precarious services. I did not have to stand in long lines to secure the free lunches provided to eligible students. Even though I experienced many socioeconomic disparities in my hometown and country based on race and gender, I cannot compare my lived experiences with the experiences of students whose mother language is Quechua. As I began to understand, despite deficit socioeconomic views, cultural privileges were related to the city of my birth. For instances, I reflected on the shared privileges of food security we had as college students with Quechua villager relatives, and we often shared goods mailed by relatives, often farmers, as mine were. Regarding gender, I felt that being a married woman and mother allowed me to be trusted by the female photovoice participants, who often had to travel with me for long distances and overnight during photovoice discussions. Being a cisgender heterosexual woman might have limited my interaction to transgender or homosexual students. Also, I monitored my potential bias against men or women who might practice male chauvinism in the study process because I had unwelcomed experiences with male chauvinism during my upbringing and college experience in Cusco. These unwelcomed experiences led me to question patriarchal and drinking societal issues during my youth that led me adopt a decolonial feminist stand in early 2000. As a multilingual person, I was able to navigate the discussions during photovoice sessions because I was able to understand the pragmatics of the Spanish spoken in Cusco. I was able to connect easily with the college community. My limitation was regarding Quechua language – my basic Quechua speaking skills were at times an impediment to grasp and engage more in Quechua discussions around the photovoice themes that emerged. Being aware of this limitation and the potential influence of Spanish as the preferred language to be used instead of Quechua during photovoice discussions, I had the help of bilingual partners, Yexy and Wences. Although, we have prompts in both Quechua, Spanish or in bilingual Quechua, we noticed that bilingual Spanish, Spanish and bilingual Quechua 2 were more commonly used than solely Quechua. I felt that my ethnical identity and lived experiences in Cusco helped me to engage participants in most of the research process. I noticed, however, the looks of mistrust I would perceive when people learned about my immigration status and the fact that I was based in the United States. Over time, people saw my ways of proceeding with participatory approaches,

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more holistically rather than individualistically, and that helped to overcome their mistrust. Sometimes, the anthropology students were surprised to know about Indigenous scholars from the United States when I would talk about some of my mentors at the University of New Mexico. They, like me when I first learned about the vibrant Indigenous communities in the United States, were happy to know about other ways to conduct research. For the mentioned reasons, I position myself as an insider–outsider in both the UNSAAC community where this study took place as well as in the academic world that I joined recently (2015 to present). As reflected by Smith (2002), a Maori indigenous scholar, I believe I can never fully be assimilated into the academic world. I feel that I embody an insideroutsider within my own community, in this case the bilingual Andean college student body, because at that time I was known as the doctoral student or researcher. I often fi nd myself clarifying who I am in several academic spheres as well as in diverse communities in Cusco. I also am a mother of Spanish–English bilingual twins; a Latina who can speak an Indigenous language; a woman–poet–dancer (Figure 3.1) from Cusco who publishes in Quechua, English and Spanish; a Quechua scholar who has co-presented in North and South events with Quechua young scholars from Southern Perú (Figure 3.2); a former bilingual educator in the Southwest of the United States who has experienced no bilingual model of education in her hometown of Cusco; and an ally of the Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan 3 who often mentions the work of Gloria Anzaldua and Hilaria Supa Huamán4 (Figure 3.3). During my application for the CBPR, coupled with decolonial thinking, I strived to reject the stance of education and research for Andean people that is designed and prescribed solely by persons outside the Andean community. As an insider–outsider Quechua scholar at CBPR, I seek to avoid prescriptive practices that could reproduce paternalistic research that often mystifies Andean peoples’ knowledge. As a researcher involved in CBPR efforts, I acknowledge the effect of my identities, particularly regarding the potential impact that my positionality can have

Figure 3.1 Co-presenter with Tawa5 members in Cusco, Perú. Y. Kenfield, 2019

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31

Figure 3.2 Co-panelist with Andean researchers at a conference in the United States. Y. Kenfield, 2019

Figure 3.3 Hilaria Supa Huamán. Parlamento Andino (2014) in El Condor, p. 6

and how it can affect the interpretation of data (with a soul) and the production of knowledge. As a decolonial scholar from the South, I recognize the need to move away from continuing scholar coloniality endeavors that require an epistemic decolonial turn (Castro-Gómez & Grosfoguel, 2007; Rivera

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Cusicanqui, 2010). This commitment means that I embark on a shared research journey with Andean peoples; this journey would not end with a data analysis and interpretation phase, but rather would end with the dissemination of results. So far, multilingual co-publications have been limited (Kenfield et al., 2018). Although many associates involved in this study have multilingually (Quechua–Spanish–English) co-presented with me and without me, yet most of these presentations have been mostly conducted in Spanish. This dissemination can and should take different means, not only academic texts, if I truly want to contribute to the epistemic decolonial turn. Grosfoguel believes that an epistemic decolonial turn is needed in academia because coloniality also operates as a mode of internal mental control guided by colonial epistemology, a control exemplified in the works of scholars who give privilege to Western theories and methods in academia. Proponents of decolonial research aim to separate their scholarly work from those who ‘produced studies about the subaltern rather than studies with and from a subaltern perspective’ (Grosfoguel, 2007: 216). Grosfoguel criticized scholars whose theories remained based in the North while the subjects under study were located in the South. Therefore, decolonialcentric authors encourage scholars to move the locus of enunciation from Eurocentric knowledge to Subaltern ones. To me, the process of decoloniality in my own insider–outsider positionality has to do with Ch’ixi, translated as motley (Rivera Cusicanqui, 2012). In her use of the term ‘motley,’ Rivera Cusicanqui emphasized the need for decolonial gestures against internal colonialism, the main task that should be at the core of Latin American scholarly activists’ work. Particularly, Rivera Cusicanqui (2012) emphasized that the vast majority of populations in the Andean region are mestizo, not Indigenous. By recognizing the interplay of Indigenous and European forces, not only the European while dismissing the Indigenous, one can transform the internal colonialism in favor of an epistemic decolonial turn. During the research process, I conscientiously, or not, found myself reproducing, resisting, disrupting and/or changing the constructs of my positionality. Therefore, although I strived to contribute to the epistemic decolonial turn, I felt that I had several chores pending, such as the trilingual Quechua–Spanish–English instructional video about photovoice methodologies. This video could be more accessible by Andean peoples because orality is predominant in the Andean communities when compared to written productions. Contradictorily, I am writing this book in English and hope to translate it into Spanish to republish it in Perú. Andean Research Partners Within the Phases of the CBPR Study

In CBPR, community partners refer to members of the community who are committed to and share the vision for the CBPR project that brings relevant knowledge and expertise about the issue being studied and

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researched. It is important to note that community partners often have different levels of awareness of the details of the project, and their involvement might vary, depending on the stage of the project. When I embarked on this CBPR project, I sought a potential partnership with a community organization with which I envisioned a long-term relationship. The identification of potential partners and partnerships interested in Quechua language maintenance and revitalization efforts was at the core of my initial CBPR discussions with friends in Cusco. After conversations with college students, in 2015, I narrowed the focus of the CBPR study I initially envisioned, based on suggestions by the Andean college students. These students wanted to explore the possible argument that could support their desire to have the Quechua language as a core course in all departments within a public university and that would prepare future professionals for a highly bilingual region. Their ambitious goal informed the overarched negotiated research agenda for the field work in 2016–2017. My partnership with two Quechua college students – Yexy Huillca Quishua and Wencelao Huayllani Mercado in 2016 – was immensely helpful to begin this CBPR journey. We created a group symbolically called Ayllu Multilingue. Then we partnered with Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan, a proactive group of bilingual college students, for the development of the photovoice study in 2017 – and that was critical. Note that the bios of Yexy and Wences presented here were written by them as per my request for this book. Wences wrote his in Spanish, and Yexy wrote hers in Spanish along with a brief introduction in Quechua. I maintained Yexy’s Quechua paragraph to respect her written Quechua. I translated their bios into English in the fall of 2020. Yexy Huillca Quishua Qankunapaq ñawinchaqkuna, tukuy sonqoymantapachanapaykuykichis kay huch’u willarikuy, noqay iskay chunkatawalloq kausayniymanta, hinaqa qankunaq munasqaykichispaq hina Kaman, mana chayna kaqtinkapampachawankichis pantaramuni chayqa, chaynaqatinkunanchiskamaña The English translation: For you all who read, with all my heart I greet you with this statement. With my 24 years of my life, I hope you all like it [this statement], if not, I beg you to excuse me, in that understanding goodbye. My name is Emely Yexy Huillca Quishua. I was born in the District of Sicuani Province of Canchis Department of Cusco; my mother tongue was both Quechua and Spanish because my parents moved to the District of Rondocan Province of Acomayo, which also belongs to the Region of Cusco; there I learned to speak Quechua because all the children at school communicated speaking Quechua. In addition, every year on vacation I

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lived with my maternal grandparents, who also influenced my learning of the Quechua language and Quechua knowledge. For 22 years, I have continued to communicate in the Quechua language, and I have learned to write it at school, according to the sound that was emitted by its pronunciations. When I started college, I became more interested in writing the Quechua language. I have five years of work experience in social, cultural and educational projects that seek to know, to spread the Quechua culture, and that seek to improve the quality of life of the inhabitants of the peasant communities. I am currently writing my undergraduate thesis, titled ‘Migration and cultural reintegration in times of health crisis, community of Kuñotambo, District of Rondocan, Acomayo-Cusco in 2020.’ I hope to obtain a degree in anthropology. Before learning about Yuliana’s work, as an anthropology student I was already involved in research into intercultural bilingual education and gender in the communities of the Ocongate District. Therefore, Yuliana’s work got my attention. I first met Yuliana through a fellow Quechua language advocate, Ronal Castilla Callapiña, who was vice president of the anthropology student association of which I was the treasurer at that time. Wenceslao Huayllani Mercado My name is Wenceslao Huayllani Mercado. I was born in Cusco, but the fi rst 10 years of my life were in Apurímac. Apurimac is another department in the mountain range of Perú, at high altitude, where more Quechua-speaking people live. My mother tongue was both Quechua and Spanish because I was learning both languages at the same time; it was most likely that my childhood friends (children of 4, 5, 6, years old) spoke to me in Quechua because Spanish was used only in my house. I never realized that I learned two languages at once. Only when I was already a university student, I realized the importance and how privileged I was to learn Quechua and Spanish at the same time. My elementary education was at the public school 50631 Mara in the department of Apurímac where I learned Quechua, which I consider to be my mother tongue because of how comfortable it is for me to communicate with it. Then my parents moved back to the city of Cusco where I attended high school in the Inca Garcilaso de la Vega public school; there I did not fi nd any Quechua speakers, and no one showed that they knew the language, including me, but surely there were many hidden bilinguals. I hold a bachelor’s degree in anthropology from the National University San Antonio Abab of Cusco. I am currently writing my undergraduate thesis, titled, ‘The traditional authorities of the peasant community of Ccatccapampa of the district of Ccatcca.’ I want to obtain a degree in anthropology. Before learning about Yuliana’s work in 2016, I was involved in participatory work, which is why I was struck by the work of Yuliana, whom I initially met because I helped her improve her Quechua, and she was introduced to me by fellow student and university activist, Emilio Tito

Andean Research Partners Within the Research Process 35

Vega. I also wanted to know about the photovoice method. After completing the research ethics certificate at the University of New Mexico, I collaborated with Yuliana and Yexy Huillca Quishua. I have always been linked to the rural area, highland Andean communities, and to Quechua. I have a decade of work experience in development projects, and I am particularly committed to working to improve the living conditions in rural communities. While I was beginning my university life in Cusco, I worked for four consecutive years for the Innovation of Poverty Action institution, helping with baselines to diagnose social problems in certain territories. Then I began to implement development projects with different local non-governmental institutions where I worked as a development facilitator, implementing projects on issues of sexual education, family violence and economic empowerment, projects implemented in rural areas and clearly in the Quechua language. An important work experience was with the non-governmental entity Amhauta, where we implemented a bilingual education project that transversely involved parents and children and the importance of language not only in education but also in the productive life of the family. At Amhauta, I met the active weavers of Huayllapata. Recently, I participated in an investigation for the Ministry of Housing of my country, carrying out an ethnography of the communities of the Suycutambo district in the province of Espinar. I currently (2020) work at Fundación Ayuda en Acción, where I am a social leader in the Ollantaytambo district. Independently, along with a group of professionals, some Quechua speakers, we are formalizing a foundation to work on issues related to language, culture, socioeconomic development and poverty.

Formation of these partnerships helped begin and sustain community participation by ‘negotiating a research agenda based on a common framework of mechanisms for change, and creating and nurturing structures to sustain partnerships, though constituency-building and organizational development’ (Minkler & Wallerstein, 2008). Periodically, during some of our meetings with Yexy and Wences, I used fundamental questions to evaluate our partnership: ‘What did/do you value most about the meeting/partnership? What did/do you value least about the meeting/partnership? What suggestions do you have for how to improve the meeting or partnership’ (Minkler & Wallerstein, 2008: 393). With limitation of funding, the ongoing cognizance of these questions provided information for assessing the partnership’s progress over time. For instance, after completing data collection from the survey study, I asked the above questions. The responses of Wences and Yexy during our fi rst interactions in the summer of 2016, such as this one from Wences, reaffirmed the need to continue the partnership: Tengo una pasión por involucrarme en proyectos sociales o educacionales que persigan valorar o revalorar el idioma quechua y que ayude en el desarrollo personal de las personas, por mi propia experiencia

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vivida el idioma quechua muchas veces pasa toda una vida como una sombra que acompaña al bilingüe durante toda su vida sin darle ningún uso o valor cultural, educativo ni mucho menos académico. Este proyecto está ayudando a ver con más claridad el valor del bilingüismo como universitario. The English translation: I have a passion for getting involved in social or educational projects that seek to value or revalue the Quechua language, and that helps the personal development of people. From my own lived experience, the Quechua language often crosses by lifetime as a shadow that accompanies the bilingual throughout his life without giving it any cultural, educational or much less academic use or value. This project is helping to see more clearly the value of bilingualism as a university student. (field note, Wences, March 7, 2016)

Initially, research partners in this study included two college students: Yexy Huillca Quishua and Wenceslao Huayllani Mercado, with whom I discussed potential methodologies for a CBPR study. I suggested using an engaging participatory method, photovoice, to address the types of questions related to opportunities for Quechua–Spanish students in regards to the use of the Quechua language. In photovoice (Wang & Burris, 1994), the community members being studied are active participants of the research. Wang drew from the problem-posing method used by Freire in his work with peasants in Latin America. Freire asked participants to represent in drawings their reality to visualize the issues they wanted to change in their communities. In photovoice, photography replaces Freire’s drawings as an innovative tool that supports participants to represent their messages. Further, in photovoice, selected photographs ultimately are exhibits that serve to probe discussions with community members and policymakers during a photovoice exposition led by the participants themselves. After learning about the photovoice methodology, Yexy Huillca Quishua and Wenceslao Huayllani Mercado agreed to use it. This CBPR study therefore had two major phases because of the great deal of time and effort needed to establish the conditions for a CBPR study to take place. The first phase focused on how we would approach the community. The second phase covered a photovoice study. Figure 3.4 shows the sequential flow of this design. Community-Based Participatory Research with Photovoice Phase 1 (2016)

Phase 2 (2017)

Approaching the community (community advisory board)

Photovoice study (Collective data collection, analysis, and interpretation)

Figure 3.4 Sequential flow of the CBPR phases

Andean Research Partners Within the Research Process 37

During the photovoice segment, student participation expanded to members of Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan group (VIHÑ), as 10 college students from the VIHÑ became research partners. Phase 1: Approaching the community of bilingual Quechua– Spanish college students

My initial CBPR discussions with friends in Cusco about the agenda of this research led me to conversations with Emilio Tito Vega, an activist student of anthropology at UNSAAC and former associate of the Hatun Ñan program.6 I was introduced to Emilio via email, and in the spring of 2015, Emilio and I began having Skype conversations about the Quechua language and its role at UNSAAC. We usually spoke in Spanish but often in Quechua. Also at this time, I was taking the CBPR course at the CBPR summer institute at the University of New Mexico (UNM). Emilio would later introduce me to bilingual Quechua–Spanish students who would become the Andean research partners. When talking to Emilio, I employed the principle of cultural humility advocated by CBPR. I would remind myself that, although I was a former UNSAAC graduate myself, my 11 years living (at that time) in the United States distanced me, and I no longer felt like an insider. At that time, I learned about the Hatun Ñan program through Emilio and learned that he and several other Quechua students were trying to have this program institutionalized at UNSAAC because they were aware that the Ford Foundation funding would soon end. After these initial conversations, I reviewed the scarce literature about Hatun Ñan to be further informed: In the framework of intercultural education, the Ford Foundation funded a project of affi rmative action called the Hatun Ñan program in higher education in Perú (Tubino, 2015). The Ford Foundation-funded Hatun Ñan program implemented the incorporation of intercultural citizenship in affi rmative action programs developed at UNSAAC for 12 years and at the Universidad San Cristóbal of Huamanga (USCH) in Ayacucho for nine years. These two universities had in common the largest population of self-identified Quechua students; therefore, the core principle driving the Hatun Ñan programs was to strengthen Indigenous intercultural citizenship, deliver a series of workshops in intercultural-related topics and provide academic support. After 2015, the Ford Foundation discontinued its support of these Hatun Ñan programs. Currently, neither university has committed to continue the Hatun Ñan program independently of the Ford Foundation. The discontinuation of Hatun Ñan at UNSAAC resonated with me, as I have personal, familial and communal history with this university as an alumna. Stimulated by the conversations with Emilio Tito Vega7 and my education in critical social theory during my doctoral program at the University of New Mexico, I began to question intercultural practices at

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UNSAAC and to explore the actual Quechua–Spanish practices of intercultural policies at UNSAAC. In 2016, I asked Emilio Tito Vega, along with Quechua students Ronald Castillo Callapiña, Yexy Huillca Quishu, and Wenceslao Huayllani Mercado at UNSAAC, about how my research training could be of use in matters related to the general topic of Quechua–Spanish bilingualism. They were curious to know if my research could help to fi nd ways to increase the Quechua ethnolinguistic awareness among students and to explore how to increase the visibility of Quechua at the university. These students, Emilio and Ronald, were members of the Hatun Ñan program at that time (summer, 2015). They explained that there was no facility at the university where students could use Quechua outside of Hatun Ñan meetings. Further, they also confirmed a recurring insight I found in the literature: the enlightened policy promoting an intercultural approach to education was mostly wonderful words – far from reality at both the university and national educational systems. The very few exceptions involved community-based projects. The students were glad to learn of a new-to-them participatory approach to research, although the participatory aspect resonated with their own Andean cultural identity. Their enthusiasm helped me to commit to CBPR as the leading strategy for my proposed study. Formalizing the Community Advisory Board

I began to work on the Investigation Review Board (IRB) paperwork, required by the University of New Mexico,8 for the CBPR study in the fall of 2015. Emilio was graduating from UNSAAC and returning to his Quechua rural community in Apurimac to work as a high school teacher. Although Ehe was a key person in initiating the focus of my current proposal, he could not formally join the Community Advisory Board9 for this study because he no longer resided in Cusco and had limited internet access. In the spring of 2016, Wenceslao Huayllani and Yexy Huillca (senior students of anthropology and acquainted with Emilio), both current UNSAAC students, became the Community Advisory Board for this CBPR study and were listed as co-researchers in the IRB-approved protocol. In the summer of 2016, I traveled to Cusco to meet Yexy and Wences to fi nalize the survey study. One of our meetings at that time was convened in a w’atia10 to continue the conversation about the vision for our team’s future actions to accomplish the research goals (survey study and later a photovoice study). The CBPR team members were highly engaged in the w’atia because they have grown with this cultural practice. We decided to use w’atia discussion sessions because they are a historically and culturally a relevant format that strengthens our ties for future steps. Figure 3.5 shows Yexy and Wences during our first w’atia. These students have a history of involvement in forums related to social inclusion and intercultural initiatives aimed toward equity

Andean Research Partners Within the Research Process

39

Figure 3.5 First CBPR w’atia, Y. Kenfield, 2016

education. They have high cross-cultural skills because they themselves were born outside of the urban area of Cusco and were Quechua–Spanish bilinguals. Their Andean background and language skills in Spanish and Quechua added tremendously to this study. In the summer of 2016, I traveled to Cusco to conduct with Yexy and Wences a survey study to preliminarily observe from a larger scope some demographics from the student population of UNSAAC. The main motivation to conduct this survey was the lack of statistical data on the mother languages of the students. We found that 32.29% of students had Quechua as their mother language, 3.14% had Quechua–Spanish as their mother language and 64.57% students had Spanish as their mother language. Although the number of Quechua speakers impressed us, the reasons were different. Yexy and Wences expected to fi nd more students with Quechua as their mother language, and I thought the number of Quechua students would be less than 30%. Later, I talked to the director of the center of statistics at UNSAAC, who told me that in fact there was an increase in the number of students who were not from the Cusco province; rather, they were from Quechua communities and provinces where the level of bilingualism was higher. I was pleasantly surprised to learn all of that. The survey study conducted with Yexy and Wences established a closer relationship between us, despite the geographical long-distance spaces, guided by core principles of CBPR: co-learning, capacity building and partnership. In December 2017, I moved to Cusco and met regularly with Yexy and Wences to plan and envision the photovoice study. Both would become the facilitators and collaborators, formally referred to in CBPR terms as the Community Advisory Board. In addition, since the fall of 2016, I had an indirect collaboration with Claudia Cuba Huamaní of Centro de Estudios Regionales Andinos Bartolomé de las Casas (CBC), a local non-profit organization based in

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Cusco. Claudia Cuba Huamaní, who self-identified as Quechua, worked as the main coordinator of Casa Campesina, a housing project of CBC. Casa Campesina lodges any villager (Andean or Amazonian) who needs lodging in the city of Cusco for short periods of time while taking care of any issues in the city. These villagers often spend some days in the city for health, legal or social services that can take place only in Cusco city. These Andean women have extensive experience in advocating for language diversity focused on education of adult Quechua villagers. It is important to mention that in particular, Claudia Cuba Huamaní was a key collaborator when photovoice students decided to get involved with the Casa Campesina project of the Centro de Estudios Regionales Andinos Bartolome de las Casas. The relationship with Claudia Cuba Huamaní began in 2016 when Yexy, Wences and I wanted to share our initial survey results at the CBC in the city of Cusco, when Claudia suggested we share them at Casa Campesina specifically. Phase 2: The photovoice study

I initiated a photovoice project with the collaboration of Yexy and Wences (we became the Ayllu Multilingue) during the months of January to August of 2017 in Cusco, Perú. This phase of the research was guided by the following research questions: What issues do Andean college students raise about the opportunities to use their Quechua in higher education? What do they propose in an effort to transform this reality? Photovoice participants

Potential photovoice participants were invited via email and identified as bilinguals from the pool of students who completed the 2016 sociolinguistic survey study conducted by Yexy, Wences and I (Kenfield et al., 2018). More than 20 students responded to an email invitation to the fi rst photovoice orientation session. Only 16 attended our fi rst orientation session; 15 signed the informed consent, but due to time constraints, three photovoice participants could not continue after the third session. Twelve photovoice participants took part in the entire photovoice study. Later during the first photovoice sessions, I would learn that 10 of the 12 were members of the VIHÑ group, a student organization that would become a critical part of photovoice project. These 12 students identified themselves as Andean, Quechua, or place specific (e.g. Haquireño, as someone from the Haquira town, Apurimac department, Perú). All of them embodied different types of Quechua–Spanish bilinguals and self-identified as bilinguals who were bilingual from birth or who had Quechua as their fi rst language or whose fi rst language was Spanish (Table 3.1). Some of them spoke the language variation known as bilingual Spanish (Escobar, 2001) in which

Andean Research Partners Within the Research Process

41

Table 3.1 Photovoice participants’ first language and college major N° 1.

Names

First language

Major

Castilla Callapiña, Ronald

Quechua

Anthropology

2.

Ccasa Aparicio, Carmen

Spanish

Law

3.

Chino Mamani, Fructuoso

Quechua–Spanish

Law

4.

Conde Banda, Nilda

Quechua–Spanish

Anthropology

5.

Ccasani Ccossco, Edgar

Quechua

Psychology

6.

Flores Ramos Ana, Cinthia

Quechua-Spanish

Anthropology

7.

Levita Pillco, Yolanda

Quechua

Anthropology

8.

Pucahuayta

Quechua-Spanish

Anthropology

9.

Quispe Huayhua, Gabriel

Quechua

Psychology

10.

Tecsi Ayme, Yanet

Quechua

Agronomy

11.

Vargas Quispe, Yuly

Quechua-Spanish

Communication

12.

Ventura Aucca, Diana

Quechua-Spanish

Anthropology

morphosyntactic and phonological features from the Quechua linguistic inventory carry into Spanish, a dialectical signature of this variation. Similarly, some of them spoke at times the bilingual Quechua. I used the term bilingual Quechua as the Quechua–Spanish variation called quechuañol in Cusco to describe the Quechua variation that includes many Spanish vocabulary terms in its speech and carries some Spanish phonology for some Quechua terms. All participants manifested that they wanted to be referred to by their actual names in this study, except for Pucahuayta, which is a pseudonym. The photovoice participants’ brief biographic information, as of 2017, can be found in Figure 3.6; this demographic information includes mother language, ethnicity and some migration information, which was revised by each participant. Note that these short bios were either written in Spanish or voice-recorded in Spanish by the photovoice participants themselves prior to their campus photoexposition in July 2017. I switched to the third person and showed them the fi nal draft of their bios before translating them into English in December 2017. As the CBPR unfolded, the Advisory Community Board (Wences and Yexy) suggested involving off -campus Quechua peoples who were not directly related to the photovoice students. The photovoice participants (Andean research partners) and I agreed that input from non-university Quechua peoples would enhance the students’ knowledge of the Quechua episteme and strengthen their goal to promote greater appreciation of Quechua, not only on campus but in the general public. Then, non-university Quechua peoples were selected, and that group was made up of Huayllapata women weavers and Quechua comuneros y comuneras (villagers) who resided in Casa Campesina.

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Ronald Castilla Callapiña is a recent graduate of anthropology and member of the Intercultural Volunteering Hatun Ñan group. He is originally from the Quechua community of Misca, Cusco. His mother tongue is Quechua, and he became bilingual due to his schooling in Spanish. Ronald self-identified as Quechua and a poet. He is interested in promoting the Quechua language not only by giving face-to-face tutorials but also via Whatsapp and Facebook. Ronald lives between Misca and the city of Cusco due to his studies and work. Carmen Ccasa Aparicio was born in Combapata, in the region of Cusco. Although her mother tongue is Spanish due to her mother’s work in intercultural bilingual education in Quechua communities, Carmen learned Quechua as a child, but with her schooling in Spanish she stopped speaking Quechua. Carmen takes Quechua classes in a language center to help the process of recovering her second language. She is a law student and member of the intercultural volunteering Hatun Ñan group. Edgar Ccasani Ccoscco was born in Haquira, in the region of Apurímac. Edgar is a Quechua-speaker from birth. He completed his schooling in Spanish. It identifies itself as a Haquireño. He is a student of psychology. Edgar is the president of volunteering in the Hatun Ñan group and organizes cultural activities inside and outside the university, with incoming students from provinces in the university. He moved to Cusco for his studies. Nilda Conde Banda was born in Kunturkanki, in the region of Cusco. She calls herself Quechua and is Quechua-Spanish bilingual from birth. All of her schooling was in Spanish, with the inclusion of Quechua courses in some grades. She is a student of anthropology. Nilda is part of the intercultural voluntariado Hatun Ñan. Nilda migrated to the city of Cusco for her university studies. Fructuoso Chino Mamani was born in Kunturkanki in the region of Cusco. Fructuoso self-identifies as Quechua and is bilingual from birth because his mother is a Quechua speaker and his father is bilingual. All of his schooling was in Spanish. He is a law student at the university where he is also an active member of the VIHÑ. Fructuoso migrated to Cusco for his college studies. Cinthia Flores Ramos was born in San Jerónimo in the region of Cusco, where she still resides. She was bilingual from birth, and her schooling was in Spanish in the city of Cusco. Cinthia feels that it is important to maintain Quechua as part of her identity. That is why she is actively maintaining her bilingualism with her family and with her Quechua-speaking peers from the university in anthropology. Cinthia hopes to write her thesis in Quechua and Spanish. She is an active member of VIHÑ.

Figure 3.6 Photovoice participants’ bios

Andean Research Partners Within the Research Process

Yolanda Levita Pilco was born in Chinchero in the region of Cusco. Quechua is her mother tongue, and then with her schooling in Spanish, she became bilingual. Yolanda is a student of anthropology career and is a member of the Intercultural Volunteering Hatun Ñan. She is also part of the Bicentennial Youth Association of Chinchero. Yolanda did not have to emigrate to the city of Cusco, but to attend college from Chinchero, she must commute 45 minutes. to the UNSAAC campus Gabriel Quispe Huayhua was born in Haquira in the region of Apurímac. He is bilingual from birth and has bilingual parents. He considers Quechua to be his mother tongue; all of his schooling was in Spanish. He identifies as a Haquireno. He is a student of psychology and is a musician, plays the Andean instrument charango, quena, zampoña; and the guitar. As a member of VIHÑ, Gabriel includes music in VIHÑ activities. He currently works in a non-governmental organization called Amhauta, oriented to adult education within a human rights framework, in which he can use his Quechua skills in the field with Quechua speakers. He resides in the city of Cusco for his studies. Yuli Vargas Quispe was born in Sicuani in the region of Cusco. She is bilingual from birth, and all of her schooling was in Spanish, with the exception of one Quechua course in high school. Yuly selfidentifies as Quechua. She is a student of communication. Yuli had to emigrate to the city of Cusco for her studies, where she works with a printing press. She is a member of the Intercultural Volunteering Hatun Ñan group. She is very active in creating communication products that promote Quechua and anti-discrimination through not only brochures but also theater and by using her own traditional Andean clothing in exhibitions.

Diana Ventura Aucca was born in Anta, region of Cusco, and grew up among high Andean communities due to the teaching work of her single mother, from whom she learned Quechua as a child. She considers her cultural identity as much as Quechua and Chanka (Panaca-Killque), both legacies with the common Quechua language. Diana was also raised by her grandmother, Regina Chacca Ichuhuayta, who was Chanka (Cotabambas, Apurimac); she had schooling in Spanish, and for that reason Diana lost many of her Quechua language skills. She is in the process of recovering the Quechua language. She is a student of anthropology. Yaneth Tecsi Ayme was born in Caycay in the region of Cusco. Quechua was her mother tongue, and with bilingual Quechua–Spanish schooling, she became bilingual. Yaneth is a student of agronomy and member of the VIHÑ. Yaneth did not emigrate to the city of Cusco for her university studies, but to attend college from Caycay, she must travel for about 70 minutes. Pucahuayta is a bilingual student of anthropology at UNSAAC and originally was from the community of Yanarico, Apurimac. She is interested in disseminating and maintaining the Quechua language. She is bilingual from birth, and in her schooling she had Quechua instruction in addition to Spanish. She now resides in Cusco for her university studies.

Figure 3.6 Continued.

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Tejedoras de Huayllapata

A dozen women weavers from Huayllapata shared their communal space in Huayllapata during one of the photovoice sessions. Their names are not shared here because they said they wanted to be known by the name of their collective, Tejedoras de Huayllapata. In addition to being Indigenous farmers or permaculturists, most were mothers, and the youngest weaver member was a bilingual schoolteacher who was not a mother. All were born in Huayllapata higthlands and rarely visited Cusco city. All also were proud of their potato harvest. The soup they shared with us included their potato production, and its taste was indeed, remarkable. All of them knew or heard about UNSAAC and some envisioned their children attending that university; therefore, some of them asked for contact information of photovoice participants as a reference to later navigate the UNSAAC admission system. The Tejedoras de Huayllapata had in common their mother language: Quechua. All of our verbal interactions with them were in either Quechua or bilingual Quechua. When I was not able to communicate in Quechua, Wences helped as an interpreter. The participation of the Huayllapata women weavers in the photovoice session was possible because of Wences. Wences, at that time, was working for a non-profit organization that supported a holistic approach to intercultural bilingual education in several communities in Cusco provinces. This holistic approach, as explained by Wences, aimed to include not only children but also their mothers and fathers in an education centered on the community needs. Specifically, Wences helped deliver workshops in either Quechua or bilingual Quechua–Spanish for the Huayllapata women weavers related to micro business administration because the recent entrepreneurs were learning about the artisanal industry. Wences told them about us, and they agreed to meet us in their community. They had planned to showcase their weaving work, because they were practicing presenting their work and products for potential customers, and the photovoice participants intended to share their initial thoughts about photovoice themes in Quechua language. A week prior to our visit, the Huayllapata weavers told Wences they would probably serve soup for us to warm our bodies in the highlands of Huayllapata. Knowing this, each of us (photovoice participants and facilitators) agreed to bring something edible to share with all. We, the facilitators, arranged the transportation, and we traveled in an old van from San Jeronimo, Cusco, to Huayllapata, Paucartambo. I was also able to include in the budget the purchase of 16 textile products from the Huayllapata women weavers as a way to symbolically compensate their participation during a photovoice session centered on exchanging experiences around Quechua–Spanish bilingualism of college students.

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45

Casa Campesina and Quechua comuneros y comuneras

Casa Campesina is a major project of the Centro Bartolome de las Casas non-profit organization in Cusco city. Casa Campesina includes a hotel facility, a restaurant and a hostel. Casa Campesina, first stablished around 1960 as a hostel and later converted in a two-star hotel, supports the 43-bed low-cost hostel accommodation ($2 a night at that time in 2017) for people coming from rural (Indigenous) communities in the highlands and from jungle lowlands who are visiting Cusco briefly – usually for health reasons, because public hospitals do not exist in their rural areas. Casa Campesina has a subproject called Martes Campesino, translated as Tuesday nights, organized by Claudia Cuba Huamani, who selfidentifies as Quechua from Chumbivilcas, one of the highland provinces of the Cusco region. Claudia Cuba Huamani is Quechua–Spanish bilingual whose fi rst language is Quechua and who has experience in early childhood education, primarily in Quechua. Claudia not only organizes Martes Campesino events but also is involved in educational programs for Indigenous adult guests and helps any Indigenous guest to navigate the city of Cusco. One major role of Claudia is that of an interpreter and translator from Quechua into Spanish and vice versa. Although I attended some events organized at Casa Campesina when I was a college student in Cusco around 2000, it was in 2013, when I was taking a Quechua language course at Centro Bartolome de las Casas (CBC), when I fi rst heard of Martes Campesino. The Quechua comuneros y comuneras

This book refers to the Quechua villagers, temporary guests at Casa Campesina hostel,11 who were involved photovoice discussions during the fi rst photovoice exposition led by photovoice participants. Specifically, these interactions took place at the Martes Campesino event, which translates as Tuesday Peasant because it was a recurrent Tuesday event held at the Casa Campesina auditorium. Quechua villagers, who interacted with the photovoice participants, came from diverse highlands communities of the Cusco region and identified Quechua as the mother language. The names and brief demographic information of these Quechua villagers were documented by Claudia Cuba, the Martes Campesino organizer, for the purposes of the Casa Campesina project. Quechua villagers who temporarily resided at the Casa Campesina hostel were eligible guests due to their socioeconomic status as well as their location of precedence. It is important to note that although all Casa Campesina guests, either Quechua villagers or any other Indigenous group, were invited to the martes campesinos sessions, they were not necessarily present at these events on Tuesdays. Also, it is important to note that often, few Cusco residents who were not Quechua villagers attended the Martes Campesino events.

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In this second phase of the CBPR study, the photovoice project was oriented toward: • • •

documenting the situations that impede and/or allow the undergraduate students’ use of their Quechua–Spanish bilingualism in higher education.; promoting critical dialogue and knowledge about personal and community attitudes toward Indigenous language and heritage through group discussions of photographs; challenging language ideological distortions that obstruct Quechua– Spanish bilingual practices at the college level, particularly focusing on discussing on ways to disrupt the status quo.

The photovoice project within its three major stages included data in the form of field notes, observations, narratives written by the photovoice participants about their photos (brochure for the photo exposition), photo-elicited semistructured individual interviews with photovoice participants and audio-recorded photovoice group discussions. The data collection occurred throughout the three major stages of a photovoice study, shown in Figure 3.7. During each photovoice session, photovoice participants were asked about the process and how they thought the facilitators should continue, incorporate or change it. In that way, we, the facilitators, assessed the ways in which the CBPR study was supporting the three above-mentioned orientations. Often, photovoice participants would express their desire to continue, as Fructuoso noted: En las reuniones el aprendizaje es permanente y uno nunca deja de aprender, y quiero adquirir conocimientos y es por eso que sigo participando en el proyecto Fotovoz. The English translation: During the sessions, learning is permanent, and one never stops learning, and I want to acquire knowledge, and that is why I continue to participate in the Photovoice project. (discussion transcript, sixth photovoice session) Main Stages of the Photovoice Project

______________Data Collection Throughout the Photovoice Process_____________ Figure 3.7 Data collection across the main stages of the photovoice project

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Particularly after introducing and applying the SHOWeD method to support and provoke critical dialogues, participants were more conscious about their own empowerment process, as Cinthia said: He aprendido algunas técnicas de investigación, eso suma a mi carga cognoscitiva y además de ello comparto algunas experiencias con compañeros bilingues como yo. Para mí es grato estar en este proyecto ya que me permite desenvolverme como soy y poder compartir mis ideas para un trabajo fructífero ya que se trata no solo de investigar, sino va más allá, a generar conciencia en la población mediante políticas publicas de identidad. The English translation: I have learned some research techniques; that adds to my cognitive background, and in addition to that, I share some experiences with bilingual peers like me. For me it is pleasant to be in this project since it allows me to develop as I am and to be able to share my ideas for a fruitful work since it is not only about research, but it goes further, to generate awareness in the population through public identity policies. (discussion transcript, seventh photovoice session)

Throughout the photovoice process, Yexy and Wences were active photovoice facilitators, coordinators, supporters and co-researchers; in CBPR terms, they served as the community advisory board for the study. In Yexy’s words: Al empezar el trabajo de colección de datos en el 2016 para la encuesta, pensé que sería un trabajo netamente cuantitativo y no me imaginaba que el proyecto iba a expandirse. Me agradó mucho el poder participar como colaboradora y ser parte de todo el proceso que se realizó durante la investigación de encuesta y fotovoz. La parte que me agradó más fue cuando mis compañeros universitarios participaban activamente con sus fotografías y donde se utilizaba el método de-colonial donde todos expresaban con respecto a nuestro idioma e identidad quechua. The English translation: When starting the data collection work in 2016 for the survey study, I thought it would be a purely quantitative work, and I did not imagine that the project was going to expand. I really liked being able to participate as a collaborator and be part of the whole process that was carried out during the research; the part that I liked the most was when my university peers actively participated with their photos and where the de-colonial method was used where everyone expressed regarding our Quechua language and identity. (field notes, Yexy, Aug. 25, 2017)

Initially, the photovoice sessions were planned to be two hours long, but this changed as the participants suggested longer sessions outside the city. Although at fi rst I was concerned about the level of commitment of photovoice participants in longer sessions, I learned to trust the shared negotiated photovoice session dynamics. I noticed that after the first pre-photo production stage, students expressed their perceptions of this process

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more openly. During the second stage of the photovoice process, Diana commented: Por medio de Fotovoz quiero ayudar a la población universitaria actual y futura de la UNSAAC a que se genere la unidad e identidad. A revalorar y sentir lo que es en realidad somos. Es por ello que aun persisto en ello para aprender y también aportar a este cambio. The English translation: Via photovoice, I want to help the current and future university population of UNSAAC to generate unity and identity. To reassess and feel who we really are. That is why I persist in this project to learn and also contribute to this change (session transcript, fourth photovoice session at Casa de la Cultura, Cusco).

In total, we had 14 photovoice sessions over a period of six months (January–March and May–July of 2017), and four meetings were devoted only to logistics of the main photovoice exposition on the university campus. Figure 3.8 describes the processes that took place during the photovoice sessions. At the end of the photovoice process, everyone reflected on the ways in which this photovoice study could be improved; some participants mentioned the need to include more diverse voices and perspectives to make a bigger impact in different college departments. In this regard, Cinthia said: Pienso que algunos participantes en el estudio podrían haber sido de otras ciencias. No hemos tenido, por ejemplo, gente de ingeniería, economía, administración. ¿Esto para qué? tienen varias interacciones. La mayoría de nosotros hemos sido estudiantes de ciencias sociales, como antropología, comunicación y psicología. Al incluir estudiantes de otras especialidades podemos comprender otras opiniones, ideas y visiones para esta investigación. The English translation: I think that some participants in the study could have been from other sciences. We have not had, for example, people from engineering, economics, administration. This for what? To have various interactions. Most of us have been students of social sciences, such as anthropology, communication and psychology. By including students from other disciplines, we can understand other opinions, ideas, and visions for this research (discussion transcript, 14th photovoice session). Data Analysis

Prior to explaining the data analysis procedures that took place during and after the second phase of the CBPR journey, I will specify the data sources presented in this book as follows: •

Brochure entries, which include the narratives written by the photovoice participants about their photos for the brochure (distributed at the campus photo exposition).

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Photovoice Process Overview Context of the Photovoice Sessions Major Steps in the Photovoice Project The first session lasted 90 minutes 1. Introduction to photovoice study and facilitators. for the orientation and presenta2. In addition, I reviewed the tion of the consent form. This consent form, and at the end of session took place at the research this session, participants were library of the Universidad San asked to sign the consent form. Antonio Abad del Cusco (UNSAAC). Date: Jan. 17, 2017.

The second session lasted six hours; we met at the UNSAAC main entrance and from there took a bus to the Sacsayhuaman area (outside the city). It took 30 minutes from the UNSAAC the trip to the Tambomachay site where we began our hike. We hiked for 30 minutes between two stops to have group discussions facilitated by Yexy, Wences, Emilio and me. The photovoice participants were divided into small groups. Lunch boxes were provided. Date: Feb 4, 2017.

Figure 3.8 Photovoice overview

3. Group discussions were focused on trying to identify main themes related to the general main topic of the study – the Quechua–Spanish bilingualism in higher education (limitations, opportunities, and projected changes). Some questions posed by the facilitators were: • Is the Quechua language important to you? Why? • What language/s has status at the UNSSAC? Why is that? • What in my student life or community has helped me maintain the Quechua language? • What in student life or community has slowed down my use of the Quechua language since becoming a college student?

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• Do you believe that inclusion or exclusion based on language exist in UNSAAC? Why do you think that happens? • What is my experience of inclusion or exclusion based on language? The third session lasted two hours 4. The photovoice facilitators and included a brief presentation (Yexy, Wences and me) preof the results from the discussions sented a list of themes that of the previous session. This emerged in the group discussession took place in an anthrosions during the previous pology classroom at UNSAAC. session. By looking at the themes (focused on their The documents presented in this language practices in the session were also shared with university), students verify that students electronically. Date: Feb their voice was understood. 8, 2017. Students expanded in depth the major themes that would later direct making photos. 5. I briefly provided two examples of photovoice expositions, so participants would think about possible questions about their own participation in this study. 6. Last, in this session, I introduced the SHOWeD method. This method was again discussed in a session after they made their photos. The SHOWeD method is a set of questions to guide the photovoice participant in their selection of visual narratives (Wang & Burris, 1997; Wang, 2006): • What do you See here? • What’s really Happening here? • How does this relate to Our lives? • Why are things this way? • How can this image Educate people? • What can we Do about it? Figure 3.8 Continued.

Andean Research Partners Within the Research Process

The fourth session focused on the 7. The photography training was protocol for taking pictures and delivered by a professional on photograph training. photographer. Disposable cameras were provided 8. Finally, during this session, the participants who requested them. facilitator introduced questions to guide the sharing for The location of this session was the next session with Quechua in Casa de la Cultura in Cusco women of the Huayllapata downtown. This session lasted community. two and a half hours. Date: Feb 15, 2017.

The fifth session took place in the 9. Photovoice participants first heard the Weavers so that Quechua community of they could converse in Huayllapata, Cusco. This commuQuechua and learn about nity is in the province of their work as weavers. We Paucartambo Huayllapata in the helped with the cooking for highlands of Cusco region. To get our shared lunch. there, private transportation was leased. It took two hours to reach 10. Photovoice participants shared their thoughts, which the community from the city of were prompted by four Cusco. We took with us several questions sent to them goods for our gathering with the electronically: Women Association of Weavers of • What in my (university) Huayllapata. student life has helped me This session lasted 10 hours. Date: maintain or recover the March 4, 2017. Quechua language? • What has slowed down my use of Quechua and Quechua– Spanish bilingualism since becoming a college student? • How do (or will) I promote the Quechua language and Quechua–Spanish bilingualism at my university? Figure 3.8 Continued.

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• How should the university support the promotion, recovery and maintenance of the Quechua language and Quechua–Spanish bilingualism in my university No sessions in which photos were made were held between March and May 2017. Participants requested to have identifiable people in the photos. Therefore, I made amendments in the IRB protocol and had it approved by April 2017. Photovoice participants were asked to sign the Spanish version of the amended consent form. (Appendix 1). The last four questions that guided the sharing of photovoice students in the session in Huayllapata were suggested to be used as the main reference to guide their picture-taking. I individually conducted photo-elicited interviews with the photovoice participants (Appendix 2). These individual interviews took place during the month of May because many of the photovoice participants were returning to Cusco city from their communities to start the new semester. The sixth session took place in the 11. Prior to his meeting, photovoice participants selected four Casa Campesina institution. I photographs. I printed for them paid for a lunch in the Casa those four photos. Everyone Campesina restaurant, which looked at everyone else’s supports the funding of the Casa photos. Photovoice participants Campesina project. This session were divided into small groups. lasted three and a half hours. We 12. Facilitators provided the first had lunch and then worked SHOWed questions to particion the collective sharing and pants to guide the discussion selection of the main photographs in a critical direction. These for the photovoice exposition. questions were spoken either This session was in April during in Quechua or Spanish. the first week of their semester. 13. Photos were selected, contexDate: May 17, 2017. tualized and codified. The facilitators helped the group in developing a consensus for the categories. Students in their small groups helped each other to select two of the four photographs to be used during the photovoice exposition. 14. Students voiced their desire to have their first photovoice exposition at Casa Campesina. Figure 3.8 Continued.

Andean Research Partners Within the Research Process

The seventh session lasted 90 minutes. It took place in a classroom at the university. This session focused on the practicing the SHOWed method to prompt critical dialogue during the photovoice exposition. Date: May 26, 2017. The eighth session was a sevenhour group meeting to evaluate the photovoice process, celebrate our progress, and to schedule the first photo exposition. This session took place in the archeological place of Pisaq, 60 minutes away from Cusco city. Students made a barbecue-like lunch. Date: June 4, 2017.

The ninth session lasted two hours and was held at Casa de la Cultura in downtown Cusco. Date: June 9, 2017.

Figure 3.8 Continued.

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15. Students used the SHOWeD method to guide their conversations with a partner elicited by each other’s photograph.

16. First, we took a hike in the archaeological site of Pisaq. The first discussion was about the goals of the photovoice project that were included in the brochure (see Appendix 3). 17. The second part focused on concrete steps to influence policy, particularly a discussion of a short-term goal of drafting a projected ‘Quechua research week.’ 18. The last part focused on thinking about the photovoice exposition at Casa Campesina

19. During this session, photovoice participants were able to see the example of the actual size of the photo exposition. This session focused on making changes for the final version of the photo exposition. 20. Students shared their narratives for the brochure. This narrative (suggested by the photovoice participants themselves to put together a brochure) served to elucidate more deeply the photovoice participants’ focus on (a) educating others about the issues they believed limited and/or supported the ability to use the Quechua language,

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(b) educating others about their own projected steps to dismantle the limitations to Quechua– Spanish bilingual practices at the university and (c) engaging others to welcome and promote Quechua and other Indigenous languages to enhance a true intercultural college environment One week prior to the first photovoice exposition, students met in pairs to practice the SHOWeD method to engage the other in critical dialogues elicited during their photovoice sessions. They arranged their own schedule for these meetings. Photovoice exposition at Casa 21. During the photo exposition, Campesina Yexy, Wences,and I, bilingually in Quechua and Spanish, The photo exposition, which was briefly presented the backthe 10th session, lasted three ground of the photovoice hours. It took place in the main exposition and its purpose. meeting room of Casa This photo exposition was Campesina. This was part of the presented simultaneously in martes campesino gatherings. Quechua by each photovoice During the martes campesino, participant. villagers discussed any topic that 22. Apu Wayra, a music group, interested them. Claudia Cuba asked to get involved in this Humani coordinated this photo photovoice project. exposition with photovoice Photovoice students were students. happy to have them play Casa Campesina provided a hot their music during the next drink for the cold night in Cusco. photo exposition on the Date: June 27, 2017. main campus of the Universidad San Antonio Abad del Cusco. The 11th session lasted 90 min23. During this session, photoutes. It took place in an anthrovoice participants talked pology classroom at UNSAAC. about their experience in their The purpose of the meeting was first photo exposition and also to primarily organize the photobegan thinking about the voice exposition at the UNSAAC organization (permissions, campus. Date: June 29, 2017. publicity and any other logistics) for the next photo exposition at the university. Figure 3.8 Continued.

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The 12th session was a dinner 24. Students made concrete meeting and lasted two and a half commitments for the organizahours. It took place in a restaurant tion for the second photo near the university’s main campus. exposition, which required During the meeting, participants photovoice participants to evaluated the photovoice exposiformally invite faculty memtion organization process, celbers, student associations, ebrated the progress, and scheddeans, and other policymakers, uled the second photovoice and community members of exposition. the university. This was expanded to the Cusco community in Other informal meetings were general, as photovoice particiorganized to ensure concrete pants made two radial invitalogistics for the success of the tions and one on a local TV campus photovoice exposition. channel. Other publicity venues Date: June 30, 2017. were discussed. 25. Importantly, students gave feedback on the brochure draft Yexy, Wences and I put together. 26. The draft for the projected 2018 ‘Quechua research week’ was shared electronically. Photovoice exposition at the 27. Photovoice participants led Universidad San Antonio Abad del dialogues with members of the Cusco college community (students, faculty and staff) in a critically The 13th session took place at conscious way using the UNSAAC and lasted about six SHOWeD method (Wang & hours. During this photo exposiBurris, 1997). tion, some photovoice participants 28. During the photo exposition began working at 9 a.m.; others on the college campus, the joined later (due to conflict with CBPR team was available for testing). However, all photovoice any needs, to answer questions, participants stayed after the and to document the event. official time of our permission to use the open public space expired. I left at noon, the scheduled time of the end of the gathering. Quinua drinks were provided. Live music was provided by Apu Wayra for about 90 minutes. Date: July 7, 2017. Figure 3.8 Continued.

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The 14th session lasted three hours. 29. During this session, students shared their major insights This session took place near the about the photo exposition at Sacsayhuaman mountain around the university. Cusco city. Date: July 21, 2017. 30. Finally, participants were given a hard copy of the projected ‘Quechua week’ draft as well as an electronic copy. This draft was shared with the Dean’s Office of Research at the University San Antonio Abad del Cusco. All reaffirm that members of The Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan would follow up with more activities oriented toward the goals identified in the photovoice study and would follow up with the Dean’s Office of Research at the university. Figure 3.8 Continued.

•

• •

•

Interview transcripts of the photo-elicited semistructured, individual interview recordings. The photographs used during these photoelicited interviews were produced by the photovoice participant interviewed by me, Yuliana. These individual interviews took place in Cusco city prior to the sixth photovoice session. Discussion transcripts of the 14th audio-recorded photovoice sessions. Field notes taken either by Wences, Yexy or me. I took most of these field notes, in English. The primary language used in the field notes taken by Wences and Yexy was Spanish; a few were in Quechua. These field notes were made during both phases of this CBPR study. Field notes were often interactive entries and included partnership reflections. These field notes were collected in multiple ways – some in Cusco in a regular notebook and some were dictated on the Messenger app or were exchanged as an audio message. Note that Wences and Yexy were familiar with field note production and how they can be used in publications. Photovoices also were present. The photovoices were the photographs produced by the photovoice participants following the fifth photovoice session. Some of the photovoices were not accompanied by narratives because some were not selected by the students for the brochure. The limitation was the budget to print all of the photovoices in the brochure; therefore, participants decided to write narratives for the photovoices they selected for the brochure.

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Data analysis in this study was handled in two ways: One followed the photovoice collective analysis procedure conducted by the photovoice participants, and the other followed a thematic qualitative data analysis procedure that I conducted. (1) Participatory data analysis: The photovoice methodology engaged the bilingual college participants in collective dialogues to the point that they understood messages by acting on them either internally (through thinking about them) or externally by acting on them in the ‘real’ world. The personal interpretive and critical analysis phases unraveled after the photo production as the photovoice participants visually represented their salient themes. By grounding knowledge in personal and collective narratives that comprised their experience and envisioned actions, the personal initial interpretive phase deepened when photovoice participants worked on their narratives that were included in the brochure (Appendix 3). As facilitators, Yexy, Wences and I solely supported the photovoice participants’ analysis by revisiting some of the critical questions in the set of SHOWeD questions that were prompted in Quechua by Wences and Yexy: Imatan rikhushanki kaypi? What do you see? Imapunin kashan kaypi? What is really happening? Imaynatan kawsayninykiwan tupachinku? How does it relate with our lives? Imaqtin chaynallan kashan? Why things are this way? Kaymanta imatataq ruwashan? What can we do about it? (field notes, Yuliana, Jan. 9, 2017) In sum, photovoice participants engaged as participatory coresearchers by identifying language-related practices to reproduce or dismantle higher education that might be affecting their Quechua– Spanish bilingualism. (2) Overall qualitative data analysis: Following the general protocol for qualitative thematic analysis, I created and organized the data fi les from the photo-elicited individual interview responses and photovoice group discussions, read the texts to make notes, and formulated the initial codes using the data analysis software Nvivo11. Then, after more data (observations) were collected from the video-recorded photovoice sessions, I began an overall initial coding to establish primary coding structures; defined a central experience; and utilized a coding structure to defi ne causes, context, and ordering (Creswell & Poth, 2016). Creswell and Poth (2016) stated that a thematic analysis ‘. . . [a] ssumes emergent multiple realities; the link of facts and values; provisional information; and a narrative about social life as a process’ (2016: 197). After completing the selective coding, I engaged in a thematic analysis of the data (individual interviews probed by their own photographs, photovoice group discussions, field notes) to create a version of the story, which I shared with Yexy, Wences and the photovoice

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participants. I appreciated their thoughts. For instance, Wences commented: Los temas que escribes relatan las experiencias al estar en contacto real de quechua hablantes como yo dentro de la universidad, que no solo estaban organizados; sino también difundían el idioma y la cultura, de las cuales estaban orgullosos. Es importante mostrar su gran activismo pero que no estaban siendo tomados en cuenta. Es cierto, podemos ver que mi universidad no estaba preparada para recibir ni tener una educación bilingüe ya que no se preocupaba en saber cuántos quechua hablantes existía en la universidad, tampoco se preocupaba en promover espacios donde se desarrollen este tipo de población. The English translation: The topics you write relate the experiences of being in real contact with Quechua speakers like me on campus, who were not only organized but also promoted the language and culture, of which they were proud. It is important to show their great deal of activism even though they were not being taken seriously. It is true, we can see that my university was not prepared to receive or have a bilingual education program because they [university leaders] did not worry about knowing how many Quechua speakers there were in the university, nor did they worry about promoting spaces where this type of population would develop. (field notes, Wences, April 9, 2018)

This member check allowed me to feel confident about the version of the story during the data analysis stage; however, I acknowledge that the decolonial thinking informed this analysis as well.

Challenges, Possibilities and Limitations

The initial challenge I faced as an Andean researcher utilizing CBP was how to stimulate photovoice participants to get involved in critical discussions. Photovoice studies aim to raise critical consciousness among the participants; that awareness happens once critical discussions ensue. When, as photovoice facilitators, Wences, Yexy and I would prompt questions, photovoice participants initially responded with only their own experiences. After the third session, their responses rapidly turned to discussions of envisioned transformations. Once students became familiar with the critical stance of photovoice methodology, they engaged deeply within their own analysis and interpretation of data and the dissemination of our fi ndings. By the fi fth session, photovoice participants suggested we document our fi ndings, publish brochures and distribute them to college friends and faculty as well as to attendants of their photo exposition. Everyone agreed and enthusiastically crafted their narratives.

Andean Research Partners Within the Research Process 59

Another possibility that transformed into a reality was the involvement of Quechua peoples not associated with the UNSAAC community university. Although photovoice methodology focuses primarily on the engagement of a specific community with a common reality, the bilingual college participants decided to expand this photovoice study and to include Quechua community partners from the city and villages. Yexy and Wences, who made up the Community Advisory Board of this CBPR study, suggested having a photovoice session in which students would speak mainly in Quechua to a Quechua community outside of college. This suggestion was rooted in the idea of reconnecting not only with each other but in sharing in Quechua with other non-student Quechuas. Wences had connections with an Association of Weavers in the Village of Huayllapata and promoted our fi rst meeting with them. He had previously served as a Quechua–Spanish translator for them during a series of workshops on fi nancial literacy and had gained their trust. This critical fi rst meeting showed us the value of local Quechua knowledge held by these women, who might often be seen as marginalized groups. The photovoice participants gladly welcomed the idea of having a photovoice session away from the Cusco district with Quechua weavers. Having photovoice students articulate their fi rst thoughts about issues related to promoting Quechua in higher education and sharing these thoughts with the Huayllapata women weavers in their native tongue, Quechua, solidified their investment in the photovoice project because they perceived the interest and concerns of these mothers and weavers about the prospects for Quechuas on the UNSAAC campus. A major limitation I need to highlight was my inability to hold prolonged dialogues in either the Quechua language or bilingual Quechua. Although I was able to sustain some conversations in Quechua, I constantly had the support of the Wences or Yexy to communicate in Quechua because I would frequently switch to Spanish and often the speaker will accommodate to my Spanish. Particularly in Huayllapa or Casa Campesina I found a lot of language support from all the bilingual college students when I was communicating with Quechua peoples from the highlands. This language limitation of mine also impacted the individual interviews with photovoice participants, as most of their responses were in Spanish to accommodate their language repertoire to mine. It was only me conducting these individual interviews because I wanted to have a more private space to talk about each of their photos. I felt that the fact of mainly using the Spanish language might limit the conversations around their experiences and visions. Notes (1)

For Dr Boaventura de Sousa Santos, ecology of knowledge refers to the premise that the epistemological diversity of the world is immense and cannot be replaced by the monoculture of scientific knowledge.

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(2) I am using ‘bilingual Quechua’ to refer to the commonly used term Quechuañol, which includes the Spanish phonology and often incorporates Spanish vocabulary. (3) The Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan is a student organization that is mainly self-sustained. This organization started in 2016 and has no relationship with and does not receive funds from the Ford Foundation. Since the summer of 2017, minimal funding has been obtained from San Antonio Abad University of Cusco. (4) Hilaria Supa Huamán is a Quechua activist for human rights of indigenous women, a former congresswoman and currently is a member of the Peruvian Andean Parliament. (5) Tawa is a collective of musicians, dancers, singers and performers who research and embody Quechuan dances. For more information, see https://es-la.facebook.com/ TAWACusco/ (6) The Hatun Ñan program was an affi rmative action program supported by the Ford Foundation; do not mistake it with the Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan (VIHÑ). The Hatun Ñan program was fi rst implemented in 2003 at San Antonio Abad del Cusco University and lasted close to 12 years. The Quechua words Hatun Ñan literately mean ‘grand path.’ This program, as do other pathways programs of the Ford Foundation, seeks to reverse discrimination in society with a support system to selective groups or discriminated sectors that inherited social exclusion. (7) Currently (2020), Emilio Tito Vega is an anthropologist working on Quechua communal confl icts-based informal mining activity in Apurimac (Peru) and is pursuing a masters’ degree in social anthropology at the Universidad San Antonio Abad del Cusco. (8) As a doctoral candidate, at that time, I also contacted the UNSAAC office of research to learn about any required paperwork. Dr. Gilbert Alagon Huallpa, the Research provost at UNSAAC did not ask for any documents. (9) Community advisory boards (CAB) include members of a community who are interested in becoming co-researchers in community-based participatory research. (10) W’atia is a Quechua-Aymara practice that probably has been used in the Andes since pre-Inka times. The w’atia is the process of building a clay oven, fi ring it and then inserting crops to cook. The end product is the cooked crop. The entire process of w’atia uses only materials from nature, except for the matches to start the fi re. (11) Casa Campesina hostel is a housing project of the Centro de Estudios Andinos y Amazonicos del Cusco that provides temporary housing for short stays of Indigenous peoples from the Cusco region. Martes Campesino is a recurrent event that takes place weekly on Tuesdays at the Casa Campesina auditorium. For more information, visit https://cbc.org.pe/difusion/martes-campesino/

4 Challenging Supay

Supay focuses on how students identify the wrong-acting of the collective unconscious as well as how photovoice participants, bilingual college students, challenge this maleficent act that limits the Quechua–Spanish bilingual practices. Supay, as a Quechua verb, means acting in a malicious or malevolent manner, acting with ill intent that holds the possibility of change. As a noun, supay refers to something evil. During the colonial period, Catholics interpreted supay as a reference to the devil himself (Martinez, 1983). Andean Quechua speakers, however, connoted the figure of the supay as a symbolic force that distracts people from following the right path. The presence of supay – used as a noun or a verb – links to the marginalization and under-use of Quechua in the university community. The power of supay is not supernatural, and humans are capable of repelling this force. Therefore, in this chapter, the theme supay extends further than the mere description of individual and collective ill intentions toward Quechua–Spanish bilingualism directed by colonial ideologies: Supay helps to visualize strategies that photovoice participants utilize to confront these forces. Regarding limitations for Quechua language use, participants identified a supay present in different spheres: individual, communal and institutional. I explain the internalized version of supay, a malignant action directed from the individual in response to a colonializing collective, under the section ‘Recognizing the supay within oneself.’ I discuss supay as manifested between members of the university community as well as the confrontation of the students toward supay within the university community, under the section ‘Confronting the supay within the university community’ Interrelations. ‘Lastly, I present the identification of the institutionalized legitimation that allows the flow of supay in the university under the section ‘Recognizing and contending with institutional supay at the university.’ To further elaborate on the explanation of this construct, I draw on the description provided by one of the photovoice participants, Diana. Diana depicts supay poignantly in her selection of visuals and narrative presented in the brochure of her photovoice study (Figure 4.1). Diana took a picture of herself about to stamp on the flower. Her visual metaphor clearly demonstrates supay as an oppressive force that 63

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Original title: Supay Translated title: To Act with Ill Intent Original text: Foto metafórica que representa la belleza del quechua en la flor de papa y el hecho de que la zapatilla este sobre la flor representa los prejuicios y las discriminaciones por las cuales no se utiliza el quechua dentro de la universidad. Translated text: Metaphorical photo that represents the beauty of Quechua, as seen in the potato flower; the fact that the shoe looms over the flower represents the prejudice and discrimination that cause Quechua to not be used inside the university.

Figure 4.1 Entry in the brochure.1 D. Ventura Aucca, 2017

feeds off the prejudice and discrimination that restricts the use of the Quechua language at the university. The subthemes below explain in more detail how supay manifests.

Recognizing Supay Within Oneself

Students who participated in the photovoice study said they do not feel embarrassed speaking Quechua at the university. They, however, have witnessed other students who suppress speaking Quechua with other university students. Avoiding its ethnic and racial association has been one reason that might explain why bilingual university students who know Quechua choose not to use it in the university setting (Zavala, 2011). Bilingual students might not want to be associated with the Quechuaspeaking population that inhabits a place at the edge of an imaginary progressive Peruvian citizenship because, in Perú, Quechua speakers represent a population marginalized by a modern economy (Hornberger & King, 2001). Attending college is an important marker of social progress, and when some students matriculate, they choose to hide their Quechua identity as campesinos 2 by rejecting their own language. This rejection of the Quechua language is a response to the racism that Quechua speakers experience. Pucahuayta, using her own photograph and commenting on it (see her quote below the photograph), brought up this point (Figure 4.2). Muchos estudiantes son de provincias y es casi predecible que saben quechua, pues sus familias hablan quechua. Aquí hay cuatro estudiantes de antropología, él es de Chumbivilcas hablamos en quechua, ella es de Chinchero ella sabe quechua pero te contesta en castellano, no se anima a hablar quizá por miedo al racismo.

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Original title: Llapanchis Yacharisun Translated title: We All Learn

Figure 4.2 Photovoice. Pucahuayta, 2017

Many students are from the rural provinces, and there is a strong likelihood that they know Quechua; since their families speak Quechua. Here we have four anthropology students: one of the male students is from Chumbivilcas, and we are speaking in Quechua. One of the female students is from Chinchero; she knows Quechua but answers in Spanish. She doesn’t feel like speaking it, perhaps because she fears racism. (interview transcript, May 5, 2017)

These discriminatory acts of linguistic self-exclusion (using Spanish rather than Quechua) are deliberate responses to the historical oppression of Quechua-speaking populations in Perú. Colonial-era dogma categorized Quechua speakers as ignorant people who needed to be civilized because they did not follow Eurocentric logic (Blanco, 2003). This internalized inferiority still appears to exist. Diana recognizes that this disassociation from the Quechua language continues to be a wrongful choice: ‘A veces lo hacemos conscientemente, sabemos que está mal, pero continuamos haciéndolo.’ [We do it consciously; we know it’s wrong, but we keep doing it.]. Some bilingual Quechua–Spanish university students dissociate from their Quechua cultural identity to avoid authoritarian, institutional discrimination as subjects who do not belong in the university environment. In her narrative and photography, Cinthia refers to this phenomenon as having ‘another face of identity,’ which students are willing to temporarily adopt due to the burden of prejudice against Quechua people (Figure 4.3). Cinthia reflects on the practice of consciously and/or unconsciously denying one’s Quechua cultural heritage – a practice that has roots in the colonial process when the selection of last names put people into racial categories. The categories of Indian, mestizo and Spaniard were colonial constructs used to categorize people, marginalize them, and create socioeconomic hierarchies (Rivera Cusicanqui, 2012). Colonialists categorized Indians – the majority of whom, in Perú, were Quechua speakers – as

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Original title: Prejuicios Translated title: Prejudices Original text: La UNSAAC cada año realiza el examen de admisión dirigido a estudiantes que culminaron la educación secundaria, al cual miles de jóvenes concurren a la universidad para poder inscribirse y postular, sin embargo podemos observar al menos en esos días que los jóvenes no vienen solos, sino vienen acompañados de sus padres. El motivo de describir este hecho nos lleva a mencionar lo siguiente: la actitud de los estudiantes universitarios frente a sus lugareños (estudiantes que aún no son de la UNSAAC y padres de familia de su comunidad) en algunas ocasiones se pudo observar como una especie de alejamiento, es decir, se evidencia que la actitud del estudiante universitario fue adquiriendo una nueva identidad, ya que ahora el espacio en que se encuentra no le permite seguir practicando su cultura andina, motivo por el cual hoy se encuentra con otro rostro de identidad, incluso podríamos decir, que ya no puede dirigirse a sus paisanos, vecinos, familiares y demás como lo hace y lo hacía antes en su comunidad. Para culminar quisiera hacer un llamado a la reflexión de cada uno de nosotros en cuanto a la identidad nuestra ¿Realmente practicamos nuestra identidad como queremos? ¿Somos libres en una sociedad donde todavía existen prejuicios y poco respeto entre seres humanos? ¿Cómo haríamos para poder cambiar esta realidad que se vive a diario no sólo en la universidad, sino en distintos espacios? Translated text: Each year, UNSAAC conducts admissions testing for students who have completed high school, and thousands of young people come to the university to register and apply. However, we can see that, at least on these days, young people are not by themselves but instead come together with their parents. The reason to describe this fact leads us to mention the following: University students’ attitudes toward the local population (students who are not yet enrolled at UNSAAC, and parents from their communities) can sometimes present as a kind of distancing. That is, it is clear that university students’ attitude is one of acquiring a new identity, since now the space they find themselves in does not allow them to continue practicing their Andean culture. That’s why today they find themselves with another ‘face of identity.’ We could even say that they can no longer talk to people from their hometowns – their neighbors, relatives and others – in the same way they do and did before, when they are in their communities. To wrap up, I would like to make a call for each of us to reflect on our identity. Do we really practice our identity the way we want to? Are we free in a society where there are still prejudices and not much respect between human beings? What could we do to be able to change this reality that we experience each day, not only at the university but in all kinds of spaces?

Figure 4.3 Entry in the brochure. C. Flores Ramos, 2017

inferior people who lacked any citizenship rights. Thus, the term Indian led to a derisive attitude toward people with Quechua first and last names. Carmen gave an example of the stereotypes that still exist against the Quechua last names, stigmatizing Quechua speakers and causing them to reject their mother tongue: Estereotipo es juzgarte por tu apellido sin conocerte, Quispe Mamani; entonces ellos dicen no será un buen profesional, quien no tiene las suficientes capacidades. No juzgar a una persona por lo que tiene o si es profesional o no, sino por la calidad de persona que es y como contribuye a su capacidad de solucionar problemas. Sino utilizar lo semejante que puede unir a miembros de la comunidad, y a través de las

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semejanzas en opinión o ideas hacer un cúmulo de oportunidades para más personas. The English translation: Stereotyping means someone is judging you by your last name – Quispe Mamani – without actually knowing you. Then they say you won’t be a good professional, that you don’t have enough capability. Not judging a person based on what they have, or whether they are a professional or not, but based on their qualities and how they can contribute to their capacity to solve problems (discussion transcript, second photovoice session).

Although these discriminatory acts contribute to a supay linked to self, photovoice participants denounced systemic supay, racist actions, and thoughts rooted in colonialism – as Pucahuayta reflected: Ichaqa noqanchis yuyarinanchis pin kanchis, maymantan hamunchis, maymanmi rinchis. Wakinqa yachasqanchismahina qhepa pachakunataqa ,paykunaqa riranku qosqoman campesinohina comunidad campesinakunamanta, chaymanta qosqopiña qonqonku runasimi rimayta. Wawankupas manaña rimankuñachu, chhayna paykunaqa wiraqochaman tukupunku. Manaña rimankuchu runasimipi,ninku paykunaqa kanku waqcha pitukukuna, ichaqa paykunan ñawpaqtaqa discriminanku runasimipi rimaq estudiantikunata,chayrayku noqa rispa nimuni,paykunata enfrentamuni,paykunawan ch’aqwamuni discutimuni, ‘manan chhayna kanachu respetanakunan, manan castellano rimaqllatachu aswan respetasqa kanan,llapanchismi munanchis respetutaqa.’ The English translation: Maybe we must remember who we are, where we come from, where we are going to. As we all know, in the past, people went to Cusco as peasants from rural communities, and then in Cusco they forgot to speak Quechua. Their children didn’t speak Quechua anymore; they became gentlemen. They didn’t speak Quechua anymore, they said, ‘We are the poor-rich.’ Maybe in the past they discriminated against students who speak Quechua. I would go to where they were to confront them by saying, ‘We shouldn’t be like in the past, we should respect ourselves, we shouldn’t just respect those who speak Spanish. We all deserve respect.’ (discussion transcript, fi fth photovoice session)

Pucahuayta not only expresses her denunciation of this attitude but also describes her response when she faces discriminatory actions among students who reflect the set of racial categories created and used since colonial times. The category mestizo designates someone of mixed racial heritage who has broken away from their Quechua associations to distance themselves from identification as Indian. The term campesino replaced mestizo during the 1970s. Students see this sort of ‘racial climbing’ (Rivera Cusicanqui, 2010a) as an act reproduced among Quechua speakers who reject their native Quechua tongue within the university.

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Interestingly, Nilda makes us reflect on the ethnic differentials within the Quechua populations related to their own levels of Quechua cultural identity pride. For her, some Quechua populations show more pride about their cultural identity than others, such as the people from Chumbivilcas. Nilda explained this based on her perception of how a well-known music band from her hometown switches to typical customs from a different province: Hay un grupo musical de Canas. En algunos de sus álbumes aparecen con trajes típico de Canas, pero más a menudo usan el traje típico de Chumbivilcas. Quizás no desprecian su vestimenta típica de Canas. Quizás la razón por la que usan esta ropa es porque necesitan más fama, quizás necesitan ser más reconocidos. Los bilingües deben darse a conocer, demostrar que saben quechua, trabajar su identidad cultural. No esconder su quechua. Cuando mis compañeros me preguntan de dónde soy yo siempre digo que soy de Canas aunque me mironean, y dicen ¿Canas? The English translation: There is a music band of Canas. In some of their [musical] albums, they appear in typical Canas costumes, but more often they wear the typical Chumbivilcas costume. Perhaps they do not despise their typical Canas clothing. Maybe the reason they wear these clothes is because they need more fame, maybe they need to be more recognized. Bilinguals must make themselves known, show that they know Quechua, work on their cultural identity, not hide their Quechua. When some of my peers ask me where I am from, I always say I am from Canas even though they stare at me, and say Canas? (interview transcript, May 12, 2017).

Bilingual students’ opinions about the self-suppression of the Quechua language and their experiences of racial discrimination based on speaking Quechua and having a Quechua last name reveal that students are aware that internal colonialism is still active among students. Recognizing the supay is necessary to trace it and individually or collectively dismantle it. Photovoice participants are constantly creating decolonial turns when acknowledging their Quechua heritage and speaking Quechua whenever they fi nd an opportunity. Confronting the Supay Within the University Community Interrelations

Photovoice participants linked the loss of Quechua language among college students not only to individual acts of racism but also to collective linguistic discriminatory acts within the university community committed by faculty and other university personnel. This discrimination derives from linguistic and colonial ideologies of a purist nature and does not offer conceptual room for Quechua–Spanish bilingualism within the university. Even so, certain students challenged other college students who

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Original title: Tarisunchu Manachu Sipasta? Translated title: Will You Find Yourself or Not, Girl?

Figure 4.4 Photovoice. C. Ccasa Aparicio, 2017.

discriminate and reject the mocking of faculty members toward the bilingual Spanish they sometimes fi nd among Quechua students. Confronting the supay depicts the active commitment of photovoice students to dismantle the ascribed colonial value to the Spanish language and therefore to the Spanish purist ideology. In addition, dismantling monoglossic ideologies are at the core of confronting supay as students envision the Quechua language and knowledge as an essential part of higher education. Under monoglossic ideologies, Spanish is seen as the hegemonic language in higher education. Through her photograph (Figure 4.4) of an illustration given her by a friend and illustrator, Carmen shows the effects of supay. For Carmen, supay in personal relationships of students, faculty, and staff members of the university are discriminatory acts that humiliate and oppress students that has to be stopped; otherwise, the Quechua, as the woman below, will remain lost: For Carmen, acts of supay by the university community cause loss of language, which leads to loss of self: La imagen nos quiere dar a conocer todas los obstáculos, indiferencias, discriminación, señalamientos que puedan determinar el fortalecimiento o muerte de la práctica de nuestro idioma materno quechua, es un mujer como cualquiera que tiene sueños y eso no quiere decir que sea débil, o vulnerable o simplemente represente al quechua perdido, maltratado, humillado, no valorado. The English translation: The image wants to let us see all the barriers, indifference, discrimination and markers that can determine whether the

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practice of our Quechua language grows stronger or dies off. It’s an ordinary woman who has dreams – and that doesn’t mean she is weak or vulnerable or that she simply represents Quechua as something that has been lost, mistreated, humiliated, and not valued (interview transcript, May 2, 2017).

According to participants, supay flows throughout the university community and considers the Quechua language as an unnecessary skill for academic advancement of the Quechua student. Bilingual students within the community challenge this view. This is what Carmen declares through her narrative, which calls on the community itself to change the way they look at things and to stop trampling their own people: Es momento de sacarle el lado positivo y valorativo a este tema que no solo concierne a alumnos quechuahablantes, esto va más allà de quien sabe hablar quechua o no. No debemos rendirnos ni doblegarnos en este objetivo para esto llamemos a la consciencia de las autoridades universitarias, maestros, alumnos desarrollemos una verdadera interculturalidad, valoremos lo nuestro, vamos si se puede. The English translation: It is time to take the positive and valuing side of this issue, which does not just concern Quechua-speaking students. This goes beyond who knows how to speak Quechua or not. We should not surrender or give way to this objective, and to do so, we call on the conscience of the university administrators, faculty, and students, to develop a true intercultural sense, to value what is our own. Let us see if we can achieve that (excerpt, brochure entry, July 5, 2017).

Students recognize that collective awareness and action are necessary to counteract actions that devalue and that erect barriers to Quechua–Spanish bilingualism in the university. Acts of devaluation, prompted by monoglossic ideologies, censor both bilingual Spanish and bilingual Quechua. Yuly sums it up: ‘Dicen, él no puede hablar bien castellano, o dicen, no hablan bien el quechua.’ [They say, he can’t speak good Spanish, or they’ve said, they don’t speak good Quechua.] Yuly’s response came from the discussion transcript taken during the second photovoice session. Another source of linguistic discrimination identified by participants relates to the use of or speaking of Spanish with Quechua influence, which linguists call ‘bilingual Spanish,’ ‘or in popular terms, ‘speaking with mote.’3 Bilingual students know about this phenomenon and recognize it in their classmates and even in relatives whom they remind that using Quechua is likely to lead to speaking ‘Spanish with mote.’ As Pucahuayta was reminded by her own sister, who is also a college student at the same university, ‘No me hables en tu idioma, si hablas quechua vas a hablar con tu mote’ [Don’t speak to me in your language. If you speak Quechua, you’ll speak your Spanish with mote.] The sister’s response came from an interview transcript made on May 05, 2017. ‘Speaking with mote’ also occurs when students speak Quechua with Spanish phono-linguistic features, whether using Spanish vocabulary,

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Spanish phonology, or Spanish word order. Quechuañol is the most popular slang term that describes this ‘speaking with mote’ in the case of bilingual-influenced Quechua. Thus, ‘speaking with mote’ includes both bilingual Spanish and bilingual Quechua, yet university students fi nd more censorship of bilingual Spanish than of bilingual Quechua, discrimination that devolves from the emphasis on standardized Spanish within the university. As a result, the communication of and with bilingual students is delegitimized by the image of a university student as one who speaks standard Spanish. As Yaneth described: Mayninpiqa yachachiqkunapas qhawayusunkiku mana allinta runasimita rimaqtiyki o castellanuta mana allinta rimaqtiyki. Mana allinta rimaqtiyki qhawasunkiku , discriminasunkiku, q’asqachiqtahina discriminacionkunata ruwanku millay uyankuta churanku yachachiqkunapas hinallataq estudiantikunapas. The English translation: Sometimes professors stare at you when you do not speak proper Quechua or proper Spanish. Every time you speak incorrectly, they stare at you. They discriminate against you. They discriminate indirectly by doing ugly facial gestures, and these professors’ behaviors are repeated by students. (discussion transcript, second photovoice session)

Speaking bilingual Spanish, ‘speaking with mote,’ as a marker of being a bilingual speaker whose fi rst language is Quechua, leads to acts of discrimination. This discrimination, in turn, becomes a factor that causes students to suppress bilingual practices. Cinthia noted: Algo que pudo frenar el hablar el quechua es la discriminación hacia los estudiantes rurales, principalmente quechuahablantes, por la identificación de que uno es estudiante quechua con la característica moteo del idioma castellano. The English translation: One thing that leads people to stop speaking Quechua is discrimination against rural students, mainly Quechua speakers, because of the identification of someone who is a Quechua student with the characteristic ‘Spanish with mote’ way of speaking. (discussion transcript, second photovoice session)

This monoglossic linguistic ideology stigmatizing bilingual Spanish leads to acts of exclusion toward students. Some students prefer not to work with students who speak bilingual Spanish because they do not want to deal with an oral presentation that might impact their grade; in this regards Yolanda said: Nosotros como universitarios a veces experimentamos esta exclusión de compañeros que hablan con mote el castellano. Cuando tenemos que hacer trabajo en grupos en la universidad se nota claramente que algunos compañeros excluyen a los quechuahablantes.

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The English translation: As university students, we sometimes experience this exclusion toward classmates who speak ‘Spanish with mote.’ When we must do group work at the university, it is clear that some fellow students exclude the Quechua speakers. (discussion transcript, second photovoice session).

Students also mention, with sadness, that some teachers participate in acts of censorship toward speaking bilingual Spanish in public. Because their teachers mock bilingual Spanish students with gestures or disapproval, they stop participating in class, preferring silence to mockery. Edgar decided to use the photovoice titled ‘Uyariway Ama Kamispalla,’ which translates to ‘Listen Without Discriminating,’ to illustrate the supay among his college instructors who hold purist linguistic ideologies that censor variants of a standardized Spanish language: Aquí reflejamos el problema de la universidad, en varias oportunidades como ya mis compañeros habían manisfestado que muchos docentes no aceptan que un estudiante este leyendo o hable mote, si un estudiante va a leer en español tiene que ser perfecto, si ven ese error el docente trata de discriminarle o bajonearle. The English translation: Here we refl ect on the problem of the university. On several occasions, like my classmates have already stated, many teachers don’t accept it if students read or speak with mote. If a student is going to read something in Spanish, it must be perfect. If the teachers see these kinds of mistakes, they try to discriminate against the student or they put them down. (discussion transcript, second photovoice session)

Censorship against speaking Spanish with mote means that students must deal with ridicule. Students challenge these types of acts in either Spanish or Quechua, indicating their discomfort. They criticize seriously in Spanish, but when bilingual students challenge these discriminatory acts in Quechua, they do so ironically, using insults. In particular, students use insults in Quechua against classmates they know or with students they suspect speak some Quechua. As Nilda states: A veces les bromeamos insultándoles en quechua, y aunque sea después de un día, aunque sea averigua que le hemos dicho. Esto es una manera de también promover el quechua, porque si te hacen renegar le insultas en quechua, la persona va a recurrir o preguntar para averiguar que le han dicho y así se le queda grabado ese acto. The English translation: Sometimes we joke around, insulting them in Quechua – even if it’s a day later, even if they fi nd out what we said to them. This is also a way to promote Quechua, because if they make you angry, you insult them in Quechua, and the person will either respond back or ask someone to fi nd out what’s been said about them, and in that way the act becomes a signifi cant reminder (interview transcript, May 12, 2017).

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Pucahuayta mentions having used q’elete (someone suffering from diarrhea) or waqcha pituco (poor rich) as insults toward some students, making mocking gestures when she speaks in Quechua. When she is sure that fellow students understand Quechua but are ashamed to use it, she elicits laughter using these insults. The insult of waqcha pituco (poor rich) particularly emphasizes the imagined socioeconomic advancement that accompanies the delinking from the ‘poor’ Quechua student. Social mobility is probably the main motivator of every Andean student for pursuing higher education, which creates a desire to overcome socioeconomical marginalization that often is linked with languages or identities that would not be compatible with the new professional identity.

Recognizing and Contending with Institutional Supay at the University

During photovoice sessions, students acknowledged the naturalization of certain ideologies that oppress students’ use of Quechua in the university community: They believe that these colonial attitudes contribute directly to institutional blindness – blindness that loses sight of the bilingualism of Quechua students who could enrich the learning environment, rather than being disregarded by a monocultural educational setting far away from a cultural responsive perspective (Ladson-Billings, 1995; Maurial & Suxo, 2011). This institution only envisions and practices systematic rules that ignore cultural responsiveness that takes into account the important role that culture plays in shaping the thinking process of students whose mother language is Quechua. In addition, the lack of university policies that promotes a culture that embraces bilingualism reinforces the Quechua students’ feelings of rejection by the collegiate community. Students argue that, within the university, Quechua-speaking students feel isolated in a hostile environment in which they cannot fi nd a space that genuinely welcomes them. Although the students have begun to identify minimal appearances of Quechua in the university setting, they consider it insufficient. Fructuoso, like most students in this study, saw a poster recently put up by the dean of research at the university (Figure 4.5): The Active Science Fund, an entity that works with deans of research at certain public universities in Perú, created this poster. It contains the Quechua words yachaninchis winarinanpaq, translated into English as ‘so that our knowledge grows.’ Fructuoso acknowledges this attempt to make the Quechua language visible in the university: Al menos el nombre del programa también está en quechua e indica que se está valorando el runasimi. No llega lo suficientemente lejos, pero ya tenemos esta oportunidad o este poco de igualdad para los hablantes de quechua. Recientemente, el quechua ha ido ganando importancia,

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Untitled

Figure 4.5 Photovoice. F. Chino Mamani, 2017

mientras que antes no había nada en quechua. Es alentador ver esto, al menos para los que hablamos runasimi. The English translation: At least the name of the program is also in Quechua and indicates that Quechua is being valued. It doesn’t go far enough, but we’ve already got this opportunity or this bit of equality for Quechua speakers. Recently, Quechua has been growing in importance, whereas before there was nothing in Quechua. It’s encouraging to see this, at least for those who speak Quechua. (interview transcript, May 26, 2017)

When asked whether any of the events were bilingual, students who participated in the workshops sponsored by the office of the dean of research answered ‘No.’ Furthermore, there is no recognition for students who want to conduct bilingual Quechua–Spanish research through the Office of the Dean of Research and the active science program. It is understandable that the university is not yet able to link to Quechua beyond a few words on a noteworthy poster; it is, however, surprising that monetary recognition exists for publications, not just in Spanish (2025 to 4050 Peruvian soles4) but also in English (from 4050 to 8100 Peruvian soles). This recognition means twice as much funding for publications published in English but zero recognition for any efforts to publish in Quechua. Although there is an apparent welcoming toward university students who speak Quechua, further recognition has not yet materialized through specific examples, monetary or otherwise. Absence of university policies that support Quechua–Spanish bilingual practices at the university is a point that requires urgent attention to counteract linguistic discrimination. Yolanda reports: Mana discriminacionta chaskinankupaq, paqarichina kanman políticas linguisticas nisqata runasimipaq chhayna runasimi rimaq runakuna

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atinkuman aswanta avansayta mana discriminacionwan, ruwasunman concursukunata costumbrekunamanta,runasimi rimaykunamanta,chaypi willanarikusunman yuyayninchiskunata. Concursukunata tusuykunamanta, takikunamanta,harawikunamanta, teatrokunamanta ichaqa llapanta runasimipi,aswanta chayta ruwasuman,chhaynata aswanta valorasunman runasimita hinallataq runantapas. The English translation: To disrupt discrimination, we would have to create language policies for Quechua, so that those who speak Quechua can progress without discrimination. That is why we must organize cultural competitions, with our dialogues in Quechua. Dance, music, poetry and theater competitions in Quechua, to exchange ideas about our collective memory. By doing all these activities, we enhance our Quechua language and ourselves who are Quechua as well (discussion transcript, fi fth photovoice session).

Students also note the lack of physical spaces within the university that truly promote the Quechua language. Daily, students such as Gabriel experience limited opportunities to promote and sustain bilingualism: Manan runasimipichu rimayusunkiku; nitaq considerankuchu. Wakin carrerakunapi manan yachachinkuchu runasimipi wakinpitaq yachachinku,chay rayku mañakuna universidadta.manan yanapawankuchu chay Sistema hinallataq reglamentupas. The English translation: They don’t speak to you in Quechua; they don’t even think about it. In some departments, they don’t teach anything in Quechua, while in other departments it’s possible; that’s what we need to ask the university for. This system itself doesn’t help us, starting with the regulations themselves (discussion transcript, fi fth photovoice session). Algo que ha podido frenar mi uso del quechua tal vez es la inexistencia de docentes universitarios que enseñen o dicten clases en quechua, desde que entre a la universidad jamás he recibido clase alguna en quechua. The English translation: Something that has led [to] my no longer using Quechua is probably the lack of university professors who teach or offer classes in Quechua; since I’ve been at the university, I’ve never taken any class in Quechua (discussion transcript, sixth photovoice session).

The minimal effort to incorporate Quechua into the curricula of university degree programs reflects a lack of interest in the university’s bilingual population. Participants of this study come from five different degree programs, but only Yuly, a communications major, mentioned that they have a mandatory Quechua course, called Rural Communication. At Universidad San Antonio Abad del Cusco (UNSAAC), of the 32 majors offered, only four incorporate courses in Quechua into their curricula (Communications, Education, Nursing and Medicine). Yuly was surprised to learn about the other realities that her classmates face because of Quechua not being included in the training of future professionals. Yuly

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Original title: Exclusión del Quechua En La Oficina Permanente de Admisión Translated title: Exclusion of Quechua in the Permanent Admissions Office Original text: La oficina permanente de admisión es la primera impresión en la UNSAAC, sabemos que la concurrencia a dicha oficina es población bilingüe estudiantil y sus padres zonas rurales; así como se muestra en la imagen no vemos escritos en quechua, ahí se ve la exclusión, discriminación. Eso es solo una parte de la realidad, así como es la primera impresión, imaginémonos las demás escuelas oficinas, aulas sin contenidos en quechua, eso no debe ser así, recalco la UNSAAC en su totalidad debe incluir dentro de sus actividades establecidas, la organización y realización de concursos en el que se vital el empleo del quechua, así haya reconocimientos, premios talvez en efectivos con el fin de fortalecer las capacidades, habilidades y competencias de los estudiantes. Existen muchos medios la difundir el quechua, como ciudadanos del SurAndino tenemos esta tarea. Y la tarea no está en solo de uno, sino está en todos si realmente queremos cambiar algo. Translated text: The permanent admissions office is a student’s first impression of UNSAAC. We know that the bilingual student population and their parents from rural areas go to this office. As we see in the image, there is nothing in Quechua. This shows its exclusion and discrimination. This is just one part of the reality. But this is just the first impression – imagine adding to that the other school offices and classrooms with no Quechua content. This should not be the case. I emphasize, the activities that UNSAAC supports should include the organization and holding of competitions where the use of Quechua is vital, as well as recognition – perhaps cash prizes – in order to strengthen students’ abilities, skills, and competencies. There are many ways of spreading Quechua, and this is our job as citizens of the southern Andes. This is not a job just for one person; everyone needs to do their part if we really want to change things.

Figure 4.6 Entry in the brochure. Y. Vargas Quispe, 2017

reflected on this hostile university climate, focusing on the admissions office (Figure 4.6): In addition to rebuffi ng exclusionary tactics after matriculation, students challenge the supay at work in the admissions process, especially the university’s lack of supportive attention for new students from Quechua communities. Bilingual Quechua–Spanish students empathize with Quechua students who are new to the university and to the experience of living in a city and take on the supportive role themselves. Gabriel tells us: Cuando recientemente los estudiantes de campo o provincia ingresan a la universidad se les puede a veces identificar por la vestimenta. Por ejemplo, el otro día vi a una estudiante y me acerqué, era una estudiante de Anta. Me acerque porque ella estaba sentada y triste; y justamente también para que ella se socialice satisfactoriamente faltan actividades sociales como las que organizamos [en el Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan]. Y que mejor que vean que hay actividades donde pueden ver un poco de su cultural o conversar en quechua. Porque hay otros estudiantes que están jugando y nada que ver, no pueden sentir como es el choque cultural cuando alguien del campo recién tiene que venir a la ciudad para estudiar en la universidad. Justamente la estudiante me comentaba que tenía problemas para matricularse en sus cursos y le pude ayudar.

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The English translation: When new students from the countryside or the provinces start at the university, they can sometimes be identified by their clothing. For example, the other day I saw a student, and I went up to her, she was a student from Anta. I went up to her because she was sitting down and looked sad. I just wanted her to have a good opportunity to socialize. We lack social activities like the kind we organize [at Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan]. And it’s better if they see that there are activities where they can see a bit of their culture or have a conversation in Quechua. Because there are other students who are playing, and it’s got nothing to do with them; they can’t feel the culture shock experienced by someone from the countryside who has just come to the city to study at the university. The student told me that she had problems with registering for classes and asked if I could help her (interview transcript, May, 14, 2017).

Collective activism by students confronts the institutionalized supay in the university, as Gabriel exemplified above. Students such as Gabriel, active members of the Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer Group (VIHÑ), report the frustration they feel after losing the physical space they previously enjoyed at the university. VIHÑ is made up of college students from rural communities who do not speak Spanish as their fi rst language; at that time all members of VIHÑ had either Quechua or Quechua–Spanish as their fi rst language. VIHÑ was founded by students upon the advice of former members of previous Hatun Ñan programs. Edgar, president of VIHÑ at that time, shared some information with me about this: El 30 de noviembre de 2016 se estructuró la nueva junta directiva y se aprobó el cambio de nombre a Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan. Esa misma fecha asumí la presidencia y para legalizar este acto solicitamos el reconocimiento institucional de la universidad. El 10 de febrero de 2017 se emitió la resolución de reconocimiento del Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan. The English translation: On November 30, 2016, the new board of directors was structured, and it was approved to change its name to Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer group. That same date, I assumed the presidency, and to legalize this act, we requested the institutional recognition of the university. On February 10, 2017, the resolution of recognition of the Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer group was issued. (field notes, Yuliana, June 1, 2017)

Members of the organization have little familiarity with the benefits that the Ford Foundation had given to the Hatun Ñan program for more than 10 years, beginning in 2003. Students such as Gabriel know there was a physical allocation within the university for Hatun Ñan, a place that focused on serving ‘indigenous’ students, Ford Foundation’s categorization of bilingual students whose first language is not Spanish. When the Ford Foundation fi nished this affirmative action project, the University of Cusco ceased to provide space to VIHÑ students who were still meeting

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Original title: Golpes y Restricciones de La Unsaac Translated title: Striking a Blow: Restrictions from UNSAAC Original text: Un importante espacio intercultural donde se reconocía y se respetaba a los estudiantes quechuahablantes fue el Programa Hatun Ñan, lo cual ha sido suspendido por no tener contar con los fondos de la Fundación Ford. La universidad debió asumir y continuar con ese proyecto. La casita que ves donde se alojaba el Programa HÑ ahora tiene un propósito muy distinto. Pese a que el modelo y principio académico de la universidad es la interculturalidad, también es reiterada en el estatuto de la universidad. El cartel desterrado que ves, que para los ex estudiantes era como su bandera sagrada, demuestra las restricciones y limitaciones hacia los estudiantes bilingües. Aquí se percibe cómo nos trata la universidad. Como miembro del Voluntariado Intercultural HÑ veo el discurso de las políticas interculturales, pero no mecanismos que sirvan a la realidad existente de estudiantes bilingües y provenientes de diferentes culturas andinas que en su mayoría son quechuahablantes. Translated text: The Hatun Ñan Program was an important intercultural space where Quechua-speaking students were acknowledged and respected; this program was suspended because it was no longer getting funding from the Ford Foundation. The university ought to have taken over and continued this project. The little building that you see here, which was home to the HÑ Program, now serves a very different purpose. The academic model and principle of the university is intercultural, and this is even reiterated in the university statutes. The discarded sign that you see – which for the former students was like their sacred flag – demonstrates the restrictions and limitations put on bilingual students. Here you can see how the university treats us. As a member of the HÑ Voluntary Intercultural Program, I see the discourse in intercultural policies, but I do not see mechanisms that serve the reality that exists for bilingual students coming from different Andean cultures, primarily Quechua speakers.

Figure 4.7 Entry in the brochure. G. Quispe Huayhua, 2017

voluntarily. When funding from the Ford Foundation ended, the university reallocated Hatun Ñan’s space for other programs. In his narrative, Gabriel shows and recounts the loss (Figure 4.7). Contending with the presence of the university’s institutional supay, students create their own spaces to practice Quechua–Spanish bilingualism. Discussions about how supay obscures Quechua–Spanish bilingualism were publicly shared by the students participating in the photovoice, such as in an interview on a local television channel (see Figure 4.8), as an action denouncing the fact that such acts still occur, yet showing that people can change. During this interview at the local TV station, students presented their most important discussions about bilingualism at the university and invited members of the public to the photo exposition on the university campus. Working under the assumption that the supay is a temporary force and not supernatural, bilingual students reject the Supay force each time they denounce its negative impact among the college community members and every time they use their Quechua, bilingual Quechua, or bilingual Spanish in the university – transparent resistance to colonial prejudice by open use of their native tongue.

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Figure 4.8 Photograph at the studio of a local TV station in Cusco. Y. Kenfield, 2017

To summarize this section, participants identified the pervasive presence of supay in their college lives, a miasma that extends beyond language. They recognized that supay encompasses an attack on the entire Quechua identity. Nevertheless, participants acknowledged that avoidance of and passive acceptance of supay is untenable. Notes (1) Although the brochure was created collectively to show some of the photographs of the photovoice participants, the narratives about the photovoices were created individually. (2) Campesino is a Spanish word for peasant. In Perú, the word campesino connotes racial and socioeconomic meaning identified with Indigenous peoples who work in the agricultural fields. (3) A traditional type of hominy. (4) The Peruvian currency is Sol. Soles is the plural of Sol in the Spanish language which translates to Sun. One United States dollar equals to around three Peruvian soles.

5 Spreading Lazos

Lazos, ties or bonds in English, represents the theme that explains the primary source of social and emotional support that students fi nd in their ties to their Quechua community for the maintenance or recovery of  their  Quechua language. During photovoice sessions, students discussed their feelings for their Quechua cultural heritage and bonds that link them to their Quechua communities. Further, the students examined these ties as they related to their orientation of social justice for themselves and their communities. These ties are limited not only to one’s family or community of origin. They extend deeply into the larger Quechua population, resonating from shared sociocultural practices and a common orientation toward resistance as a social practice of decolonization. Contemporaneously and seemingly inconsistent, this cultural legacy also creates ties that students perceive as paradoxical insofar as the Quechua language often reflects a glorious Inca past yet disarticulates from current speakers. In addition, the lazos theme concerns Quechua epistemologies, because students conceive the world from the perspective of a certain episteme, foundational knowledge and culture that they perceive sadly as vanishing together with the loss of the Quechua language. Lazos, a Spanish word that translates as ‘ties,’ identifies the connection students feel with the Quechua community. Lazos work as a primary connection to Quechua identities, language and cultural practices. Lazos nurture the continued use of the participants’ Quechua–Spanish bilingualism. Ingrained in participants, lazos cannot be ignored: They persist and transfer to a social commitment nurtured by the collectivist perspective of Quechua communities, a commitment that students discuss and enact in their university lives. ‘Lazos are what make us be who we are.’ (field note, Yuliana, May 18, 2017) In this section, I describe lazos through three subthemes identified by the participants. The fi rst, ‘collective memory in motion,’ illustrates how students see their Quechua linguistic lazos and legacy as problematized: an emotion that is applauded in rhetorical discourse but ignored in daily life as well as in college practices. The second subtheme, ‘collective justice,’ describes the motivation for using Quechua as a common thread to dignify and respect all Quechua peoples. The third subtheme, ‘communal Quechua knowledge,’ relates to students’ awareness and reflections on the 80

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loss of knowledge that goes together with the loss of the Quechua language and how the university allows these ‘epistemicides’ to take place (Santos, 2017). For them, if this knowledge is lost, so is their connection to their Quechua heritage. Lazos as Collective Memory in Motion

For many students, their reason for speaking Quechua is closely linked to their socioecological roots, a collective historical identity that resonates to their present through the linguistic practices of their communities, their cultural practices and their grandparents. Students state that this past, which flows in the present, causes them to continue their bilingual practices in opposition to a society that still cultivates an inferiority complex associated with such practices. When bilingual students speak Quechua, it is part of their experience passing through Quechua and non-Quechua spaces yet also is part of carrying space-time in their memories. Through his photography and narration (Figure 5.1), Gabriel shows us the vitality of the Quechua language that allows him to inhabit the past and present in space and time: With students, collective memory relates directly to the Quechua language. That is why they believe bilingual practices sustain memories of

Original title: Lazos Translated title: Ties Original text: En esta imagen esta mujer es como la madre para la mayoría de los estudiantes en la UNSAAC porque ella justamente refleja con su vestimenta que es Paucartambina, es de Cusco; ella refleja toda valiente, resuelta, alegre; y esto da fuerza motiva para que sus hijos también valoren y respeten su cultura y sigan con su generación, y no muera la cultura en sus hijos o nietos. Para mi esta imagen representa a la madre para los estudiantes de la UNSAAC, te hace recordar que así es mi procedencia, mi cultura, mi identidad; por qué no podría hablar como lo que mi mamita habla. Tan solo recordar o oir la voz de tus padres, es muy diferente, más aún si te hablan en quechua es una conexión muy segura. Así también lo propio ocurre si con algún amigo hablamos en quechua, te hace recordar a tus padres, uno asocia que así hablan tus padres, te está hablando tu tierra, tu infancia, ese lazo. Translated text: In this image, this woman is like the mothers of the majority of students at UNSAAC because through her clothing, she precisely depicts that she is from Paucartambina, that she is from Cusco. She represents everything that is brave, determined, and cheerful, and this gives her strength to motivate her children to also value and respect their culture and carry it forward with their generation, for the culture not to die off with her children or grandchildren. For me, this image represents UNSAAC students’ mothers. It reminds me that this is where I came from, my culture, my identity. Why wouldn’t I speak like my dear mom does. Just remembering or hearing your parents’ voice is very different, even more so if they speak to you in Quechua; it is a very secure connection. And so the same thing happens if you talk to a friend in Quechua – it reminds you of your parents, you associate it with how your parents speak, your homeland is talking to you, your childhood, that tie.

Figure 5.1 Entry in the brochure. G. Quispe Huayhua, 2017

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their origins. For them, origins defi ne their past and present as a continual march forward in their Quechua communities through iterative cultural practices and pertinent references to ancient Incan and pre-Incan civilizations. Nilda’s photograph shows the symbolic evidence of the Incan presence. We have two flags: the Peruvian flag, white and red; and the flag of Tahuantinsuyo (the name of the territory occupied by the Incan civilization), the colors of the rainbow. We also have an example of a Quechua tradition called Tupay, an annual celebration in Kunturkanki that perhaps dates to pre-Incan times and has taken on elements from the colonial period, such as the horse. Although Nilda links the Quechua language with the Incas, she also claims to be aware that valorizing Quechua is not just about treating it as an object of folklore but also about planning for its permanence in new generations using concrete facts (Figure 5.2). For students, promoting Quechua is vital to fulfi lling the goal of an institution of learning, which is to improve the quality of life in the region. Students such as Diana, who are recovering their Quechua abilities as heritage speakers, see that the Quechua language nurtures their ties with the Quechua community and helps them understand truly the community’s priorities. Diana chose a photograph showing an interaction between another student and a group of women from Huayllapata, whom they met with during a photovoice session (Figure 5.3). Heritage-language students who are in the process of recovering their Quechua language feel that their ties with the Quechua community propagate from encounters with Quechua communities in the high Andes and with their fellow Quechua-speaking students at the university. It is their source of inspiration to continue recovery of their Quechua language.

Original title: Tupay Translated title: Interlinking Original text: En algunas circunstancias solo utilizamos el quechua con otros fines sin darle el valor que se merece y a muchos que lo utilizan solo sus insultos en sus cantos carnavalescos o eventos folclóricos, pero esto no debería ser todo. cuando el quechua se debería de difundir más para que nosotros como descendientes incas nos sien tamos más orgullo de nuestra identidad y lengua. Translated text: In some circumstances, we only use Quechua for other purposes, without giving it the value it deserves. And many use it only for their insults, in their carnival songs or folkloric events. But this shouldn’t be the end of it. Instead, Quechua should be spread more, so that we, as descendants of the Incas, feel more pride in our identity and language.

Figure 5.2 Entry in the brochure. N. Conde Banda, 2017

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Original title: Paqarin Translated title: Tomorrow

Figure 5.3 Photovoice. D. Ventura Aucca, 2017

Although many of the students mentioned pride in an Incan past and recognized its imprint on current Quechua culture, they had problems with this feeling. Pucahuayta opines that the Incas should be thought of not only as something from the past that is already dead but rather as something that is redeemed and revitalized through people of Inca descent, the Quechuas – a vibrant people who still remain outside the hegemonic system (Figure 5.4). Pukahuayta photograph shows part of an Inkan archaeological site, Patallaqta, which is along the tourist-popular Inka trail to Machu Picchu. Pukahuayta emphasizes that, although the Quechua language

Original title: Ñaupaqwan, Kunanwan Hukhinalla Translated title: The Past and the Present Together

Original text: La fotografía muestra que el patrimonio material es más valorado que el patrimonio inmaterial, como el idioma quechua y las diversas prácticas de los pobladores andinos. Este mismo hecho sucede con los estudiantes quechuas de la Universidad, que a pesar de ser parte de estas prácticas y de convivir con el pasado y el presente, aún se resisten a aceptar ser parte de ello. Translated text: The photograph shows that material cultural heritage is more valued than intangible cultural heritage, such as the Quechua language and the diverse practices of the Andean peoples. This same thing happens with the Quechua university students, who despite being part of these practices and living with the past and the present, still refuse to accept that they are part of it.

Figure 5.4 Entry in the brochure. Pukahuayta, 2017

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is associated with the amazing Inkan architecture of Patallaqta, the current Quechua residents do not receive the services available at archaeological sites surrounding them. Modern emphasis on ties with the Inkan civilization creates contradiction. Students appreciate and admire their Inkan heritage, but they feel that the worldwide respect for a past civilization, boasted about and publicized by their government and fellow citizens, contradicts prejudicial actions of authorities and neighbors who cast a dark cloud over the current Quechua population still living their lives in the highlands, just as they have since the preInka era. Students expressed concern about the paradox of boasting about an Incan past but not really giving space or respect to their Quechua descendants. Through her photograph and narrative (Figure 5.5), Cinthia reflects on this disconnect, photographing part of the Incan architecture that is found within the university campus. For her, each university student carries an energy from a cultural legacy linked to pride in an Inka past, but that energy does not always translate into practices of respect for that same past by the teachers or students themselves.

Original title: Cimientos Ocultos Translated title: Hidden Foundations Original text: Una imagen metafórica que asemeja nuestro comportamiento de muchos de los jóvenes estudiantes de la actualidad. A diario ocurren situaciones, donde nuestras raíces culturales cada vez entran en lo más profundo del subsuelo, donde es menos el número de quechua-hablantes en los andes. Si bien nuestros padres son bilingües (castellano-quechua) nosotros como estudiantes, ¿somos bilingües en la universidad? ¿Cuántos de nuestros maestros nos enseñan en quechua, si se sabe que más del 30% de estudiantes de la UNSAAC somos quechua-hablantes? ¿Existe un enfoque de respeto al bilingüismo en la enseñanza? ¿dónde queda el aprendizaje de lo nuestro? Si nosotros, los jóvenes universitarios, ya no hablamos el quechua al menos dentro de la universidad, ¿dónde es que lograremos con toda libertad hablar, dialogar, indagar, investigar y hacer ciencia en quechua? Cabe resaltar que dentro de cada antoniano bilingüe o no, aún llevamos esa energía de poder reavivar lo nuestro, de cambiar la hegemonía de una lengua invasora por una diversidad lingüística que respete a todos y todas. Translated text: A metaphorical image that resembles the behavior of many of today’s young students. Situations occur every day in which our cultural roots are increasingly buried in the deepest subsoil, where the number of Quechua speakers in the Andes grows fewer. Although our parents are bilingual (Spanish–Quechua), we as students – are we bilingual at the university? How many of our teachers teach us in Quechua, when we know that more than 30% of UNSAAC students are Quechua speakers? Is there a respectful approach to bilingualism in teaching? Where is the learning that is our own? If we young university students – no longer speak Quechua at least within the university, where is it that we will be able to speak, dialogue, inquire, investigate, and do science in Quechua? It should be noted that within each UNSAAC student, whether or not they are bilingual, we all still carry that energy to be able to rekindle what is ours, to replace the hegemony of an invading language with a linguistic diversity that respects everyone.

Figure 5.5 Entry in the brochure. C. Flores Ramos, 2017

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Students such as Cinthia desire a critical evaluation of the role of Spanish as a hegemonic language. She and others believe that Quechua should not be divorced from professional training by following a monolinguistic ideology rooted in Euro-centric colonial conceptions. Such students reject the linguistic disarticulation of their identity as Quechua– Spanish bilinguals, because their daily life goes hand in hand with their past. This past goes beyond a simplistically imagined monolingual society or a legendary Inka past. Photovoice participants expressed a reverberant meme that, historically, Quechua is integral to Perú’s history as it relates to the accomplishments of the Inka empire, yet modern Quechua speakers, descendants of those empire builders, are relegated to second-class status as citizens. The participants recognize that they must fi rst overcome their own internal coloniality and then strive to encourage their classmates and the university to acknowledge, honor, and respect not only their past but their current and future histories. To promote pride in Quechua, they feel they must continually and openly practice the language and culture of their birth. They feel they can bridge memories of the lives of their parents and ancestors with modern lifestyles by retaining the lazos with their communities and by displaying collective memories, those ancient accumulations of culture, from their past, all the while acquiring information necessary to succeed in today’s Perú. Lazos for Collective Justice

The participants regard highly the role of their lazos with Quechua communities in their professional lives. They maintain these ties concretely by knowing the Quechua language, and that is why students are signaling to the rest of the student population – bilingual students in particular – to always recall that they will be professionals and that they must serve all citizens, the majority of whom in the southern Andes are Quechua speakers. They must learn well the lingua franca and mechanisms of modern society and then advocate for their communities, which often lack basic services provided to non-Quechua communities – health care, education, transportation infrastructure. Yolanda expresses this thought in her narrative (Figure 5.6). Students plan to provide service to Quechua communities not only after they finish their degrees but also currently practice this service on the university campus itself through many of their encounters with Quechuaspeaking people who come to the university and need information. Here’s what Yolanda says: La señora me pregunto maypin tarikun economia asi que la pude ayudar. La señora quizá hablaría en castellano, pero me preguntó en quechua así que la pude ayudar. Así que aproveche también para tomarle una foto. Nosotros los universitarios para poder entrar a este tipo de relaciones es bueno que podamos usar el idioma quechua y el castellano.

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Original title: Universitarios Preparémonos Para Servira Diferentes Sociedades Translated title: University Students Prepare to Serve Different Societies Original text: Entendemos que las lenguas indígenas son herramientas en la construcción de la ciudadanía y que por lo tanto deben ser preservadas y promovidas. Implementar políticas públicas con enfoque intercultural y desarrollar herramientas a través de los cuales los ciudadanos con lenguas distintas al Castellano pueden acceder a servicios como Salud, Educación y Seguridad Ciudadana debe ser una prioridad en el ejercicio de la función pública. El uso del idioma quechua es un aspecto importante para dar servicio al pueblo, sin embargo, consideramos que es aún más importante que los ciudadanos quechua hablantes se sientan respetados y bien atendidos cuando visiten las oficinas estatales y que no se sientan que son discriminados al margen del idioma en el que se habla. Aunque es cierto que ya existen políticas dentro de la UNSAAC, estas no son ejecutadas porque en sí no toma en cuenta lo dejan de lado por eso tenemos que ir a recurrir al idioma quechua que tenga Mayor interés e importancia para que los quechua hablantes no se sientan desprestigiados. Translated text: We understand that Indigenous languages are tools in the construction of citizenship and that they therefore must be preserved and promoted. Implementing public policies with an intercultural focus and developing tools that citizens who speak languages other than Spanish can use to access services, such as health care, education, and safety, must be a priority for those who exercise public functions. The use of the Quechua language is an important aspect in providing public service. However, however, we believe that it is even more important that Quechua-speaking citizens feel respected and properly served when they visit government offices and that they do not feel that they are being discriminated against or marginalized due to the language they speak. Although it is true that there are already policies at UNSAAC, they are not being implemented, because these policies in and of themselves are not considered but are instead put on the back burner. That is why we must continue to make a call for the use of the Quechua language to give it greater interest and prestige, so that Quechua speakers do not feel denigrated.

Figure 5.6 Entry in the brochure. Y. Levita Pillco, 2017

The English translation: The lady asked me, ‘Where is Economics located?’ and so I could help her. The lady might speak in Spanish, but she asked me in Quechua, so I could help her. So, I took the opportunity to take a picture of her too. We, the university students, to initiate this type of relationship – it’s good that we can use the Quechua language and Spanish (interview transcript, May 13, 2017).

Gabriel offers another example where his lazos prompted his behavior. Remembering his own struggles to navigate the university and confusion when he arrived at the university, Gabriel also tells us about helping a Quechua mother who could not fi nd the university’s orientation service to navigate the system: Una señora quechuahablante quería averiguar sobre la matrícula de su hijo, se notaba que estaba buscando información. Su hijo no pudo venir ese día, ella estaba angustiada, se notaba, por coincidencia yo andaba por ahí. Muy amablemente interactué en quechua pues ella era quechuahablante, le ayudé con la información correspondiente. Y en ese momento justamente me puse a pensar que así hay mamitas que a veces vienen de zona rural; y cuando no hay una buena recepción por parte de los estudiantes o trabajadores no se logra atenderles. Eso es lo que deseo

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mostrar que asi es la realidad en la unsaac que muchas veces hay una carencia de que los estudiantes estén atentos y sepan interactuar con ellas. A veces hasta tratan de discriminarlas, más bien deberían ser más sensibles a la realidad. The English translation: A Quechua-speaking woman wanted to find out about her son’s registration. You could tell she was looking for information. Her son could not come with her that day. You could see she was distressed, and I just happened to be walking by that way. Trying to be friendly, I interacted with her in Quechua because she was a Quechua speaker. I helped her get the information she needed. And at that moment, I just started to realize that there are moms who sometimes come from rural areas, and when they don’t get a good welcome from students or staff, it’s not possible to meet their needs. That is what I want to show, that this is the reality at UNSAAC. That there is often a lack of students who are attentive and who know how to interact with these women. Sometimes they even try to discriminate against them, when instead they should be more sensitive to their reality. (interview transcript, May 2, 2017)

Photovoice students such as Gabriel feel obligated to intercede in the absence of the university’s awareness of struggles with communication by Quechuas on campus. These students are very aware of the lack of information available for rural communities in Perú about the public university’s admissions process. In rural Quechua-speaking areas, high school teachers are the main source of information about this admissions process, and they often are not conversant in Quechua. Even when available, Quechua or bilingual initiatives regarding the admissions process are published in Spanish. The internet, our primary modern form of information transfer, is largely absent from Quechua communities. Bilingual students are cognizant of these forms of social injustice and must always remember their origins and commit to serving the Quechua population, efforts they constantly vocalize and practice. Here’s what Fructuoso says: Debería haber más espacios en la universidad y no solo en la universidad sino en todas las instituciones del estado que sirvan mejor a los quechuahablantes. Aquí hay una señora del campo que quizá es bilingüe y se sentiría feliz si le podrían atender en quechua como a cualquier ciudadano. Si una mama quechua quisiera saber sobre el examen de admisión para la universidad y si no hablara tanto el castellano, ¿a quién va a preguntar? The English translation: There should be more spaces at the university, and not just at the university but at all state institutions, so that Quechua speakers are better served. Here we have a woman from the countryside who might be bilingual and who would be happy if she could be served in Quechua like any other citizen. If a Quechua-speaking mother wants to know about the college admissions exam and she does not speak much Spanish, whom is she going to ask? (interview transcript, May 26, 2017)

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Original title: Universidad de Todas Las Sangres Translated title: University of All Bloods

Figure 5.7 Photovoice. F. Chino Mamani, 2017

The title of Fructuoso’s photo, ‘University of All Bloods’ (Figure 5.7), recalls the original function of the public university, which is to serve all students and their families, not just singling out city dwellers who are mostly monolingual Spanish speakers, but also targeting, as he says, all bloods. The students know that social injustices such as discrimination by omission are part of the reality of Quechua people. To the extent that the students are able, they are acting to put an end to such injustices. As one strategy, they are preparing themselves as professionals who want to serve the Quechua community, Fructuoso says, after reflecting on the photograph above: Esto lo relaciono con la necesidad de que los universitarios, futuros profesionales, que egresen podrían ayudar más a los quechuahablantes que son una mayoría. Por lo menos los profesionales deberían saber quechua básico o algo de noción para ayudar a la población. Yo me puse en contacto con la señora porque mi mama es quechuahablante, y me puse a pensar que sería si mi madre estaría así, se le ponga un hijo mal y no tenga ayuda. The English translation: This is related to the need for university graduates, future professionals, for them to graduate with the ability to provide more help for Quechua speakers, who are a majority. At a minimum, professionals should know basic Quechua or have some knowledge of it to help the population. I reached out to the woman because my mother is a Quechua speaker, and I started to think how it would be if my mother were in a situation like that, if she had a child who was sick and she did not have anyone to help her (interview transcript, May 26, 2017).

For bilingual students, lazos lead to commitment to promote social justice for Quechua communities. This commitment is apparent when bilingual students demand more support for bilingual practices from the university. For them, using their Quechua language means remaining close to the reality of Quechua-speaking communities in the

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Figure 5.8 Photovoice. Y. Levita Pillco, 2017

countryside, as expressed in this comment from Yolanda as well as in her photovoice (Figure 5.8). Los estudiantes universitarios necesariamente tienen que comunicarse en quechua para poder ver la realidad que hay en las comunidades quechuas, los conocimientos que hay, las necesidades que también tienen. Los universitarios al poder comunicarse pueden tener conciencia de ellos (quechuas). Ellos necesitan una valoración por parte de nosotros. The English translation: University students need to be able to communicate in Quechua to see the reality that exists in Quechua communities – the knowledge that exists and the needs they have. When university students can communicate, they can become aware of them (Quechua speakers). They need us to see them as valuable (interview transcript, May 13, 2017).

Social injustice – denying basic humans rights to health, education and equal treatment under the law – stems from justification of discrimination based on racial profi ling using appearance, last names and spoken language as evidence for denigrating selected populations such as the Quechua. Photovoice participants know this, they live this, and they struggle to employ effective strategies – decolonial gestures – to counter the ill effects of such discrimination. Their demands for recognition of and service to the Quechua communities demonstrate their commitment to their heritage. Communal Quechua Knowledges Within Lazos

Since its founding during the Spanish colonial era in the year 1692, the state university of Cusco has failed to include non-European ways of creating knowledge, disrupting and delinking in that way Andean peoples from their Quechua communities of origin. For students, linguistic disarticulation of Quechua at the university discounts legitimacy of communal Quechua knowledge. College students, photovoice participants, have

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strong opinions about the lack of bilingual Quechua–Spanish presentations or discussions in university classrooms. Use of the Quechua language by the university community would benefit everyone greatly – it would be perceived as being more open to different thinking and perspectives. Continued disregard for, even denigration of, Quechua episteme weakens students’ lazos, legitimizes institutional discrimination, and leads to attrition of the students’ culture. Photovoice participants candidly reject this diminution of their communal Quechua knowledge. Edgar, in his brochure entry (Figure 5.9), shows an altered montage of the Tricentennial Park on the university’s campus: He superimposed an image of an imaginary condor. By using the image of the condor – a bird that represents not only the Andean region but is also a sacred being in the Andean cosmology – Edgar projects a university that better reflects communal Quechua knowledge, called saberes in this interpretation. Communal Quechua knowledge emanates not only as a source of motivation for the flourishing of bilingualism but also as a reminder of collective memories absent from the hegemonic knowledge promulgated by the university. Saberes strengthen people’s daily social struggles, visions, thoughts and spirituality – integral knowledge of the Quechua people. Participants’ awareness of the importance of this communal knowledge abounds in their photographs. By their continual reference to and practice of saberes, students demonstrate their belief that to maintain their Quechua language, they must learn and remember Quechua knowledge, such as making offerings to important spirits, building a wat’ia, and learning about traditional foods and medicines such as taqe papa and pulla t’ika. Original title: El Mundo Andino en la Universidad Translated title: The Andean World at the University

Original text: El Cóndor es el símbolo del mundo andino. El bilingüe esta incluido en la universidad pero no se reconoce, falta el verdadero reconocimiento al bilingüismo de los estudiantes quechuas. Los estudiantes aprenden muchas cosas foráneas en la universidad y se está perdiendo el origen de ellos. Por ejemplo yo soy Haquireno, y tengo un amigo de la ciudad que conoce mucho de las tecnologías; y yo siento que le voy poniendo más interés a él y olvidándome lo que yo tenía antes. Es importante conocer las ciencias y todo ello pero la idea es también mantener los conocimientos que traemos de nuestras comunidades, los saberes nuestros son también importantes. Deberíamos crecer juntos en la universidad sin olvidarnos quienes somos con identidad andina. Translated text: The condor is the symbol of the Andean world. Bilingual students are included at the university, but they are not recognized; there is a lack of true recognition for the bilingualism of Quechua students. Students learn many foreign things at college, while their origins are being lost. For example, I am from Haquira, and I have a friend from the city who knows a lot about technology. I feel that I am putting more interest in him and forgetting what I had before. It’s important to understand science and all that, but the idea should also be to maintain the knowledge that we bring from our communities. Our knowledge is also important. We should grow together at the university without forgetting who we are, people with an Andean identity.

Figure 5.9 Entry in the brochure. E. Ccasani Ccosco, 2017

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Nilda shares the practice of ‘making a symbolic payment’ or delivering an offering to the Pachamama, Mother Earth; and to the mother of cattle reproduction, Chitamama; and to the protective spirits of agricultural activity, the Churusayma (Figure 5.10). In the context of environmental destruction, communal Quechua knowledge, such as making an offering to Pachamama ‘Mother Earth,’ teaches a valid cultural, spiritual, environmental belief of being nurtured by the Earth, our mother. These offerings are constant reminders to honor Earth, not desecrate her. More examples that illustrate the tie between the Quechua language, Andean epistemology and Quechua saberes can be found in this photo by Pucahuayta (Figure 5.11) and the one following by Nilda (Figure 5.12). The taqe papa (Figure 5.11), ‘the potato of plenty,’ might go unnoticed by some, but to Quechua students, it represents a bountiful or good harvest of potatoes. Taqe papa and pulla t’ika are good examples where

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Figure 5.10 Photovoice. N. Conde Banda, 2017

Original title: Taqe Papa Translated title: The Potato of Plenty

Figure 5.11 Photovoice. Pukahuayta, 2017

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Original title: Pulla T'ika Translated title: Pulla Flower

Figure 5.12 Photovoice. N. Conde Banda, 2017

Quechua language supports Andean ontologies and epistemologies for bilingual students who cross paths with Euro-centric ontologies and epistemologies. Knowledge of traditional medicine is another example of communal Quechua knowledge that is being lost along with the loss of the Quechua language. Nilda exemplifies this topic in her photograph of a specific Andean medicinal plant that exists in her community. Nilda’s discussion of pulla t’ika details the epistemicide by oppression of the Quechua language, producing an ignorance of certain communal Quechua knowledge, such as traditional medicine: El perder el quechua tiene que ver con la pérdida de conocimientos ancestrales como las plantas medicinales como esta planta de pulla t’ika, hay muchas que ya no conocemos ya. Esta flor es nativa de Anta. Antes se usaban esta planta en las fiestas, como planta medicinal también, y en las ofrendas o pagos a la tierra porque simboliza la altura de la puna; pero ahora se ve menos como otras plantas la sallica, también la yareta. The English translation: Losing Quechua has to do with the loss of ancestral knowledge, such as medicinal plants like this pulla t’ika plant. There are many of them that we no longer know about. This flower is native to Anta. Formerly, this plant was used at fiestas and as a medicinal plant and in the offerings or payments to the land, because it symbolizes the high grasslands of the puna; but now we see it less frequently, along with other plants like sallica and also yareta. (interview transcript, May 12, 2017)

Communal Quechua knowledge has been transmitted from generation to generation for centuries. This communal Quechua knowledge and practice have been preserved over time mainly through the oral tradition and practices transmitted from parents to children in the context of the dynamics of the community coexistence that characterizes Quechua peoples.

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Connection to the Quechua community through the critical collective memory, sense of collective justice and communal Quechua knowledge are sources of support that bilingual students know they must practice if they wish to sustain their Quechua language. These students desire support from the university community, hoping it will increase its appreciation of and connection to the Quechua language to truly serve all citizens of the region and country. Lazos promotes Quechua episteme that is a requisite from a communal reality that seeks as a source of life, an ecological balance, spiritual health, social equality, inspiration and retention of valuable knowledge learned by our ancestors. Participants appreciate the power of modern technology, but they know they must retain their connections to their roots through continual advocacy against unequable treatment based on racist stratification. If they don’t, not only their language but an entire culture based on survival in the Andes will disappear. Their advocacy must begin with lazos, not simple nostalgia, but with organic connections to their heritage. Retaining these connections will help them sustain their self-respect at the university and will deliver selected modern knowledge to their villages, a two-way street.

6 T’ikarinanpaq: Blooming of Quechua

T’ikarinanpaq or Tikarinanpaq means ‘to bloom, flourish or develop.’ The students actively create and imagine spaces for the flourishing of Quechua at the university to enhance their lazos and to counter the institutional and intra-, interpersonal supay. Creating spaces for the Quechua language to flourish means cultivating Quechua collectively and unraveling ideologies or practices that prevent the growth of bilingualism at the university. This theme illustrates the emerging practices of university students, as well as the projections and visions they employ for the maintenance and recovery of the Quechua language and respect for Quechua–Spanish bilingualism. Tikarinanpaq mainly focuses on the initiatives and plans of bilingual students to ensure that Quechua blossoms or flourishes in the entire university community. Tikarinanpaq embraces three forms of decolonial gestures students employ to cultivate and expand Quechua and Quechua– Spanish bilingualism among the university community. First, ‘look at what is sprouting,’ illustrates the current actions students employ to ensure that Quechua does not disappear but continues to be nurtured among them. ‘Look at what is sprouting,’ in particular, reveals the collective strength of Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan (VIHÑ) activities that recruit physical spaces for Quechua students at the university. Next, ‘rooting out deficit ideologies’ details how students confront ideologies that create a terrain hostile to development of Quechua–Spanish bilingual practices. Finally, ‘more ground to flourish in’ describes how students plan strategic measures that the university should take into account to promote and maintain bilingualism in the university community. Look at What is Sprouting

This subtheme focuses on all of the self-managed initiatives (sprouts) of students in order to recover and maintain their Quechua language and culture that they strive to promote in a framework of respect for diversity. Interculturalidad, intercultural framework, was frequently mentioned by the students and was compared to a metaphoric dialogue bridge, that is, an exchange of knowledge to improve the situation of the communities, 94

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as Edgar explains: ‘Queremos mejorar las condiciones de vida al aprender a la par de la Universidad y de nuestros pueblos.’ The English translation: ‘We want to improve the standard of living by both learning from the university and our peoples.’ (field note, Kenfield, June 17, 2017). It seems the photovoice participants’ ideal intercultural goal was always in favor of their well-being of their communities of origin, and the way to achieve that objective was through the revalorization of their own identities and recognition of the diversity of their communities of origin. It seems that interculturality was perceived as an attitude toward their collective university identity, but at the same time it seemed that the practice of multiculturalism prevailed over interculturalism. Autonomy and respect for cultural values seem to prevail the actual exchange of knowledge. In other words, recognizing the diversity of knowledge for dialogue was the starting point for these students as they moved toward co-learning in an intercultural dialogue bridge. The reality within the university and its hegemonizing language showed the acculturating practice in a space that has the ideal of practicing interculturality. Therefore, students saw as critical the role of the VIHÑ interethnic space to further promote Indigenous knowledge to transform the relationships of society, language and culture. Photovoice students discussed the importance of looking at the sprouts, the different ways the Quechua language is being used to move forward. These initiatives that are sprouting are found in their frequent meetings with members of the VIHÑ or with Quechua students in university housing, even in virtual spaces. These college students have extended their face-to-face connections to the virtual world with their chat group. They attend off-campus meetings with urban dwellers anxious to affirm their Quechua heritage. Although students receive limited systemic support from the university to encourage the flourishing of Quechua–Spanish bilingualism, they do fi nd support among themselves and are engaged in self-organizing. Intercultural VIHÑ is a clear example of student activism, comprising volunteers who persist in valorizing Quechua diverse cultures, Quechua language, Spanish–Quechua bilingualism in the university community, as well as bilingualism in Spanish and other languages. Members encourage intercultural dialogue and inspire others to take action in an effort to expand the expression of Tikarinanpaq. VIHÑ was initiated by student leaders who were part of the former Hatun Ñan program, which was funded by the Ford Foundation from 2003 to 2015. However, VIHÑ currently receives no funds from the Ford Foundation. In 2015, students decided to pursue institutional recognition from the university for VIHÑ and thus obtain some type of university funding. The university did not sustain the affirmative action initiatives such as math and writing tutoring (in Spanish), and intercultural workshops funded by the Ford Foundation. For two years, the students

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continued to hold intercultural activities on a voluntary basis, and they have continued to request institutional recognition of the Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer group, as a student organization. The Hatun Ñan program was the first to aggregate students that the Ford Foundation identified as Indigenous – based on their maternal language being listed as an indigenous language and not Spanish – and who came from provinces other than Cusco. After the Ford Foundation’s funding ended, students who wanted to maintain established ties and to manage their own agenda created an organization called Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer, VIHÑ. Looking at what is sprouting in this case means looking at the agency of VIHÑ members who collectively persist in enacting their cultural and linguistic rights within intercultural citizenship that truly recognize the knowledges of its Quechua communities. In the photovoice produced by Nilda in Figure 6.1, you can see members of VIHÑ in the main plaza of Cusco following a parade of university students for the celebration of Cusco’s city holiday. This photovoice is based on a photograph, taken in 2016, that reveals that the student members of VIHÑ were still using the banner of the Ford Foundation, sponsored by the Hatun Ñan program, because they did not have funds for a new banner. Following a continuous struggle to achieve institutional recognition, the student activists of VIHÑ fi nally achieved their goal in April 2017. Recognition as an official student organization entitled them to a physical space. Although this physical space was not an ‘entire building’ as the one granted to the former Ford Foundation’s Hatun Ñan program, it was an office, full of dreams and expectations. In addition, VIHÑ obtained a commitment from the university’s Social

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Figure 6.1 Photovoice. N. Conde Banda, 2017

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Welfare Office to provide fi nancial support for intercultural activities. This account of events is important to mention, because almost all of the photovoice participants were members of VIHÑ, and they expressed their desire to illustrate their own collective history within Universidad San Antonio Abad del Cusco (UNSAAC). In 2018, Edgar Cassani Cosscco contacted me to let me know that the students had modified a banner to better identify themselves as VIHÑ, not associated to the former Hatun Ñan program. He tagged me in Facebook to show the photograph (Figure 6.2) with the new VIHÑ banner used in the parade to celebrate Cusco’s city anniversary of 2018. In this photo, several of the photovoice participants were still UNSAAC students; interestingly, on this occasion, they decided to wear their province-based traditional dance costumes. This unique group works to provide a space not only for Quechua– Spanish bilingualism but also to offer an intercultural space that respects the diversity that each student brings to the group, especially students who migrate from the provinces in search of a university degree at UNSAAC – as Gabriel says and illustrates in Figure 6.3. Kaypi kashayku grupopi voluntariado intercultural nisqapi. Compañeruykuna amiguykuna apamuwanku, chhayna munaychatan, chaypi taririkurani hoq llaqtamanta hamuq runakunawan ima rimarayku hoq hina runasimikunata, mana sapallaychu. Noqa rimarani Apurimac runasimita, wakintaq Sicuani runasimita. Paykunawan munaychata rimarani kawsayninmanta runasimipi, allin kawsayqa runasimin. Manan hayk’aqpas runasimitaqa qonqaymanchu. hinaspapas, ninku sistema educativopi. Secretaria ofi cinapi manan rimayusunkikuchu runasimipi nitaq considerankuchu. Wakin carrerakunapiqa Original title: Universitarios Andinos Translated title: Andean college students

Figure 6.2 Photograph. N. Gomez Gomez, 2018

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Original title: Takisunchis Rimasunchis Translated title: Let’s Sing and Talk

Figure 6.3 Photovoice. G. Quispe Huayhua, 2017

manan yachachinkuchu runasimita hoq carrerakunapiqa yachachinku. Chayta mañakuna universidadta kanqa. Manan yanapawankuchu chay sistema kikin reglamentumanta pacha, chayllatan noqa atiyman niyta. The English translation: Here, we are in the intercultural volunteer group. My peers, my friends, took me there [intercultural volunteer group], and it was so pleasant. There, I would gather with people who came from other places who spoke different kinds of Quechua and not just one kind. I would speak in the Apurimac Quechua [variety], and other persons would speak in the Sicuani Quechua [variety]. I would nicely speak with them about our ways of living, how the well living is the Quechua way of living. Like the educational system says, we would never forget our Quechua, never. [However], the office secretary doesn’t speak to you in Quechua; they don’t even think about it. Some university majors don’t teach any Quechua, while other majors do. We need to ask the university to provide that. This system doesn’t help us, starting with the regulations themselves. That’s all I would say. (interview transcripts, May 14, 2017)

Practicing interculturality for Quechua students such as Gabriel and members of the VIHÑ meant it was necessary to sustain a space where diversity of Quechua variations can be recognized, expressed, and knowledge exchanged. Further, these students denounce the lack of intercultural practice on the university campus outside of VIHÑ because they acknowledge that the system marginalizes any language that is not Spanish.

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Though diminished in numbers compared to the Ford Foundation’s Hatun Ñan program, VIHÑ’s members create bonds that demonstrate their constant participatory approach and their legitimate desire to create a welcoming environment for students who want to do more than just get a university degree. VIHÑ’s members also want to create a network that promotes respect for the cultural diversity that students from the provinces contribute. The volunteers create a place for speaking that reflects their collective interests within the university community and extends to Quechua-speaking high school students; as Gabriel explains: Tenemos ya cuatro actividades para este año, el Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan tiene ahora la actividad de concurso de poesía en quechua o bilingüe. Deseamos es más invitar a los estudiantes de secundaria de provincias para que concursen aquí en la universidad y quizá como un premio una beca de la CEPRU [Centro para Admisión Preuniversitaria]. Para esta actividad tenemos pensado pedir ayuda del Ministerio de Cultura y Proyección Social. The English translation: We have already had four activities for this year. The Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer group now has a poetry contest for Quechua or bilingual submissions. We would like to invite high school students from the provinces to participate here at the university, and perhaps as a prize there could be a scholarship from CEPRU [Center for College Admission Training]. We plan to ask for help from the Ministry of Culture and Social Projection to support this activity. (group discussion, eighth photovoice session)

VIHÑ meets frequently, creating activities not only to maintain bilingualism but also to valorize Spanish–Quechua bilingualism, activities such as the ones Gabriel describes when discussing the organization of bilingual literary contests. It is noteworthy that members of VIHÑ hold meetings not only at the university campus but also in spaces outside the university – for example, on mountain roads, as we see in the following photovoice, a picture of an old Inka trail in the area of Tambomachay (Figure 6.4). By expanding student meetings into spaces that cut across the divisions between urban and rural, academia and nature, Spanish and Quechua, students travel between places for enunciation, as Edgar mentions: Aquí estamos en una reunión de campo del grupo Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan que promueve el bilingüismo, ya que para mantener el quechua se requiere difusión y comunicación, el titulo para esta foto seria Juntos Si Podemos porque juntos podemos caminar para adelante. The English translation: Here we are in the countryside, having a meeting of the Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer group that promotes bilingualism, because in order to maintain Quechua, we need to spread it and communicate in it. The title for this photo would be ‘Together We Can,’ because together we can move forward. (interview transcript, May 29, 2017)

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Original title: Juntos Si Podemos Translated title: Together We Can

Figure 6.4 Photovoice. G. Quispe Huayhua, 2017

VIHÑ also promotes activities for intercultural dialogue through involvement with intercultural forums at other universities in the southern Andes. For example, members of VIHÑ have been invited to events of the International Network of Intercultural Studies at the Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú. As Gabriel comments on his experience (Figure 6.5). Esta imagen fue tomada en una de las actividades del Voluntariado Intercultural de Hatun Ñan, es en un foro intercultural, nos encontramos estudiantes de diferentes provincias de Apurimac y Ayacucho, no solo del Cusco el 2016. En reuniones así, que se lleva a cabo conjuntamente con estudiantes como uno mismo, te motiva, y no solo te motiva sino te hace sentir seguro para expresar y manifestarte para hablar en quechua. Original title: Kusi Rimarikun, Kausarikuy Llaqtachikpi Hinaraq Translated title: It’s Good to Socialize with Other Cultures

Figure 6.5 Photovoice. G. Quispe Huayhua, 2017

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The English translation: This image was taken at one of the activities that Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer Group participated in, at an intercultural forum where we met students from different provinces – Apurimac and Ayacucho, not just from Cusco, in 2016. At meetings like this that are held jointly with students like ourselves, it motivates you. And not only that, it makes you feel safe to express yourself and make statements, speaking in Quechua. (interview transcript, May 14, 2017)

VIHÑ is creating a powerful, effective, collective force that promotes linguistic and cultural diversity. In addition, VIHÑ enables an academic environment that supports new students, most of whom are the first generation in their families to attend a university while learning to cope with both a university city and an extensive academic system. Although VIHÑ’s activities for university students (cultural, intercultural, meetings) within and outside the university campus have been one of the main mechanisms through which the organization has promoted the valorization of Quechua at the university, during the photovoice sessions the students formulated new proposals for intercultural dialogue. The VIHÑ students are keen to expand their intercultural dialogues, to have more dialogue between students, and to extend intercultural dialogue to Quechua communities (Figure 6.6), as Cinthia says: nisqankuman hina harawikunta llallinakuykunta ruwanchis cheqaqchu, ichaqa aswanman rinanchis, rinanchis aswan ñawpaqman rinanchis noqanchis reqsichiq. Hamusunman kay llaqtakunaman. Chhaynaqa noqanchis munakunanchis llaqta ukhupi runasimikunata hinallataq hawa llaqtapi runsimikunata imayna manan khunachan tarishanchischu . . . imaynapas kay ukhu llaqtapi tiyaqkunata. The English translation: Like they say, we have poetry competitions, it is true, but we must go beyond that, go further forward. We have to go out so they know. We could go to these villages, then we could also revalorize

Figure 6.6 Photo of students listening to Cinthia in Huayllapata. Y. Kenfield, 2017

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the diversity of Quechua that exists both in Andean society, which means the communities, and like we are seeing right now . . . as well as in purely urban societies (group discussion, fi fth photovoice session).

It seems that the political macrosphere of the Peruvian government’s intercultural policy discourse was reproduced among some VIHÑ students who conceived of intercultural dialogue as congruent and balanced. This harmonizing view of interculturality reflects the colonial legacy, like mestizaje, where the dominant culture tends to impose itself and demand that the dominated give up their perspective. This harmonizing view of interculturality was problematized during the sessions of photographers when they reflected on the limit of the thought of interculturality as mere exhibitions of cultural practices. One way the VIHÑ thought about sharing their realizations, removed from the microsphere discourse of interculturality, was having a photovoice exposition in Quechua. During the photovoice sessions, the members of VIHÑ initiated conversations about the critical importance of practicing intercultural dialogues that remain connected to the Quechua community in both rural and urban areas. Casa Campesina was considered by the photovoice students as a site for this rural–urban connection to take place in Cusco city. After this process of building relationships with Quechua villagers and Claudia Cuba at Casa Campesina through the photovoice sessions, the students decided to hold the first photo exposition during one Campesino Tuesday meeting; they did this after expressing their level of comfort with Casa Campesina (Figure 6.7). In addition to meeting guests from Quechua communities, the students met other university students and professionals who go to Campesino Tuesday to maintain or recover their Quechua language and to sustain connections to the real-world situation of Quechua speakers.

Figure 6.7 Photo of Cinthia dialoguing in Quechua at Casa Campesina. Y. Kenfield, 2017

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After the discovery of Campesino Tuesdays and initial participation in discussions using Quechua, VIHÑ members were motivated to deepen their ties with Casa Campesino, recognizing this urban space as a place for intercultural dialogue in Quechua. Cinthia says: ‘De hecho en los martes campesinos podemos exponer nuestros estudios, así podemos usar el quechua con los compañeros del campo en la ciudad.’ The English translation: In fact, at Campesino Tuesday we can make a presentation about our studies, so we can use Quechua with our rural companions in the city (discussion group, 11th photovoice session). Fructuoso also expresses his desire to share his thesis topic at Campesino Tuesday: ‘Una vez que tenga mi tesis finalizada sobre el sistema de congreso peruano quiero exponerla en quechua en la casa campesina, como ya tenemos un enlace con los martes campesinos.’ The English translation: Once I have my thesis about the Peruvian congressional system completed, I want to present it in Quechua at Casa Campesina, since we already have ties through Campesino Tuesdays (discussion group, 14th photovoice session). In addition to VIHÑ’s gatherings, La Vivienda Universitaria (student housing) is a space where students can use Quechua; three of the photovoice participants reside there. Student housing is a university project that provides temporary housing to UNSAAC students; it is a project restricted to students from rural provinces in Perú, other than Cusco province, and who do not have relatives in the city. UNSAAC students who reside in the student housing often speak Quechua or other Indigenous languages. Quechua also sprouts on the university campus, in classrooms and offices of departments where both students and teachers value Quechua, such as the Anthropology Department. Pucahuayta describes: Universidadman risqaymantan profesorkunata ima reqsini, maymantas kanku, huñunakuykun, k’aminakuyku. Chhaynata takiyku,p ukllayku chansanakuyku runasimipi,chay raykun mana qonqanichu.yachanin Antropologiata hinaspataq piwanpas runasimita rimayta atini ,asikuytapas,runa simiykupi rimayku, mana atiykumanchu chayqa manacha imatapas rimaykumanchu hoq llataqtakunaman rispa,chay raykun manan qonqanichu. Nisqayman hina mana qonqaymanchu, chaymi allin. Chay raykun, estudiasqaymanta pacha manan qonqayta munanichu. The English translation: Since I have been at the university, I’ve gotten to even know where professors come from, and we’ve gotten together and traded insults. So we sing songs, we play games, we joke around in Quechua, and that’s why I’ll never forget who I am. I’m studying anthropology, and that’s why I can speak [Quechua] to anyone. We [in anthropology] laugh, we speak in my language, and if I didn’t know it, I wouldn’t be able to speak at all whenever we would go to the communities. That’s why I won’t forget it. Like I say, I wouldn’t forget it, which is a good thing. That is why since I started studying anthropology, I came to the conclusion that I don’t want to forget it (interview transcript, May 5, 2017).

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Anthropology students have also advanced their own initiatives to promote Quechua in their department. Diana, an active member of the Anthropology Student Association, says that, starting with previous federated centers, ‘The initiative to offer conversational tutoring in Quechua was implemented. The tutor is an anthropology student, and his reward is symbolic.’ Students also maintain and learn Quechua through two main virtual media applications: Facebook and WhatsApp. Using these tools, not only do UNSAAC students who are recovering their Quechua help each other, but they can also connect with students in other regions of the country. As Cinthia says: Nos mostramos a veces con compañeros lo que envían por WhatsApp, a mí me gusta escuchar lo que algunos envían del quechua ayacuchano, yo como tengo parte sangre ayacuchana me gusta oírlo. The English translation: We sometimes share with other fellow students what people send us on WhatsApp. I like to listen to what some people send in the Ayacucho Quechua [variety]. Since I have some Ayacucho blood in me, I like to hear it (interview transcript, May 26, 2017).

Andean students interact on Facebook, but WhatsApp is more accessible because it costs less. It also allows them to record and listen to audio messages. In her comment above, Cinthia mentions how she likes listening to other varieties of Quechua. The appreciation for the diversity of Quechua resonates among Andean students. Participants in this study represented three variants of Southern Quechua: Cusqueño, Apurímac and bilingual Quechua. Belonging to or being connected to different Quechua communities helps students appreciate the diversity within Quechua communities. This diversity is important to them, because they recognize differences even within the Quechua variants they speak. Respecting all forms of Quechua is key to the flourishing of the language: Students take any opportunity to learn about different Quechua communities, whether or not they have direct ties to them. Sprouting, then, encompasses a broad variety of activities – personal, group, virtual – that bilingual students enjoy to replenish their own sense of belonging and to broaden appreciation of Quechua. It is a dynamic theme, and its dynamism stimulates the students to appreciate even more their heritage. Staying connected, feeling a sense of purpose, helping others understand and appreciate themselves, rejecting their own inner feelings of coloniality: All are positive outcomes. Even more, these students perceive a bright future for bilinguals. From all of their efforts, students believe that ties to a national initiative are within their reach. One example was when the photovoice participants joined an initiative to produce software that can transcribe Quechua

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Figure 6.8 Flyer shared via WhatsApp. L. Camacho Caballero, 2017

audio into text, an action organized by the Universidad Católica de Lima. Proudly, the participants shared with me the following flyer via WhatsApp (Figure 6.8). It is an invitation that sought to bring together 1,000 volunteers who are native speakers of Quechua: Rooting out Deficit Ideologies

Rooting out ideologies that oppress bilingualism creates fertile terrain for Quechua to flourish or blossom. This subtheme addresses decolonial gestures of students who confront deficit ideologies toward Quechua– Spanish bilingualism at the university, in social contexts, even daily in their family environments. Photovoice students resist the socialization to comply deficit ideologies toward the Quechua language and practices. Photovoice students reject ideologies that promote purist language ideologies, standardized language ideologies (Rivera Cusicanqui, 2010a), and modern ideologies (Maldonado-Torres, 2011). In addition, photovoice students project ways to better engage members of the university community in battling these ideologies that maintain coloniality. These college students affi rm that a collective effort is urgent to root out deficit ideologies toward Quechua (language, cultures and epistemologies). Students sense that because remnant colonial ideology still views speaking Quechua as a deficient, community members feel embarrassed to speak their mother tongue or even to identify as Quechua. Students

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such as Pucahuayta rejected this ideology and reaffirm their stance regarding Quechua: Manan profesorniykunapas ni pipas universidadpiqa faciltaqa rimayusunkimanchu runasimipiqa, hinaspapas p’inqarikunku. Universidadpi runasimita rimanki chayqa qhawayusunkiku universidadpi runasimita rimanki chayqa critisunkiku nisunkiku chayqa comunidadmantan payqa seguro campesinoq wawancha chhaynatan ninku ichaqa imataq noqaman qokuwan, chhaynan noqaq kayniy,noqa allinmi kashani runasimi yachasqaymanta. The English translation: It is not easy to get anyone at the university to speak to you in Quechua, neither professors nor anyone else, and so they feel ashamed. If you speak in Quechua at the university, they [peers] criticize you, they say, ‘She is from a community, it’s certain she’s the daughter of a peasant.’ That’s what they usually say, but it doesn’t matter to me. Because this is how I am, I’m fi ne, I’m very proud to know Quechua. (group discussion, fi fth photovoice session)

As Pucahuayta affi rms, the photovoice participants feel very proud to speak Quechua: They actively seek to overcome the embarrassment of speaking Quechua, hoping to inspire others to set aside their embarrassment in the same way. By persisting in valorizing Quechua, students interdict the dynamics of a linguistic ideology that views bilingualism as deficient: They encourage people to switch back and forth between Spanish and Quechua without limitations. The students expressed hope that faculty members also can be motivated, as Edgar noted in his thoughts on this topic: En este grupo fotovoz u otros grupos culturales como voluntariado intercultural Hatun Ñan mucho hablamos el quechua. Eso llevamos hasta nuestra facultad, ahí en la escuela profesional donde estudiamos ahí adentro hablaríamos en quechua en cualquier cosa que organizamos exposiciones, podremos exponer en quechua al profesor le puedo decir: ¿puedo hablar en quechua?, le bajaríamos, entonces así se avergonzaría. El profesor diría ah estos si saben hablar en quechua y yo solo se castellano entonces yo también quisiera saber así le impulsaríamos a hablar en quechua. The English translation: In this photovoice group, or in other cultural groups such as the Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer Group, we speak Quechua a lot. We even bring this up with our department. There, in the professional school where we are studying, inside the department itself, we would talk in Quechua about anything; we would organize expositions, making a statement to the teacher in Quechua. There, I could say: ‘Can I speak in Quechua?’ and we would bring him down, and so he would feel ashamed. The teacher would say, ‘Ah these kids, if they know how to speak in Quechua and I only speak Spanish, then I would also like to learn it’ –and that’s how we would encourage people to speak in Quechua. (group discussion, eighth photovoice session)

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Students such as Edgar also imagine challenging their teachers to be able to make presentations in Quechua – and in this way, they would use bilingualism in a public space, especially in the classroom, where, traditionally, only Spanish is permitted. In addition to valorizing Quechua, students rebuff or counteract ridicule from other students toward bilingual Spanish and bilingual Quechua. By taking action against this teasing, they raise awareness among the university’s student community regarding Quechua–Spanish bilingualism. As Edgar commented on this issue: Mana allinta rimaqtiy, wakin asikunku niwanku, imatan rimashanki?, maymantan hamuranki?,chhaynatan asipayawanku wakinkuna. Noqaqa rimashallani manan dejakunichu. chaymanta qhawarisqayaman hina allintan reqsinanachis, noqanchis valorananchis ima raykun qhepa taytanchiskuna kay runasimitaqa saqerawanchis kay simitaqa noqanchis valoraninchismi. The English translation: When I do not speak [Spanish] properly and speak with mote, other people laugh and say, ‘What are you talking about? Where did you come from?’ But I keep speaking. I don’t let myself be humiliated. Then, I started a self-analysis and realize that we should know our [Quechua] language well, we must value ourselves because in the past our ancestors left us this language and we must value it. (group discussion, sixth photovoice session)

Raising awareness as a way to handle this ridicule improves attitudes toward bilingual Spanish as well as bilingual Quechua. The students strive to eliminate idealizing a perfect or pure language, because this causes bilinguals to feel linguistic shame. Such a purist ideology harms the maintenance and flourishing of the variety of Quechua or Spanish that students retain, as Pucahuayta and Cinthia mentioned: Yo creo que el momento en que podemos concientizar es en el momento en que él te señale, porque si yo te digo tú hablas el idioma quechua pero no lo hablas bien, imagínate cuantas personas están en lo mismo, y cuando tú lo señalas es el momento en que ellos empiezan a negar su idioma también. Es el momento decirles que yo soy bilingüe y mi manera de hablar el quechua es así y voy a mejorar para hablar mejor. Las culturas cambian, entonces el quechua no permanece intacto en las sociedades. Pero eso sí, si vamos a tender al perfeccionismo… hasta yo diría yo no hablo un buen quechua entonces no me atrevo a exponer en quechua, el tema del purismo para mí en una barrera. The English translation: I believe that the time to raise awareness is at the moment someone points you out, because if I tell you that you speak Quechua but don’t speak it well – imagine how many people are in the same position? And when it gets pointed out to them, that’s the point when they start to deny their language too. That is the time to tell them

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I’m bilingual, and my way of speaking Quechua is like this, and I’m going to improve so I speak better. Cultures change, and so Quechua doesn’t remain monolithic in societies. But yes, if we strive for perfectionism . . . I might even say I don’t speak proper Quechua, so I don’t dare make a presentation in Quechua. The issue of purism for me is a barrier. (group discussion, eighth photovoice session)

In addition to purist sociolinguistic prejudice, ideologies of social progress must be rooted out with urgency in order for Quechua–Spanish bilingualism to flourish. The students advocate changing the perception that Quechua language is a barrier to progress. They hold a perspective that is counter even to the views of some of their parents who believe that Quechua can interfere with their children’s social mobility. Fructuoso reflected on this familial divergence (Figure 6.9): Mayninpiqa hawa llaqtapiqa piensanchis wawanchisqa manan runa simita yachananchu, paykunaqa manan noqa hinachu kananku.mayninpiqa chhaynatan piensanchis,ichaqa mana allintachu piensanchis imarayku runasimiqa sumaqmi chay ukhupin tarikun sumaq kaynin. The English translation: Suddenly in the countryside, we think, ‘My children should no longer know Quechua; they should not be like me.’ Sometimes we think that way, but that’s the wrong way to think, because Quechua is very beautiful, and that’s where you fi nd the part that is original. (group discussion, fi fth photovoice session)

Fructuoso claims that sometimes in Quechua communities, fathers and mothers share the mentality that being Quechua and speaking Quechua have no value compared to an idealized world of progress. The students

Figure 6.9 Photograph in Huayllapata while Fructuoso is talking. Y. Kenfield, 2017

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affirm that it is time to stop seeing themselves in that way and instead to demand rights and not allow discrimination. This stance that valorizes Quechua language and peoples dismantles deficit ideologies. Students are convinced that valorizing Quechua speakers is the primary way to respond to the disrespect that Quechua speakers continue to face – in general and even at the university. Another important way to combat deficit ideologies is to provide training and workshops that invite critical discussions about Quechua–Spanish bilingualism for and with university teachers. Students see teachers as critical allies, as Carmen explains: ‘Considerar que los docentes a quienes no les interese el quechua que los invitemos a taller de concientización como este fotovoz para que respeten a los quechuahablantes.’ The English translation: Think about teachers who aren’t interested in Quechua, if we invite them to an awareness workshop like this photovoice, to encourage respect for Quechua speakers (group discussion, ninth Photovoice session). Although valorization is an important step as a gesture of solidarity, students also have expressed the need to address deficit ideologies by not being bystanders when they hear or see discriminatory acts toward Quechuas. In addition, the need to hold awareness-raising workshops to combat harmful ideologies towards Quechua-speaking bilinguals is described in their agenda to battle ideologies that inhibit the growth of Quechua. They have a strong connection to their history through the Quechua language and know, even against their parents’ wishes, that they must retain that language as the portal to their past. Beyond feeling shamed of the way they speak, they proudly proclaim their ethnicity through their languages. And they poke and prod others, students and teachers alike, to follow suit. More Fertile Ground to Flourish

Students continue to develop administrative-level proposals to create an academic terrain that allows Quechua to flourish. These proposals focus primarily on Quechua, the nearly extinct indigenous language within the university community. For students, this terrain has to do with fostering concrete university mechanisms, policies and research agendas that systematically contribute to the flourishing of Quechua. They believe it is critical that Quechua be mandatory for all degree programs in order to train professionals who are familiar with and have knowledge of Quechua, professionals who then have a closer connection to Quechua-speakers who inhabit the region. This goal is achievable, as Nilda mentions, if Quechua classes are included in each program of studies: ‘En el centro de idioma, pues va a ser difícil que nos den [clases de Quechua] gratis; sino en cada carrera que se implementen cursos de quechua.’ The English translation: At the language center will be difficult to offer them [Quechua classes] to us for free; but for Quechua classes to be

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implemented for each degree program (group discussion, ninth Photovoice session). Cost is important because many students at this state university do not have the fi nancial means to do anything other than buy the materials their degree program requires. UNSAAC is a state university where tuition each semester is less than US$40 for 12 to 18 credit hours, which it is fairly affordable for Quechua peoples. However, the language courses are offered for extra fees at the Language Center at UNSAAC. The monthly fee per language course costs around US$30, not a lot in Western economies but a formidable sum to these Andean students. Thus, it would be hard to cover extra cost with increased tuition, which means the university would have to dedicate more of its budget to placing Quechua coursework in all of its curricula. Again, this is a complex request because of the many variants of Quechua. From the students’ perspective, to stress the importance of respecting all varieties of Quechua is crucial, Pucahuayta emphasized: El quechua que sea gratis para todos en cada carrera, que al menos no sea un curso de tres créditos, sino tal vez cinco créditos y que se den al menos tres cursos para aprender lo básico. Y que los docentes que van a enseñar tengan dominio, y que respeten las diferencias dialécticas del quechua. Pienso que se debe presentar como proyecto que se enseñe el quechua si o si como parte de la formación profesional, para todos no solo para quechuahablantes. Se presentaría el Proyecto directamente al rector. The English translation: Quechua classes, they should be offered for free, for everyone in each degree program, and they should be more than three credits, maybe five credits at a minimum, and they should offer at least three classes so students can learn the basics. And the teachers who are going to teach should be fluent, and they should respect the dialectical differences in Quechua. I think it should be presented as a project to teach Quechua, as part of the professional training, for everyone and not just for Quechua speakers. The project should be presented directly to the chancellor. (group discussion, eighth photovoice session).

Pucahuayta emphasizes the theme of respect for variants of Quechua because not all Quechua-speaking students necessarily speak the Cusqueño variety. In addition, students feel that efforts to help Quechua flourish in the university should focus not only on students but also on the teaching staff, either encouraging them to take Quechua courses or recognizing bilingualism when hiring teachers. As Yolanda says: ‘Para pedir la obligatoriedad a los estudiantes primero sería pensar en que los profesores también estudian quechua, tomar un criterio al contratar a profesores.’ The English translation: To ask for it to be required for students first also leads us to think that teachers should also study Quechua, that it be taken as a criterion when hiring teachers. (group discussion, ninth photovoice session)

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While some faculty members, whether they are Quechua speakers or not, express a positive attitude toward Quechua, no concrete mechanisms exist to promote the use or study of Quechua among teachers. Cinthia reflects on the topic: Hay docentes que no dominan el quechua, pero también sabemos que hay docentes quechuahablantes, quizá al postular a la docencia sería un requisito que se considere en la univerdad. De esa manera los docentes quechuahablantes podrían impartir algunas lecciones en quechua, no sería el total de los docentes, pero si se aspiraría poco a ello. The English translation: There are professors who aren’t fluent in Quechua, but we also know that there are Quechua-speaking teachers. Maybe when they apply for a teaching position, it should be a requirement that the university considers. In this way, Quechua teachers could offer some lessons in Quechua. It wouldn’t be the entire faculty, but that’s a little bit like what we might aspire to. (group discussion, eighth photovoice session)

In her statement, Yolanda echoes the other students’ appreciation for the major effort and cost that providing Quechua in the classroom entails, but the students want to see a start in that direction by the university. The language center at UNSAAC, a space where university students, teachers, staff and residents of Cusco have the option to study the Quechua language, provides another opportunity for Quechua to flourish. It offers five languages: French, English, Italian, Portuguese and Quechua. To graduate, university students must complete a certificate in a ‘foreign language’ (Quechua, for some reason, qualifies for this classification), either from the language center or another institution. According to UNSAAC statistics, most students graduate having studied English or Italian, with the third most popular certification being Quechua. The language center is not free, unlike the for-credit classes offered by the university. Therefore, only students who can afford language classes at this center have access to them. Removing the cost factor from the center would greatly increase students’ access to Quechua. The only mandatory Quechua courses for the university’s professional majors are basic Quechua for communications majors and two courses in applied Quechua for education, nursing and medical students. Students such as Cinthia insist (Figure 6.10) that Quechua should be a prioritized elective for all students: To be a future professional, students should have a social orientation toward the Quechua population: Bilingual students who tried to take Quechua classes at the language center also mention their frustration with the teachers there: Faculty at the center neither recognize nor respect their variants of the Quechua language. One complication: No consensus exists about the number of variants of Quechua; however, according to Torero’s (1964) classification

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Original title: Empecemos Por Lo Nuestro Translated title: Let’s Start With Our Own Original text: ¿Por qué no son más los que eligen estudiar quechua? resulta que recientemente el idioma quechua fue reconocido por la autoridad universitaria como una lengua con la cual el estudiante universitario pueda adquirir su grado de bachiller, lo cual hasta hace unos años, no era así. Esta es una de las causas por la cual el estudiante universitario no se siente motivado para estudiar el quechua y obtener un certificado de estudios de dicha lengua. Con esto queremos manifestar que no hay una promoción igualitaria de lo nuestro con el resto. No es posible que se mercantilice de esta forma la enseñanza de los idiomas. Somos una universidad, donde hay estudiantes de diversas provincias, hasta regiones que hablan el quechua, muchos de ellos, como idioma máter. Sin embargo, al ingresar a la universidad casi nadie dialoga en quechua, por lo que los estudiantes deben hablar solo en castellano. Translated text: Why don’t more people choose to study Quechua? It turns out that recently Quechua was recognized by the university authorities as a language that university students can use to fulfill their requirements for a bachelor's degree. Until a few years ago, it wasn’t like that. This is one of the reasons why university students don’t feel motivated to study Quechua and obtain certification in that language. With this, our intention is to say that our language doesn’t receive the same promotion as other languages. It’s not possible to market language instruction in this way. We are a university, where we have students from different provinces, with many of them being areas that speak Quechua as their maternal language. However, when students come to the university, almost no one speaks in Quechua, and students must speak only in Spanish.

Figure 6.10 Entry in the brochure. C. Flores Ramos, 2017

of dialects, there are 16 main varieties of Quechua, of which two are found in the southern Peruvian Andes: Qosqo-Qollao and Chanca. Students in this photovoice study identify their Quechua variants as one from Apurímac and the other from Cusco; these variants are subvariants of the Qosqo-Qollao dialect. The students insist that the teachers who teach Quechua must be sensitive not only to Quechua variants but to the legitimacy of speech produced by people who have learned their maternal language orally, not from formal instruction. That is a frustration that Pucahuayta articulates: A mí me pareció algo contradictorio que yo que he aprendido desde niña el quechua paralelo juntamente con el español, y resulta que una persona quien su lengua materna es el español y aprendió luego el quechua a mí me quería corregir como se escribe, me decía no se escribe así. Yo quería usar como a mí me habían enseñado. Luego también hubo una discusión del tri-vocálico o penta-vocálico. Y yo como soy de Apurimac tengo mi variedad, y esta persona me decía que la palabra no era así. Personalmente me he decepcionado. Pienso que las personas que enseñen deben respetar las variantes. The English translation: It seemed to me somewhat contradictory that I have learned Quechua since childhood in parallel with Spanish, and it turns out that a person whose maternal language is Spanish and then learns Quechua would want to correct how I write, telling me it’s not

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written like that. I wanted to use it the way I had been taught. Then there was also a discussion on the issue of spelling Quechua using three-vowel or five-vowel [orthographic system]. And I, since I’m from Apurimac, I have my variant, and this person told me that’s not how the word is. Personally, I felt disappointed. I think that the people who teach should respect the variants. (group discussion, eighth photovoice session)

The assessment test gauges the level, either high or low, of linguistic knowledge that a prospective student claims to know. The results of this test determine at what level the student will start: basic or intermediate. The Quechua assessment test at UNSAAC’s language center does not have a listening or speaking component; it has only the writing component, which assesses Quechua composition, grammar and reading comprehension. Evaluating a person who has Quechua as their first language using a test focused primarily on Quechua grammar does not make much sense, because education in Perú does not focus on developing Quechua grammar in schools. Writing is an area that would contribute to students’ development of Quechua–Spanish bilingualism at the university. Although the subject of writing was not central for all students, they did say that writing would help to make Quechua more visible at the university. The students imagine the written presence of Quechua in libraries (Figure 6.11). With respect to this type of initiative, Edgar commented: A través de esta imagen puedo decir que un estudiante puede disfrutar más de la lectura si hallara la lengua y cultura quechua en la lectura. A través de la escritura del quechua se oficializa y se logra su reconocimiento. En la universidad la mayoría de libros en la biblioteca son en español a veces inglés, y para personas que tienen una orientación hacia el bilingüismo no hallas textos en quechua, pero si habría libros bilingües la persona misma se motivaría a leer y hacer su investigación del idioma quechua. The English translation: I’m using this image to say that a student can enjoy reading more if he or she sees the Quechua language and culture in what he or she is reading. Using Quechua in writing makes it more official Untitled

Figure 6.11 Photovoice. E. Ccasani Ccosco, 2017

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and helps it to achieve recognition. At the university, most of the books in the library are in Spanish, and sometimes English. For people who have an orientation toward bilingualism, you cannot fi nd texts in Quechua, but if there were bilingual books, these people would be motivated to read and do their research in the Quechua language. (interview transcript, May 29, 2017)

Although the students want to have texts written in Quechua, they would prefer that content in these Quechua books contain more than mere translations in Spanish of theoretical books. Pucahuayta stated the need to balance the students’ theoretical/linguistic training with information in Quechua, whether students are bilingual or not: Hay que leer y escribir también en nuestro idioma quechua, ya que toda información para formarse como preofesional esta en español y otros idiomas extranjeras; de esta forma darle importancia a este idioma originario y dar a conocer a personas no quechua hablantes. The English translation: We must also read and write in our Quechua language, since all the information we need to be trained in as professionals is in Spanish and other foreign languages; this would be a way to give importance to this autochthonous language and familiarize non-Quechua speakers with it (interview transcript, May 29, 2017).

Students imagine that Quechua books would communicate Quechua knowledge (Figure 6.12). The students also envision bilingual texts that would help those who are in the process of recovering Quechua. Students such as Edgar explain that such texts would be written originally in Quechua and then Original title: Yachayninchista Ñawinchasun Translated title: Let’s Read to Learn

Figure 6.12 Photovoice. Pucahuayta, 2017

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translated into Spanish: ‘Yo me imaginaría que los textos en quechua reproducirían nuestra realidad más que traducciones de textos del castellano al quechua. The English translation: I imagine that texts in Quechua would reproduce our reality better than translations of Spanish texts into Quechua (interview transcript, May 29, 2017). Students believe that printed and audio Quechua books could play an important role in familiarizing students with Andean knowledge. Students see themselves as potential producers of such texts or audiobooks. This is particularly true for anthropology students, such as Cinthia, who are familiar with the experiences of authors in anthropology. As she explained, Hay algunos libros en quechua, por ejemplo, de Valderrama que escribió Gregori Mamani que es un libro en quechua y en castellano. Si creo que debería darse más importancia, pero no creo que se podría traducir libros teóricos en castellano al quechua. Y al tener todos estos libros en castellano es un impedimento para mantener el quechua en la universidad. The English translation: There are some books in Quechua: for example, from Valderrama, written by Gregori Mamani, which is a book in Quechua and in Spanish. I do think this should be given more importance, but I don’t think you could translate theoretical books in Spanish into Quechua. And having all these books in Spanish is an impediment to maintaining Quechua in the university. (group discussion, eighth photovoice session)

Cinthia voices the concerns of all of the participants that, to have a real flourishing, textbooks must be in Quechua by Quechuas. I had the sense that this would help them identify and engage more with the learning process. Few academic works are written in Quechua. For instance, anthropology majors are very familiar with the dissertation written in Quechua in the late 1970s by Ricardo Valderrama Fernandez and Carmen Escalante Gutierrez. Fernandez and Gutierrez submitted their thesis, in its Quechua– Spanish bilingual version, to the University of Cusco as part of their requirements for graduate degrees in anthropology. In subsequent decades, the book was translated into Danish, English, Norwegian and German. These two anthropologists documented the testimonies of a Quechua-speaking couple, Gregorio Condori Mamani and Asunta Quispe Huamán. Later, in 2017, Dr. Carmen Escalante Gutierrez wrote her doctoral thesis in Quechua. These bilingual publications are well known in the Anthropology Department at UNSAAC and in social sciences departments in Perú in general. Students such as Cinthia hearken to these theses in their argument for writing their own bachelor’s theses in Quechua. Although students agreed that written Quechua would take a collective effort with the help of language teachers, there was no agreement on whether to follow the five-vowel system taught at the language center or

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to use the three-vowel system supported mainly by the Ministry of Education in its objective to standardize written Quechua. Few students were even somewhat familiar with the arguments behind these two systems. The only thing the students who supported the three-vowel system noted was that in order to progress with written Quechua, it would be important to use the standardized system. As Edgar said, ‘There’s a lot of research on Quechua writing, so we have to follow the official written Quechua to give it more visibility.’ (interview transcript, May 29, 2017). It seems these students would be flexible concerning the three-vowel versus five-vowel systems as long as all writing in Quechua was standardized. Still, students such as Pucahuayta insist on respecting the diversity of Quechua in either spoken or written forms. Interestingly; even with an emphasis on writing Quechua during this photovoice study, 99% of the students’ written statements were in Spanish, with minimal content written in Quechua. The booklet the students created contains Quechua written using both the five-vowel and three-vowel systems. Some but not all of the photograph titles and brief descriptors in their written communications with me were written in Quechua. In contrast, oral participation showed the presence of Quechua equal to that of Spanish. Nearly all of the students felt comfortable verbally in both languages. Diana, however, did not have enough oral command of Quechua to be able to express herself for more than a couple of sentences. Her minimal use of written Quechua probably stems from not having learned to write in Quechua. In the students’ Quechua communities, communication is primarily oral; written Quechua is minimal. In one strategy to address this deficiency of Quechua in higher level learning, the members of VIHÑ envision creating a center for teaching written forms of Quechua at UNSAAC. To achieve this, they want to invite Quechua teachers so that Quechua speakers who want to learn to write it have direct support, without having to go to the language center. Another concrete strategy proposed by the students is ‘Quechua Week,’ an event that would include a series of cultural activities along with a week dedicated to research on Quechua language and knowledge. Currently, students are aware of Research Week, an activity recently started in 2016. The dean of research sponsors it with funds from mining royalties received by the university. Diana commented: Como hay un presupuesto para investigación seria llamar a cada carrera a que realice una investigación financiada por el vicerrectorado de investigación. Así puedan presentar su investigación en la semana. The English translation: Since there’s a budget for research, it would involve appealing to each department to conduct research funded by the dean of research. That way, they could present their research during this week. (group discussion, eighth photovoice session)

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However, similar to their future Quechua center and unlike Research Week, students propose that Quechua research week involve not only teachers or students as speakers but also knowledgeable people from Quechua communities. Recruiting Quechua speakers as guest lecturers or presenters demonstrates how students refuse to perceive academia as the only valid source of knowledge, an attitude illustrated in their draft proposal (Appendix 4) and another example of their decolonial gesturing. Students also showed some savvy and familiarity with academic publications and event management in the way they envisioned Quechua research week, Pukahuayta stated: Tanto Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan como algunos de nosotros seriamos la comitiva para organizar la semana del quechua. Despues de esta semana de quechua se tendría que hacer un resumen, una revista no solo que se comparta en la universidad sino con otras universidades, internacionalmente para que sepan cómo se está recuperando el quechua en la universidad. Porque si no se está recuperando es debido a que no hay políticas que dictaminen que el quechua se debe usar en la universidad. The English translation: Both the Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer Group and some of us would be on the committee to organize Quechua research week. After this Quechua Week, we would have to do a summary, a publication not just to be shared at the university but with other universities and internationally, so that people can see how Quechua is being recovered at the university. Because if it is not recovering, it is because there are no policies that dictate that Quechua should be used at the university (group discussion, eighth photovoice session).

Sprouting of Quechua means that respect to diversity must be the epicenter to allow the language to flourish within the university community. Respect implies always being respectful of all of the variants that make up the linguistic repertoire of bilingual speakers of Quechua, Spanish, or a combination of both. ‘The rooting out of deficit’ ideologies toward Quechua and Quechua speakers is a dynamic that must be present to prevent the ground from being poisoned. Complementing action, planning is essential to imagine the blossoming of ethnolinguistic awareness within the university community, essential because the social environment there continues to reproduce ideologies that prevent the growth of Quechua– Spanish bilingualism. There are two levels of commitment on the part of students. On a personal level, the students must maintain their bilingual practices and collaborate to achieve ethnolinguistic awareness among the university community. Collectively, primarily through activities of the Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer Group, the students must create alliances with the dean of research and the Social Welfare Office at the university.

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Ultimately, as tangible evidence of equality, equity and respect, students perceive achieving Quechua T’ikaraninpaq (the blooming of Quechua language culture) as closely linked to language equity, a crucial right that is often lessened for Quechua speakers because this population lacks equal access to basic services and their view of the (Andean) world is ignored and delegitimized. Demanding respect for the Quechua language is their primary vehicle for attaining T’ikarinanpaq. Students such as Fructuoso stated this concept emphatically: Noqa niykichis kusisqa orgulloso kaychis runa simi rimasqaykichismanta kawsayninchismanta, culturanchismanta, amataq ima p’inqakuypas kachunchu. Amataq p’inqakusunchu imayna kasqanchismanta. Hinaspapas niqayman hina piwanpas maywanpas, presidente de la republica kamachiqwapas ñawpaqta rimana runasimipi paykuna mana yachaqtinkuña castellano simipiqa, runasimipi rimayqa hoq derecho fundamentalmi. Manan pipas ninmanchu ‘ah, qanqa runasimi rimaqmi kanki lloqsiy lloqsiy. The English translation: I tell them to be proud of the fact that they speak Quechua, to be proud of our experiences, our cultures, to not be ashamed. We are not ashamed of what we are. That is what I would say to anyone, even the president of the republic. Speak in Quechua fi rst; if they cannot, then speak in Spanish. Speaking in Quechua is a fundamental right. No one can tell us: ‘Ah, you’re just a Quechua speaker. Get out.’ (group discussion, fi fth photovoice session).

College students also recognize that self-respect is a good start but is insufficient to accomplish Tikarinanpaq. Leadership in institutions such as UNSAAC must change their colonial behavior. The students emphasize the racialized experience of many Quechua peoples because they argue that legal, educational and health care systems limit the exercise of intercultural citizenship for those who do not speak Spanish, and the university also enables this unequal treatment by not training professionals capable of serving everyone. In their fondest wishes, students hope that the university community will gradually open up to intercultural dialogue, become not only tolerant of but respectful to the Quechua episteme. Not just hopeful, the students insist on concrete measures to create greater opportunities to achieve this Quechua blooming for everyone within the community university – classes taught in Quechua by Quechua speakers, physical spaces dedicated to Quechua, structural recognition (statuary) of the importance of Quechua to Perú, and funding for Quechua-specific cultural events such as Research Quechua Week. Immersion in Quechua – the people, their language, their culture – at the university would shut off the tap that feeds exclusionary systems. This respect must also extend to legislative and legal venues where Quechuas are treated as inferior.

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Photovoice participants are acutely aware of the hegemonic forces rooted in colonial practices that impede the full exercise of citizenship by Quechua speakers. Quechua citizens offer diverse and critical ways of knowing, being and communicating. To magnify and exemplify this potential benefit for all Peruvian society, the photovoice participants believe that exercising citizenship through the Quechua language is a central issue in their criticism of institutionalized racism, a discriminatory action that precludes access to valuable knowledge from its marginalized communities. Students such as Fructuoso fail to fi nd compatibility between the ‘dead letter’ of the constitution and the reality of rights. He believes in passiveactive resistance to this bigotry and advises, ‘Runasiminchista parlasun maypiña, piwanya tariricuspapas’, which means ‘Let’s speak Quechua wherever we are, with whomever we meet.’ If linguistic rights are limited for Indigenous citizens and their exercise of citizenship remains nearly non-existent, the outlook for T’ikarinanpaq is dismal.

7 Andean Pedagogies and Participatory Cultural Humility as Decolonial Praxis

In the subsequent chapter, I outline the pedagogical contributions from the Andean researchers’ (photovoice participants and community advisory board members) and Quechua peoples’ participation that emerged when collectively applying participatory cultural humility (PCH) during the photovoice study. Initially, I aimed to investigate the strategies these bilingual students (photovoice participants and community advisory board members) utilized to shape the photovoice methodology to attain the desired viewpoint: I practiced cultural humility. I did not assume cultural characteristics about them: I considered them the experts. I did not solely exercise my cultural capacity, informed by 25 years of my upbringing in Cusco, to understand Andean communities with different values, beliefs and behaviors. Rather, I promoted participants’ full expression, acknowledging that we are crossed by colonialities, to understand better their perspectives rather than adhere to a preplanned methodology. For example, my initial idea of having sessions at historic pre-Hispanic sites and trails that would better activate group discussions was very well received by Wences and Yexy at fi rst, but then that changed. After unraveling the current significance of these pre-Hispanic settings from a decolonial point of view, I realized, thanks to Wences, that connecting with highland communities was more critical to engaging in critical discussions rather than just the archeological iconic sites. I remained sensitive to the potential for their expertise, being guided by colonial or decolonial ideologies due to internal colonialism. In addition, I monitored the potential tricks of my epistemological privilege by practicing constant reflexivity to observe how the collective of researchers affects the research process within a decolonial framework. Similar to Sumida and Valdiviezo (2014), a goal of my reflexivity process was to examine the meanings of how teaching and learning take place organically within 123

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Indigenous spaces. In this study, the Indigenous spaces were beyond the rural and urban dichotomy (Simbaña Pillajo, 2020). Cognizant of the above concerns based on personal histories of the participants and myself, I formulated the following question: How did the participation of the Andean community members (photovoice participants, Yexy, Wences and other Quechua peoples) shape the implementation of this photovoice study? One primary answer to that question, promoting the use of the local knowledge of bilingual students as well as Quechua peoples, determined the course of the research process and made it more significant for the participants. Emphasis on valorization surfaced immediately and explicitly. Throughout the process, the original methodological aim expanded due to the collective orientation of the bilingual university students who listened to and responded to other voices from the community – Quechua women weavers, Quechua campesinos and urban Andean activists. Adhering to the study’s decolonial framework, immediate analyses of responses stimulated me to identify the various Andean peoples’ ways of knowing, an analysis that reconfigured the photovoice process. Subsequently, I sought to capture an appreciation for the different representations of Andean pedagogies – Quechua and Quechua–Spanish conceptions, saberes-haceres, practices and imaginaries – that enriched and reconfigured our photovoice process during the implementation of this study. Andean experiential knowledge particularly informed the building of collective trust and sustainability as follows: •

Engaging in Quechua practices for collective trust muyu muyurispa – circular scenarios in motion; tinkuy – an exchange of information, plans, or experiences, which could be translated as an ‘experiential encounter’; kuka akulliy – the act of chewing Coca leaves and sucking their juices. Enacting Andean agency for sustainability ayni – a type of labor exchange that involves collective physical effort to benefit both parties; student collective activism – student participation in social and political activities at the university.

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•

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Engaging in Quechua Practices for Collective Trust

Andean participants reproduced and reinterpreted key practices and concepts linked to Quechua core relational ontologies and epistemologies that continue to imbue their subjectivities. Understanding photovoice as a participatory study, students engaged in collective orientations (muyu muyurispa, tinkuy and kuka akulliy) linked to their Quechua legacies. This section describes how the Quechua practices indigenized the photovoice process by aligning the mutual collective trust necessary to proceed in a collective project.

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Muyu muyurispa – circular scenarios in motion

These circular scenarios in motion are irregular in form: they played out during three photovoice sessions. The initial muyu muyurispa took place during the second photovoice session (in the Tambomachay area), the middle one took place during the fi fth photovoice session (Huayllapata), and the third muyu muyurispa took place during the photovoice exposition on the college campus. Andean peoples commonly associate such circular scenarios in motion with the universe because in Quechua, teqsimuyu, ‘the universe,’ translates literally as the ‘circular foundation.’ Collective gatherings of Quechua peoples occur in circles so they can feel and identify the others around them. I interpreted the muyu muyurispa as a microhuman reproduction the ‘circular foundation,’ unconsciously reproducing the centrality of the collective motion, fusing, not isolating, individuality. During this study, photovoice participants would call out spontaneously in Quechua to make a muyu muyurispa. I would then join them. Muyu muyurispa are common collective activities in the Andean world. I emphasize this idea from an Andean worldview to acquaint the reader more closely with the southern Andean setting where Quechua resounds and where we find practices of ‘others’ that extend beyond everyday urban life in Latin America. I interpreted this cultural expression as a manifestation that signals the creation of a collective reality, which some academics refer to as communality1 (Diaz, 1992). In general, circular spaces were present in two forms among the actors involved in the photovoice study: one, a circular configuration of conversations where everyone could see each other face-to-face and direct their attention to all, not just one person; and a second form, collective dance movements called muyu muyurispa. The facilitators – Yexy, Wences and I – deliberately promoted the first form, circular configuration of conversations. The photovoice participants spontaneously self-organized two ‘circular scenarios in motion’ and the sikuri music group, Apu Wayra, accompanied participants as they enacted the fi nal muyu muyurispa of collective dance movements (Figure 7.1). These three muyu muyurispa occurred in open spaces, which I interpret as acts that promote strengthening of the collectivity and affirming their relation not only to the group but to teqsimuyu, the universe. Visualization of the circular scenarios in motion is readily apparent, as seen in Figure 7.2, a photograph taken at one of the initial photovoice sessions held on the outskirts of Cusco. After a morning photovoice hiking session, the closing discussions in the afternoon culminated as students started a muyu muyurispa, joining hands and moving in a circle. At the beginning, someone would put on radio music in the background; later, the participants gustily sang a cappella, mixing Quechua and Spanish. The muyu muyurispa ended spontaneously with a poetic declaration in Quechua by one of the photovoice

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Second photovoice exposion, at the university main campus. This muyu muyurispa was created by the Apu Wayra music group.

Sessions focus on crical discussion about bilingual pracces on campus (prior to picture-taking). 2nd Muyu Muyurispa

1st Muyu Muyurispa

Session in the field aer sharing their findings with Huayllapata Women. Some began taking pictures for their photovoices.

3rd Muyu Muyurispa

Figure 7.1 Sequence of Muyu Muyurispa during the photovoice process

participants, Ronald: ‘Kunantaq kaypi rikhuni qankunawan chay rumikunallan qhawarimuwan, kay allpaq sonqonpi pachamama uyarimashanchis rimasqanchispa, parlarisqanchista.’ The English translation: Now here, these stones see us, we see you with us, in the heart of the earth, mother earth listens to us and speaks to us, and we speak to her (group discussion, second photovoice session).

Figure 7.2 Muyu muyurispa in the Tambomachay area. Y. Kenfield, 2017

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During our reflections with Yexy and Wences after the second photovoice session, we found ourselves happy for having the unexpected muyu muyurispa. In our written notes about this photovoice session, Wences mentioned: Chaypi sonqollaykupi llapallayku hawarinakuspa mas juñusqa rikukuyku. Compañeroykuna siminpi takiytaqallarispan kusisqallaña tusuyunku, noqapas kusisqallañatusupaykuni, mana qonqanama chay punchayqa. Cuando estábamos en ronda nos sentimos alegres porque cantábamos en el mismo idioma y nos sentíamos unidos. Siento que al cantar en quechua incluímos nuestra cultura. Podriamos decir que el muyu muyurispa se metió al mundo de la investigación, por que no sólo discutimos sobre el quechua, sino el mundo Andino aporta y nos mueve. Compañeroykuna ‘runasimiwanqa estudiaytapas atillawaqmi,’ nisparaq niyuyku. The English translation: There in our hearts we all contemplated each other, we perceived ourselves more united. when my peers began to sing in the Quechua language, they also danced happily, even I danced happily, I won’t forget this day ever. When we were in the round, we felt happy because we sang in the same language, and we felt united. I feel that by singing in Quechua, we include our culture. We could say that the muyu muyurispa entered the world of research, because we not only discussed Quechua, but the Andean world contributes and moves us. My peers ‘we can study with Quechua [language] as well,’ even said. (field note, February 5, 2017)

I interpreted this initial muyu muyurispa as enacting the collective commitment initiated in the photovoice session. Photovoice participants knew this study would take several sessions, and their willingness to participate was going to depend on how they identified as members of a group. They had signed consent forms weeks earlier, but in this spontaneous circular joining together, this muyu muyurispa, they declared openly that each of them absolutely consented to and committed to the photovoice process. Quechua is a language for not only for communicating verbally but also through eye contact and body movements, a way of being that vibrates with fluid identities, enabling bilingual people to navigate between muyus and among the coordinates of altitude and latitude in the southern Andes. The students would make another muyu mururispa, ‘circle in motion’ (Figure 7.3), during a photovoice session held in the Quechua community of Huayllapa. This collective act, which occurred during the fi rst half of the meeting, encouraged the village women to feel more confident with the students. The women responded by loaning students their traditional articles of clothing: polleras and monteras. 2 After donning the borrowed clothing, the students continued their muyu muyurispa wearing the clothes of the women of Huayllapata (Figure 7.4).

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Figure 7.3 Muyu muyurispa of students with the village women’s children. Y. Kenfield, 2017

Tinkuy – experiential exchange encounter

In Quechua communities, tinkuy is a type of meaningful encounter in which people often exchange products and, most importantly, information. One important aspect of the tinkuy is that people ask critical, penetrating, deep questions to gain the most information possible. During a tinkuy, conversations often turn into opinionated confrontations, akin to a dialogue using a dialectical method. Tensions and contradictions during the makeup of the conversations are important in tinkuy.

Figure 7.4 Students doing a muyu muyurispa and wearing traditional women’s polleras and monteras. W. Huayllani Mercado, 2017

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The continual migration and mobilization of urban or rural Quechua people promote the reproduction of tinkuy in the Andean world. Photovoice participants said that, for young migrants to the cities, tinkuy represents more than a visit to their community; it creates a space to validate the use of their new experiences for individual and communal growth. For them, tinkuy are experiential encounters that allow social, economic and spiritual networking. In this study, few tinkuy just happened, unplanned, not fully envisioned prior to the realization that we were actually participating in them. We, facilitators and photovoice participants, did not initially designate these encounters as tinkuy; we called them encuentros in Spanish. After revisiting my field notes and reflections, I now interpret these encuentros as actual tinkuy. I realized that involving Quechua peoples outside of the university context of this photovoice study also created a space for dialogue in Quechua, a tinkuy, between the photovoice participants, facilitators and high mountain peoples. This photovoice study included two additional tinkuy, significant experiential encounters for all involved. One tinkuy occurred with the women from the weavers’ association of Huayllapata, a Quechua community in Paucartambo. The second tinkuy occurred between Quechua members and guests of the Casa Campesina in the city of Cusco. Following the students’ logic that Quechua serves to create ties and mobilize people, the facilitators (Yexy, Wences and I) reflected on the need to leave the city and venture into the mountains during some photovoice sessions. Because we discussed involving high mountain peoples, we considered visiting a Quechua community. Wences suggested having conversations with Huayllapata women, weavers in their community, an endeavor that would involve a two-hour trip from Cusco city. Wences coordinated our visit with them through a non-governmental association called Amhauta. We anticipated an informative visit to the Huayllapata community, eating with and learning from the weaver women: We did not anticipate a tinkuy. We simply intended to share with the Huayllapata community a meaningful space for testimonial exchange. As the conversation became a tinkuy, however, the photovoice participants sought nourishment from the women’s comments regarding reflections by the photovoice participants about their limitations and confrontations at the university because of their Quechua–Spanish bilingualism. At the end of a meal, cooked by everyone, and after the photovoice participants shared their testimony about their limitations and plans to maintain Quechua–Spanish bilingualism, one young weaver, a bilingual teacher from the community school, spoke to the group (Figure 7.5). She first congratulated the students for making this visit and for continuing to use Quechua. However, after these congratulations, she shared testimony about experiences with professionals from her community who had gone to the university and then appeared to forget their origins. She said,

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Figure 7.5 A weaver takes part in a tinkuy and calls for reflection. Y. Kenfield, 2017

Universidadmanta yachaqkuna hamunqa niqtinku kusirikuni, Qankuna runa simipi rimayta qallariqtiykichis noqaykuwan muspharikuni, sorprendikuni. Mayninpiqa Qosqo llaqtaman riqkuna kanku universitariokuna chaymanta paykuna profesional kaspanku; corbatawan churakunku manaña rimayusunkichu qosqo llaqtapi tupaqtiyku. Ternowan churankunku manaña riqsisunkichuña. The English translation: When I was told that university students were going to come, I was happy. When you all began to speak to us in Quechua, I was surprised. Sometimes those who go down to Cusco city and are university students become professional. [They] put on their ties and no longer want to speak to us when we see each other in Cusco city. When they put on their suit, they do not know you anymore. (group discussion, fi fth photovoice session)

Between the teasing and anecdotes, this interjection from the young woman within the circle was an appeal for the students to see themselves as future professionals who will be going into other spaces relegated mostly to Spanish speakers. In response to this poignant commentary, photovoice participants responded with verbal comments and even one with tears. In the words of Carmen, who is striving to learn her Quechua language: Kusisqapuni kashani agradesinuyki qamkunata hayqaqpis qonqasaqchu kawsaypuni lo que estoy viviendo ahora sé que no lo voy a poder olvidar por a tenerlo toda mi vida. Gracias por llamar la atención, gracias por su cariño, y muchas gracias señito. Me siento muy comprometida con Uds. cuando ya sea profesional siempre no les voy a olvidar, voy a venir acá. Nishu noqa kani sentimental no sé. Pero pienso si tu tienes una identidad clara es mejor. Identificarnos con nuestro mismo pueblo es importante. Mi mamá es profesora enseña inicial en Marcapata, y cuando voy allá me

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siento feliz. Con los niños con amor se debe trabajar, igual con el quechua. Porque de eso se trata, sentir amor primero por lo tuyo. Se trata del amor a uno mismo y al prójimo. Porque de que te serviría tener la profesión sino tienes a tu pueblo. Desde pequeños sembrar el autoestima es importante. Yo pienso que no lo debemos ver desde el lado intelectual, no veamos solo quien debe hacer esto o pedir esto. Creo que cada uno con las pequeñas acciones, con el sentimiento podemos retribuirnos. The English translation: I am very happy. I thank you. I will not forget in my life what I am living now. I know that I will not be able to forget it. I will keep it all my life. Thank you for scolding, thanks for your love, and thank you very much, miss. I feel very committed to you. When I will become a professional, I will never forget you all, I will come here. I might be very sentimental. But I think if you have a clear identity, it is better. Identifying with our own people is important. My mother is also a teacher who teaches kindergarten in Marcapata, and when I go there, I feel happy in her classroom. You must work with children with love, the same with Quechua. Because that’s what it’s all about, loving what is yours fi rst. It’s about loving yourself and your neighbor. What would your profession be worth if you didn’t have your people? From an early age, it is important to seed self-esteem. I think we should not see it from the intellectual side; let’s not just see who should do this or ask for this. I believe that each one with small actions, with feelings we can reward ourselves (group discussion, fi fth photovoice session).

Like Carmen, other students’ responses were mainly focused on battling internal colonialism or identity shift. In this regard, Gabriel said: Qué bien ñañay, lo que has dicho. Aunque no hablo puramente, hablo combinado con castellano, me siento orgulloso de hablarlo en la ciudad si me veo con mi mamá o mi papá. Como no les voy a hablar en quechua. The English translation: Very well, sister, what you have said. Although I do not speak [Quchua] purely, I speak in combination [Quechua– Spanish]. I feel proud speaking it in the city if I meet with my mother or father, how I could not speak to them in Quechua (group discussion, fi fth photovoice session).

This warning, this authoritative criticism from the community voiced by this Quechua woman (Figure 7.5), became a critical moment defining this meeting as a something deeper than an encounter. By reflecting on her intervention, I understood that this was a real tinkuy between the Huayllapata women and us (the photovoice participants and facilitators). A second tinkuy took place in the city of Cusco, at Casa Campesina, a project sponsored by the Bartolomé de las Casas Center for Andean and Amazonian Studies. Prior to the tinkuy, the photovoice participants visited the Casa Campesina project and its facilities, including their dining hall for tourists. I subsequently rented this hall for a photovoice session in which the students collectively selected the photographs they would use in their upcoming photo expositions.

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Figure 7.6 Photo exposition at Casa Campesina. Y. Huillca, 2017

When the university students fi rst learned about the Casa Campesina project, they became enthusiastic and decided to make a presentation about their photovoice results as a work-in-progress at Casa Campesina. Specifically, students wanted this presentation to take place during the nighttime tinkuy called Campesino Tuesdays. Each week during Campesino Tuesdays, people (mostly from Quechua communities in the highlands) come to stay at Casa Campesina and hold a tinkuy in Quechua. After enjoying their first tinkuy at Casa Campesina (Figure 7.6), the students decided to create the fi rst photo exposition and present it at one of the Campesino Tuesdays. This decision by the students showed yet again that they were fully engaged, committed to making this project their own. I, of course, acquiesced to their wishes. The events at Casa Campesino revealed again that this photovoice study was a malleable process, introducing new techniques and applications for both participants and I as they encountered novel experiences. Kuka akulliy – chewing coca leaves

The Quechua experiential knowledge of kuka akulliy, also known as kuka chaqchay, kuka pijchay or kuka hallpay, is the act of chewing and sucking on coca leaves – keeping them in one’s mouth while extracting their juice but not swallowing them. Andean peoples have likely practiced kuka akulliy for more than 8000 years (Gade, D.W. 1999). Andeans practice kuka akulliy only with leaves of the coca plant. Coca is endemic to the Andean valleys; Quechua people consider it sacred and use it medicinally in holistic healing. When available, this practice is accompanied by chewing a tiny piece of llipta or llipt’a, which is a round, compact mass

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formed by a mixture of ash of kiwicha or quinua, which powers the extraction of coca alkaloids. Llipta is not as easy to fi nd in the markets in Cusco as coca leaves are, probably because it is traditionally produced, not mass produced, and people do not fi nd it as tasty as coca leaves. During the tinkuy at Casa Campesina, the Quechua rural villagers asked in the Quechua language to start kuka akulliy prior to the beginning of the session (Figure 7.7). The coordinator of Campesino Tuesday, Claudia Cuba Huamani, quickly proceeded to pass the coca leaves around, prior to when the community advisory board, photovoice participants and I began describing our progress with the photovoice study. Everyone who was present engaged in kuka akulliy and followed a specific protocol during this Campesino Tuesday: one person invites others to take coca leaves by passing them in a circular, clockwise motion, sharing the leaves from a bag or fabric pouch and letting people take a handful of leaves to chew. The protocol became more formal ceremonially and spiritually when the names of the spirits of the surrounding mountains as gods, apus, are pronounced in Quechua. Naming the mountains shows respect for the surrounding territory as communal legacy, a critical part of the relational ontology of Andean peoples. Although some of us, particularly photovoice participants and I, did not practice the ceremonial degree of naming some of the mountains around us, many individually made blowing gestures toward the four cardinal directions, keeping the mountains in mind. Some Quechua campesinos named spirits of the mountains: Sacsayhuaman and Pachatusan (Figure 7.8). During that particular session in Martes Campesino, a group of about 30 people practiced kuka akulliy, including some who knew how to make ‘the ball’ properly. Those who practice kuka akulliy more often can make a ball that creates a bulge in their cheek, as you can see in Figure 7.9.

Figure 7.7 People selecting coca leaves for kuka akulliy. Y. Huillca, 2017

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Figure 7.8 Google Maps directions for hiking from Saqsaywaman, Cusco, to Pachatusan, Cusco (Google, n.d.)

Figure 7.9 Note ‘the ball’ from the kuka akulliy of the young man in the back. Y. Kenfield, 2017

The right cheek of the young man at the top of this photo is bulging with an accumulation of coca leaves he is chewing, and not swallowing, showing that he is an experienced practitioner of kuka akulliy. When reflecting about this practice with relatives, Claudia Cuba Huamani, Yexy and Wences, I interpreted that this sharing of coca leaves for chewing and sucking in a group, signifies a commitment to start or continue a task, a collective task in which one asks for strength from the coca leaves to not stop during the practice. The kuka akulliy practiced during Campesino Tuesday implied a petition to mama coca so that those present would be aware, alert and correctly understand what the students wanted to communicate regarding progress on the photovoice study.

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In addition, this Andean pedagogy – kuka akulliy – implied acknowledging the presence of Quechua villagers as not merely passive guests but rather as invited participants to dialogue. Kuka akulliy reminded college students of the knowledges that Quechua villagers bring to the shared space. These perceptions were informed by reflections that Yexy and Wences shared with me after the photovoice expositions, in a field note of Wences: Para mí fue algo nuevo, no había visto en una ponencia. Me di cuenta que todos los universitarios se sorprendieron y lo tomaron a bien, y contribuyo a que por el chaqchado ellos se soltaron más y pudieran expresarse de mejor manera. Y también llactamasiykunapas allintanjahuanku hinaspapas haswan anchatan paykunapas rimariyta qallarinku, asirikuspa, sumaqta yaqallapallanku rimarinku. The English translation: For me, it [chewing Coca leaves] was something new. I had not seen it in a presentation. I realized that all the university students were surprised and took it well, and it [chaqchay] contributed to them becoming more relaxed and able to express themselves in a better way. Also, my countrymen [villagers] saw it [university students chewing coca leaves] in a good way. Moreover, they [villagers and college students] started talking, smiling, most of them began dialoguing very nicely. (field note, Wences, Aug. 6, 2017)

Particularly, Wences and Yexy reflected in the importance of the role of kuka chaqchay to draw on Andean ontologies and cultural identities. This practice brings familiarity as a cultural practice that has traveled between generations and would contribute to academic spaces by setting the connection to mama kuka and the Andean peoples. This practice creates a space for solidarity and Quechua language revitalization, he noted: Chay ruayqa (chacchado de la coca) icha imaymanapashaykunanmi chay mundo académico nesqaman. Imanaqtincha cocata ricuruspa curkunkutapas kacharinku, simimpaskacharirpariku y rimayta kallariyunku, yasinkupipaskankuman jinan, wayqe panankuyampas kashankumanjinan rimayta qallariyunku. The English translation: This practice (coca chewing) must somehow enter what we call the academic world so that the dialogues in the Quechua language are included. Because those who are there seeing the coca, open their mouths, let go and start speaking, as if they were at home, between their brothers and sisters, they start talking. (field note, Wences, Aug. 6, 2017)

Yexy also shared with me her insight of what she perceived the kuka hallpay practice meant. Similar to Wences, she associated this shared cultural practice with enacting Quechua identity reaffirmation in an urban space: Cuando por primera vez entre a Martes Campesino me imaginé que asistirían nuestros hermanos del campo, pero manan amutaranichu rimakushanankama Coca hallpakunanta, desde entonces me sentí

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familiarizada con este espacio puesto que desde mi niñez e infancia cuando vivía en cada vacaciones con mis abuelos ‘hatuntaytaykunawan’ solíamos masticar la coca sentados en círculos en cada descanso ‘samay’ que se realizaba al trabajar la chacra. Como también siempre veía y escuchaba esta frase ‘ñañay Cocata hallpakusun tiyakuy’ al encontrase con sus conocidos, amigos, vecinos, comadres en el camino, entonces creo desde que conocí este espacio me sentí como en familia y empecé a ir frecuentemente a Martes Campesino aparte que los conversaciones eran en quechua y a veces se encontraba la llipt’a elemento que acompaña durante la masticación de la coca. The English translation: When I fi rst entered Martes Campesino [auditorium], I imagined that our [sisters and brothers] from the field would attend, but I did not imagine that during the symposium the coca chewing will happen. Since then, I felt familiar with this space because during my childhood when on every vacation I would stay with my grandparents ‘hatuntaytaykunawan’ we used to chew coca sitting in circles at each ‘samay’ break that was done when working the farm, as I also always saw and heard this phrase ‘ñañay Cocata hallpakusun tiyakuy,’ which translates to, ‘Sister, sit down, let’s chew our coca’ upon meeting her acquaintances, friends, neighbors, comrades on the way. That is why I think since I got to know this space I felt like family, and I started going frequently to Martes Campesino. Besides, the conversations there were in Quechua and sometimes the llipt’a element that accompanies the chewing of coca was available. (field note, Yexy, Aug. 10, 2017)

Kuka akulliy is a particular powerful Andean pedagogy that encourages your body, spirit and mind in community dialogues. It immerses speakers in a collective Indigenous ontological reaffirmation. Enacting Andean Agency for Sustainability

This participatory methodology of photovoice sought to empower community members, not as ‘subjects’ but rather as co-researchers key to tackling challenges in sustainability. Collective activism by the student advisory board and photovoice participants accomplished this approach, a mirror of the Andean form of collaborative agency called ayni. Coupling ‘reciprocal and collective work’ (ayni) and ‘student collective activism ‘maximized the efforts toward sustainability, empowered by Andean ways of collaboration. Ayni – reciprocal and collective work

Ayni signifies a commitment to cooperate on a task that will primarily benefit one of the parties in the short run but will benefit the other party later by providing the same level of cooperation on a similar task or duty. Quechua communities perform ayni mostly to support agricultural or construction tasks. Ayni requires a verbal commitment that follows

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specific protocols, and might involve providing some type of meal while the work is being performed. A good example of ayni developed between the students and community members who were working to recover their Quechua skills begun at Casa Campesina during the fi rst photo exposition held during the Martes Campesino forum. It is common to see few university students or professionals attending these forums because they know they can practice their Quechua skills in an urban setting. Attendees included members of a sikuri group called Apu Wayra, a name that relatively translates to ‘sacred wind.’ The university students learned about this presentation because they saw the flyer in the Facebook account of Casa Campesina. Members of Apu Wayra who were present expressed their desire to get involved with the photovoice study. As students presented their photovoice exhibits, members of Apu Wayra engaged with them in critical dialogues, tinkuy, to both encourage the students and learn from them. Consequently, Apu Wayra proposed to perform ayni with the photovoice students. Apu Wayra agreed to create the musical background during the photovoice exhibit at the university campus. As Yexy noted in her field note: Durante la investigación se utilizaron algunos elementos andinos ‘sara hank’a, watia, etc, intercambios de vivencia durante las conversaciones. Así también se realizaron practicas andinas entre ellas esta el ayni que se hizo con Apu Wayra quienes querían aprender, mejorar el quechua ‘kausayniykuta yachayta munaranku hinallataq Runasimita / Qheswasimita yachayta munaranku ‘ y nosotros escuchar su música andina. Lo interesante fue que en esta sociedad donde la mayoría vende y compra o paga por un servicio, peor aun el precio es elevado si se trata de algo andino. Ellos accedieron hacer ayni solo por saber mas de nosotros, por querer intercambiar nuestros conocimiento. Esto me hace sentir y pensar de todo todavía existen personas y espacios dentro de la ciudad que en realidad practican lo nuestro que seria el quechua como idioma y cultura. sus vidas querian aprender asi el Qheswa o Runasimi querian aprender. The English translation: During the investigation, some Andean elements ‘sara hank’a, watia, etc., exchanges of experiences during the conversations were used. Thus, Andean practices were also carried out, among them is the ayni that was done with Apu Wayra who wanted to learn, improve the Quechua ‘their lives they wanted to learn; therefore, the Qheswa or Runasimi they wanted to learn,’ and we [wanted to] listen to their Andean music. The interesting thing was that in this society where the majority sell and buy or pay for a service, even worse the price is high if it is something Andean. They [Apu Wayra musicians] agreed to do ayni just to know more about us, and want to exchange our knowledge. This makes me feel and think about that there are still people and spaces within the city that actually practice what is ours, which would be Quechua as a language and culture. (field note, Yexy, Aug. 10, 2017)

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Figure 7.10 Apu Wayra on the university campus during the photo exposition. Y. Kenfield, 2017

We were delighted to hear Apu Wayra’s proposal of ayni. Their offer showed that the group trusted us and that they were enthusiastic about our project because it coalesced with their interest in ethnolinguistic awareness in Cusco. The exchange that they expected in return from the bilingual students was support in helping them improve their Quechua language. Apu Wayra saw the photovoice students as a source of help to continue their own recovery of Quechua. Subsequently, members of Apu Wayra and the Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer group (VIHÑ) connected via Facebook to further support the recovery of Quechua. Also, the university students began to attend Apu Wayra’s musical performances on Sundays in Cusco’s Tupac Amaru Square. Culminating this spontaneous mutual interest, a muyu muyurispa occurred at our fi nal photo exposition on campus: The students performed a circular movement set to music by Apu Wayra (Figure 7.10). Although Sikuri groups similar to Apu Wayra are associated mainly with Aymara peoples, not Quechua, more and more Sikuri groups include the Quechua language and not only Aymara or Spanish and their variations. In these Sikuri groups, Andean instruments such as a drum called tinya and wind instruments called sikus are critical because their performances do not include individual, full-length songs, only brief collective singing intermissions with extended instrumental melodies. Student collective activism

Student activism, a form of student saber-hacer, is understood as the manifestation of students’ agency in exercising their rights in a collective manner. Students who participated in the photovoice study are active members of the federated centers of their university majors, as well as

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Figure 7.11 Photograph at the studio of a local TV station in Cusco. Y. Kenfield, 2017

being members of Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer Group and various study groups. They demonstrated their commitment to student activism by their knowledge of resources and rights available to them as university students. They also initiated activities aimed at recruiting student fellowship and raising awareness of bilingual issues. For example, photovoice participants set up an interview at the local TV station (Figure 7.11) to present their most important discussions about bilingualism at the university and to invite members of the public to attend their photovoice exposition on the university campus. Their activism contributed to the development of this photovoice study: They easily accessed university classrooms for photovoice sessions at night, they secured the use of the Federated Center of Anthropology and its sound equipment and they arranged permits to hold the photo exposition. Using their collective agency, they guided us efficiently through several bureaucratic procedures. They organized the photo exposition on the university campus. They requested sound equipment and panels for visual displays, obtained authorization to use Tricentennial Park on campus to mount the photovoice exposition (Figure 7.12), and wrangled permits to display the advertising poster for the photo exposition on the university campus. The poster was placed by UNSAAC’s main entrance at night (Figure 7.13), a week prior to the photovoice exposition. The photovoice exposition on the university campus was my last direct involvement in this study but was not the last event for the other participants. The university students, as members of VIHÑ, reproduced the exhibit in August 2017 at the national university in Huancayo as part of

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Figure 7.12 Photovoice exposition in UNSAAC. Y. Huillca Quishua, 2017

their participation in an intercultural student forum. Following that experience, members of VIHÑ felt the need to include conversations about local and national intercultural policies on their agenda and scheduled additional Quechua meetings. In the spring of 2018, the photovoice participants sent me a poster (Figure 7.14) about a forum organized by VIHÑ members, an event that took place in January 2018 at the university. The Quechua–Spanish saberes-haceres of the participants continues to be mobilized into other geopolitical spaces. Photovoice participants engage college administrators, requesting that more Quechua-centric practices be included in the university culture.

Figure 7.13 Wences poses with the poster for the photo exposition. G. Huayhua Quispe, 2017

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Figure 7.14 Informative poster about the event organized by VIHÑ. N. Gomez Gomez, 2018

The photovoice participants’ demands to increase collaborative dynamics made me concerned about the role of my positionality as well as the concrete benefits that the community could gain from the research process. I sought to improve the often vertical and colonizing relationship between the academy and the community. To address the issue of inequalities in this community-based participatory research (CBPR) study, I believe we moved ‘from cultural humility to PCH as decolonial praxis.’ I argue that this decolonial praxis contributes to ‘dismantling epistemological and ontological injustice’ in Andean Studies. This self-critical and reflexive practice by the researcher has the core goal of not subconsciously reproducing the existing colonial forces. From Cultural Humility to Participatory Cultural Humility as Decolonial Praxis

CBPR investigators aim to practice cultural humility, a contrasting stance to those researchers who assume a position of cultural superiority to their subjects in communities. Cultural humility guides a researcher’s attitudes toward and interactions with research participants and other community research partners by valuing, respecting and focusing on all contributions. Cultural humility melds intermental and intramental identity attitudes of a researcher. Practicing cultural humility is critical for CBPR

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scholars as they interact with community members who often do not share a similar sociocultural background. CBPR rejects the concept and practice of cultural competency, because a person cannot really achieve or completely appropriate the culture of the other. Rather, Tervalon and Murray-García in their research recommended a process that requires humility and commitment to continual self-reflection and self-critique. To practice cultural humility, one must identify and evaluate one’s own patterns of unintentional and intentional racism and classism. Further, a professional or researcher must ‘develop mutually beneficial and non-paternalistic partnerships with communities’ (Tervalon & MurrayGarcía, 1998: 123). As adopted from intercultural communication, the concept of cultural competence has been important when conducting research in collaboration with community members. However, according to CBPR theorists, these concepts fail to dismantle the power relations between the professionals and the community members they serve. Cultural competence in health care describes the ability of systems to provide care to patients with diverse values, beliefs, and behaviors, tailoring delivery to meet patients’ social, cultural and linguistic needs (Betancourt et al., 2002). However, its non-critical look at diversity is problematic, because a professional could oversimplify a culture, which could lead to stereotyping. On the other hand, cultural humility seeks to elicit patients’ understanding of the community problems and their approach to solutions. Another practice of cultural humility is self-reflexive positionality. Positionality relates to the dimensions of power and privilege in a researcher’s identities. That is, a researcher engaged in CBPR must reflect on the impact of his/her positionality on the research processes and outcomes: ‘CBPR practitioners have recognized the potential for reproduction of gender, racial/ethnic and socio-economic inequalities and power differentials within the research process. Academic researchers represent centers of power, privilege and status within their formal institutions as well as within the production of scientific knowledge itself’ (Muhammad et al., 2015: 2). I initiated cultural humility at the beginning of this research, because I was interacting with members of the Andean community with whom I shared a similar sociocultural background (K-16 education, ethnicity, nationality, religion). As an alumna of the same university where the participants study, I held the status of insider to a certain extent; yet my experiences during 12 years in the United States positioned me as an outsider. Learning from my first year of collaboration with Yexy and Wences (members of the community advisory board), I surmised that a different approach to research was required: A decolonial attitude was needed. I considered that Quechua ontologies and epistemologies influenced our thinking because our topic connected directly to Quechua language and culture. I am adding a decolonial turn to cultural humility due to the

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situated coloniality and decoloniality in the Andean macro culture reality. While cultural humility acknowledges that community members are experts, PCH highlights the collective forces as decolonial praxis within that expertise. The CBPR approach required me to practice cultural humility to nurture greater participation by community-based participants – the bilingual Quechua–Spanish university students. However, the sociohistorical configuration of this particular region required me to strive for PCH as decolonial praxis. Practices informed by decolonial thinking expanded this research and allowed Andean participants to create and reshape the space for dialogue that dives deeper into communities’ own pedagogies. I argue that decolonial thought urges that CBPR researchers acknowledge the diverse intergenerational colonial experiences that shape the cultural practices of all peoples involved in a CBPR study. The stronger extension of cultural humility is PCH, which expands the concept of cultural humility and evokes an active rejection of colonial stratification based on the intersection of race, class, and gender. I conceptualize PCH as a collective practice that engages all community partners and academic partners, thus disrupting the long-lasting forces of coloniality implanted in cultural practices. This humility requires all people involved in a participatory study to embrace cultural and social practices that reshape the format of data collection, data sharing, and any researchrelated activities – all such malleable morphing designed to prevent mechanistic reproduction of Eurocentric practices. This does not necessarily mean the discarding of all Western practices: However, it does emphasize a collective, deliberate effort to enact important practices from the Global South that might have been obscured under internal colonialism. Often during this CBPR, the photovoice participants and members of the community advisory board reconfigured the format of photovoice sessions, and, as an outcome of the collective PCH, motivated us to practice selected Quechua experiential knowledge initiated by Quechua community members we met during the photovoice process. The photovoice format thus became spontaneously modified by all involved. My and all participants’ systemic application of PCH created an interactive environment of collaboration that ensured diversified effort and input. The use of PCH illuminated discussions about non-Eurocentric epistemologies and pedagogies. During 2017, while working with Yexy and Wences, I realized that the practice of mere cultural humility was insufficient to fully promote the leadership actions from them and myself. I began shifting my thought to a more decolonial thinking framework. First, I reflected on how I was constantly focusing on being humble and flexible, showing my desire to learn more from the perspectives of Yexy and Wences about planning the photovoice sessions. This initial reflection showed me that I was alert to each person bringing something different to the table. However, the expertise provided by Yexy and Wences would

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often reflect their Eurocentric college training. For example, Yexy preferred structured questions to guide discussions, a preference that limited the participation of the group. Wences seemed to accept most of my proposals and became a sort of translator of prompts to be used during our initial session. I realized then how we three college students, involved in a participatory research project, were setting an academic tone that seemed contrary to the decolonial framework in the Global South. I was directing; they were acquiescing. The predominance of the Western episteme permeates not only college students but all Latin American societies in general. In his influential work, Aníbal Quijano said that one of the elements that characterizes social situations arising from colonial experiences is Eurocentrism deeply rooted in the social, economic and cultural conceptions of the postcolonial country (Quijano, 2000). After this initial reflection, I explicitly conveyed to Yexy and Wences my thoughts and feelings about discovering shared visions for the photovoice sessions without reproducing subconsciously ascribed value to the knowledge holders in their collegiate, Eurocentric space. Together, we decided to explore possibilities for drawing on Andean ways to combat our Eurocentric orientation during the photovoice process. For example, my initial thought of having sessions in historical pre-Hispanic sites and trails that would activate our memories was shifted when I realized, thanks to Wences, that the mountains and their communities were just as important, maybe even more so, than iconic archaeological sites. By arranging a session in Huayllapata with women weavers, Wences showed me the difference. During that session and while applying PCH by honoring the weavers’ guidance and input, Yexy, Wences and I became more honest about our own subconscious inclinations to ignore Andean ways of knowing. Not wanting to reproduce the same situation in our team dynamic, Yexy, Wences, photovoice participants and I talked honestly about how our sociocultural multiplicities would play a role in our interactions. We committed to PCH toward others’ culture but would constantly be wary of the power dynamics that tend to infi ltrate interactions via the matrix of coloniality. PCH also became relevant in our interactions with photovoice participants. During our initial photovoice sessions with 12 college students, Yexy, Wences and I observed again how certain vertical practices, a hierarchical top-down stratification, were expected by most of the photovoice participants. Our emphasis on PCH encouraged all participants in this CBPR to practice collective Andean efforts that would decrease the Eurocentric epistemologies prevalent in participants. For instance, facilitators became engaged constantly during sessions to lessen the vertical dynamics and to create more-democratic dialogues while Quechua community members engaged in problem-solving discussions disrupting the often deficit-view attitude toward Quechua communities and knowledges. Students joined

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with urban and rural Quechua community members as co-participants to access a broader view of Quechua outside of the university. Inspired by Wences’ initial suggestion to have a session with Quechua women weavers in Huayllapata, student participants requested a session with Quechua peoples in Cusco city at the Casa Campesina institution. These students were eager to hear insights from other Quechua communities about their initial fi ndings concerning bilingualism in the university. At the Casa Campesina meeting, a smile, body language, sitting together, dancing in a circle, critical discourse – all encouraged a sharing, a teaching, a learning, a true Quechua encounter (tinkuy) in which trust overrode unfamiliarity. Andean students desired to show locals that they had not forgotten their roots and respected the opinions of the urban migrants at Casa Campesina. In dynamic, interactive discussions with non-student Quechuas, the photovoice students enjoyed honest critical dialogues while reinforcing their own Quechua identities. These participatory collaborations based on PCH reminded students to respect and honor their own saberes-haceres Andinos. They also emphasized the shortcomings of simple cultural humility when trying to promote participatory perspectives, perspectives that would prevent reproduction of a prescriptive framework that would silence Quechua Andean peoples and communities. The reciprocal learning during these collaborative sessions revealed to the students that a sincere appreciation and knowledge of Andean culture, along with collective PCH, would empower their careers as they complete college and re-enter society as professionals. PCH, fundamentally, urges the disruption of the epistimicidio – epistemic attrition (Santos, 2017) of Quechua culture – by affording all participants equal footing, not in an egalitarian sense but with genuine respect for everyone’s personal and collective heritage. This disruption of coloniality progresses by practicing Andean ways of knowing, such as the emergence of saberes-haceres Andinos (Andean experiential knowledge) during this study. Students not only spoke in Quechua but engaged in Quechua practices such as muyu muyurispa, tinkuy and kuka akulliy, all made possible by the willingness of everyone to be open to learning from each other; to learn not only from their words but from their actions, gestures and symbols. Practicing PCH enabled a decolonial read on the participation of all involved in this project – myself, Yexy, Wences, the student participants and all off-campus participants. Dismantling Epistemological and Ontological Injustice

If we are to work from a decolonial perspective, the concepts of epistemic and ontological justice must be accompanied by, indeed must transcend, epistemological and ontological engagements. Epistemological– ontological engagements are acts of decolonial advocates who engage in

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alternative relations with the world. Drawing from the concept of ch’ixi (decolonial gestures), the dissociation of theory from application often reproduces coloniality among and within us. I would argue that decoloniality of being, knowledge and power is an unfi nished ontological and epistemic justice project. Without PCH, the objectives of decoloniality are tentative, disconnected mental projections that lack epistemological– ontological engagements. In other words, if our aim is to work from a decolonial perspective, we, the researchers, can no longer be the sole arbiters of intellectual epistemic and ontological justice. Rather, we must practice dynamic epistemological and ontological engagements and enact the plurality of knowledge to be effective. Change will not come solely from diversity but must be enacted by a collective of bodies that are committed to work toward dismantling such epistemological and ontological injustice. We may conceive epistemological and ontological engagements as saberes-haceres, experiential knowledge, similar to what Rivera Cusicanqui explained as ‘a practice as a producer of knowledge’ (Rivera & Santos, 2015: 96). Ideation and application must go together to valorize and sustain Quechua during a decolonial project. I propose that epistemology and ontology is not separated from action. Further, I believe that a fundamental touchstone for analyzing decolonial gestures is the collective memory of Indigenous–Western relations. These relations reflect the epistemological–ontological engagements beyond simplistic dichotomies such as the pure Quechua, non-Western categorization of colonial mentality. Applying participatory methodologies oriented by decolonial thinking will augment and elucidate a more realistic appreciation of the similarities and differences of Quechua and Western/European cultures. For instance, the Andean pedagogies discussed in this article diminished the colonial stratifications based on race and led to more respect for and less stigmatization of the Quechua episteme. The collective practice of Andean pedagogies decreased the Eurocentric epistemologies often embodied by every person involved in the partnership. The participatory collaborations reminded photovoice participants of the need for a more profound respect for their own saberes-haceres Andinos. In this chapter, I portrayed the collective symbolic constructions that appealed to participating students during this photovoice study. Understanding the meaning of Quechua–Spanish bilingualism for Andean students using a photovoice methodology required considerations that exceeded an objectivity that refers to standardization of linear processes. In addition, this participatory approach helped move the co-researchers away from the ‘una mirada desde un occidente generico para la denominacion indigena … un otro exotico,’ The English translation: ‘a generalistic Western view to label Indigenous people . . . an exotic other’ (Simbaña Pillajo, 2020: 266). In this way, Andean peoples were viewed as actors of their Andean pedagogies in spaces not necessarily exotic. This allowed the

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recognition of Quechua Indigenous practices in urban spaces and visualized the Andean pedagogies beyond the urban and rural dichotomy. As Simbaña Pillajo (2020) found, there is a need to dismantle the idea of Indigenous ways of being as incompatible to urban ways of living if we truly aim for an intercultural approach toward bilingual education. Enacting Andean pedagogies in higher education spaces exemplifies the intercultural approach possibility. Visual and participatory methods supported Andean pedagogies, thus allowing recognition of the existing strengths within this Andean student community by promoting an authentic dynamic of co-learning and balance of power (coloniality of knowledge and being). Along with the participants, I gained valuable appreciation for the adaptability of the photovoice process and its ability to allow creative, innovative modifications by researchers and community members involved. As an Andean social researcher, I constantly reflect on how science and education can cease to be commensurate allies of vertical, colonializing models. Instead, research must combine the best of Western thought with the tremendous knowledge base of Indigenous populations that have succeeded for thousands of years. This combination, not necessarily a blended assimilationist combination, I think, represents an example of intercultural practice so needed in multicultural spaces. Photovoice methodology within a decolonial framework can advance this intercultural approach to research, enabling the participants themselves to use their capabilities of acquiring, storing and disseminating data in visual and auditory formats. Outsiders, outsider–insiders and even insiders must employ the methodology mindful of and sensitive to the purview of the participants, with an emphasis on participatory as well as decolonial cultural humility. PCH is larger than individual persona. It advocates a systematic level playing field. PCH urges researchers to monitor intercultural processes, so these processes are not only perceived as naive harmonious dynamics but as tensions from which pedagogical proposals can arise. The decolonial framework alerts us that the dominant culture tends to prevail during the so-called intercultural dynamics; therefore, these ideal intercultural processes must be constantly monitored to not simply covering up the acculturation processes. Also, PCH encourages the various Andean saberes-haceres to enliven decolonial gestures by the participants individually and collectively during the photovoice process. All participants cannot commit individually to evaluation of selfcolonialism or to fi xing power imbalances without advocating within the larger participatory study. Andean pedagogies created the possibility of collective unlearning and learning, even transforming, cultural and social practices that open the door to counter hegemonic research practices. Certain strengths emanate from implementing a decolonial turn in community-based participatory research. It promotes resilient Quechua epistemes that empower researchers and reinforce pride inherent in communities’ legacies. Collaborative collection of, storage of, and

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dispersal of key social histories document current fi ndings and provide critical data for future meta-analyses. Lastly, Andean pedagogies help the researcher and community partners transcend academic and political discourse; these pedagogies urge disruption of deficit views of societies, knowledges, languages. Notes (1) Floriberto Díaz (1951–1995), an Indigenous intellectual of the Mixe culture of Oaxaca, introduced the term ‘communality’ to explain the collective forces in contrast to ‘individuality’. (2) Montera is a Spanish word for a traditional hat, which varies in style; pollera is a Spanish word used in the Andean region to refer to traditional skirts, the style of which depicts the place of origin of the person who wears it.

8 Toward a Cyclical T’ikarinanpaq

Prior to discussing an envisioned model to nurture the Blooming of Quechua in higher education and given the relevance of social justice discussion during the photovoice process, it is important to review the concept of coloniality and decolonial gestures. On the one hand, Peruvian sociologist Anibal Quijano defi ned coloniality as an evolved mode of domination in today’s world following the collapse of classical colonialism as a political order (Quijano, 2000). Current coloniality is rooted in historical colonialism yet has morphed into the present reproduction of intersubjective relations wherein one population dominates another. Justification for this coloniality stems from a basic and universal stratification of the world population in terms of race, a societal invention during historical colonialism that assigned selected populations to an allocation of inferiority with respect to others (Quijano, 2000). On the other hand, decolonial gestures strive to dismantle the modes of domination that coloniality nurtures. While the decolonial attitude refers to the discussion ‘whose origin lies in the horror of the world of death created by colonization’ (Maldonado-Torres, 2007: 127), a decolonial gesture refers to an action – thought, body language, imagery – in favor of a ‘semiotic subversion against the totalizing principle of colonial domination’ (Rivera Cusicanqui, 2014: 2). In this coloniality and decoloniality context in higher education in Cusco, how then, is a sustainable path toward Quechua at Universidad San Antonio Abad del Cusco (UNSAAC) being perceived and envisioned by Andean college students? I attempt to respond to this question based on Andean students’ perspectives on both current and projected Quechua (language culture, knowledge and being) blooming at the university campus. Their perspectives might illustrate a bottom-up language-culture planning model within a decolonial framework. Under decolonial views, I argue, bottom-up language planning in higher education in the Andes cannot reproduce colonial ideologies and practices (Anzaldua, 1987; Rengifo Vasquez, 2004; Rivera Cusicanqui, 2014) that promote substrative bilingualism; instead, it aims to invigorate lazos to counteract coloniality forces. 149

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Andean Students’ Perspectives on Current and Projected Quechua Blooming at the University Campus

When exploring the experiences of photovoice participants (2017) regarding their current and projected opportunities to maintain and promote Quechua language and knowledge in higher education. The themes of supay (to act with ill intent), lazos (ties) and t’ikarinanpaq (to flourish) explain the struggles, colonial and decolonial tensions, resistance, contestations, inspiration and hope that Quechua–Spanish bilingual students perceive, live and wish for in their higher education experiences. As illustrated in Figure 8.1, students recognized that support for the use of Quechua at the university was minimal: As portrayed in the figure, Andean students identified experiencing these limitations arising from an intrapersonal, interpersonal, communal and institutional character: supay. Supay, directed by colonial ideologies, refers to limitations that sustain an array of linguistic discrimination, such as language shame practices, the absence of Quechua courses in core

Society

Supay (External societal forces filtering down into university language pracces toward Quechua) University

Lazos (Limited external es to Lazo Limited mited Quechua Pracces

collecve memories, pedagogies, epistemologies)

Figure 8.1 Andean students’ perspectives on current Quechua practices on the university campus

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curricula and the failure of university administration to recognize bilingualism of the Quechua students as an asset. Despite these limitations, Andean students also recognized the importance of their background and commitment to the Quechua peoples through lazos (ties). Lazos have helped create personal spaces within the university through decolonial gestures toward supporting the use of Quechua, to gain respect for Quechua peoples and Quechua knowledges, and to battle against deficit views of bilinguals – actions that in turn encourage the use of Quechua to flourish on campus. A particular space that Andean students identified as a place where they can nurture Quechua knowledge and can practice the Quechua language is the Intercultural Hatun Ñan Volunteer Group (Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan – VIHÑ, Spanish–Quechua acronym). This is a student group managed by students who self-identify as in digenous, mainly Quechua. Photovoice participants in this described study were active members in the VIHÑ who collectively, constantly battled the supay. Also in Figure 8.1, students (VIHÑ members) enact decolonial responses to the coloniality of intrapersonal supay: They increasingly and actively confront the collegiate community at large as they attempt to root out internal colonialism on campus. It is my interpretation that, for these students, the supay existing within the university community can be understood as thinking and acting according to linguistic coloniality (Veronelli, 2012) and epistemic coloniality (Garcés, 2007; Maldonado-Torres, 2007). Most students perceive that Spanish, and therefore European, ideology is superior; many even deny the existence of their native language Quechua. This supay, this linguistic coloniality in the university community, corroborates the literature on lingual colonialism (Garcés, 2007; Rivera Cusicanqui, 2012; Verenolli, 2012; Supa Huaman, 2002; Zavala, 2011) as well as the coloniality of being, knowledge and power (Maldonado-Torres, 2011). In addition, when students speak in either bilingual Spanish or bilingual Quechua, they struggle to overcome linguistic insecurities (McCarty et al, 2009) due to internal colonialism. McCarty et al. (2009) have discussed how college students with Indigenous heritage language in the United States might experience linguistic insecurities in English. In the case of Quechua–Spanish bilingual, this linguistic insecurity is presented in both the academic Spanish college sphere and in the Quechua spoken or written sphere. Further, McCarty et al. (2009) problematize the print privilege that society sends daily to youth as ‘the language privileged in their print environment, in the media, and via technology to overt and covert schooling practices that parse academic (empowering) knowledge from “traditional” (disempowering) knowledge’ (2009: 303). Similar to this realization, Quechua–Spanish college students have perceived this sort of disempowering experience when their Quechua oral variation is contrasted to the (standardized) Quechua orthographies during Quechua language placement tests.

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In the aspect of language racialization, college students spoke about this deficit view of Quechua peoples based solely on their last name, a distinct manifestation of colonial thinking. People with surnames, such as Quispe and Mamani, that show Quechua descent are presumed ignorant, the burden of prejudice levied according to colonial racial categories. These discriminatory and discriminating acts exemplify the impacts of the social practices of power from which they exude: ‘. . . quedó formada de la idea de que los no europeos tienen una estructura biológica no solamente diferentes de los europeos, sino sobre todo pertenece a un tipo o a un nivel inferior.’ The English translation: ‘the idea that non-Europeans have a biological structure not only different from Europeans, but of a lower type or level was stablished.’ (Quijano, 1992: 761). According to participants, the stress of migrating to the city as a university student causes Quechua students to dress as a mestizo (crossbreed); to delink from or deny their Quechua heritage; and to disconnect from, even exclude, others coming from Quechua communities. The use of the social and racial category of mestizo reproduces the coloniality of being (Maldonado-Torres, 2016), an aspiration to belong to more civilized categories. Although mestizo often camouflages the Quechua heritage of numerous bilingual students, most participants in this study continually affirmed their mestizaje: Their Spanish and Quechua languages and ways of knowing coexist within them. Other students consider that the only option for them within the university is to act as mestizos, to detach from their Quechua communities and to accept Spanish as their primary language. This form of coloniality of being has been invigorating the supay and exerts a strong presence at the university and in society (see Figure 7.13). The participants of this study, however, continuously challenge that colonizing ideology because they use Quechua among themselves and openly acknowledge their Quechua communities – actions that also embody their identity as Quechua college people. In another decolonializing act, participants confront the supay that they perceive among other students and university staff by using Quechua ‘insults’ to those who know Quechua but hide it. An insult is a peculiar Quechua practice used for approaching people. These are mocking remarks aimed at discrediting social distance. They are mocking, not hurtful, and help bring people closer within a distressed environment. Insults such as waqcha pituco (poor rich), q’elete (someone with diarrhea), chiwaco (bird of the Andes that eats what it can) are typical insults spoken by the students. Such use of insults to bridge social distance is a common strategy in the daily life of Quechua populations. In another example of combatting supay, photovoice participants reject the belief that Quechua does not belong on the university campus and community, an attitude explained by the sociolinguistic phenomenon of diglossia. This diglossia is a legacy of linguistic coloniality: ‘el fenómeno diglósico se da siempre en términos de adquisición y posición de

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prestigio de la variedad a lo cual conlleva obviamente a relaciones de tensión y conflicto con las otras variantes involucrada.’ The English translation: ‘The diglossic phenomenon is always given in terms of acquisition and prestige position of the variety, which obviously leads to relationships of tension and conflict with the other variants involved’ (Garcés, 2007: 123). The photovoice participants challenge this colonizing sociolinguistic ideology by enacting their bilingual and bicultural Quechua– Spanish practices, projecting a strategic agenda in support of Quechua. They openly decry discriminatory acts toward Quechua peoples. Students also confront sociolinguistic discrimination not only toward their speaking in Quechua but even more so when they speak in bilingual Spanish1 (Escobar, 2001). Students identify such discrimination as Pukawayta (acts of ‘ignorance’), because they come from a blindness that pushes other students and some teachers to denigrate students who speak the bilingual form of Spanish. Despite limitations that students experience when using Quechua in the university, they fi nd solace and support when they form lazos, bonds created between students, certain teachers, and their Quechua cohorts outside of the academic space This need to connect, create, and maintain ties with other Quechua peoples is another decolonial gesture that could be explained as communality: ‘una racionalidad comunitaria y gremial, prácticas que no resulten legibles para el ethos eurocéntrico que sólo podría verla como “supervivencia” al desconocerlos como sujetos colectivos de su propia historicidad, y su propio proyecto de vida.’ The English translation: ‘a communitarian and union rationality, practices that are not readable for the Eurocentric ethos that could see it only as “survival” by not knowing them as collective subjects of their own historicity, and their own project of life’ (Rivera Cusicanqui, 2016: 135). Communality, collective being and knowing, is reproduced by students as a Quechua practice to prevent their fading into the university space of coloniality. The students create and maintain ties through their activities not only on campus but also through visits to villages and urban communities outside of the university space. This enacting of communality by the Quechua–Spanish university students goes beyond nostalgia; it includes a sense of solidarity: Social conscience and collective memory reinforce their desire for social justice. Students know and live the intergenerational disrespect they fi rst learned in their Quechua communities. The practice of communality is at the core of lazos, which invigorates the bonds the Quechua sociolinguistic identity of college students. The participants identified this practice as inspiration that sustains the vitality of their VIHÑ group. The students, through their vibrant lazos with Quechua communities, other academics, teachers and student cohorts, maintain their collective memory that allows them to act and to practice a local social orientation that transcends national history. These ties interrupt the ‘epistemic

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purification’ (De la Cadena, 2007) that tends to encourage the universalization of the knowledge from a Eurocentric perspective: lazos counter policies that support the objective of Hispanicizing future college graduates. Through lazos, the Quechua–Spanish university students collaborate to gain respect for the Quechua community. They perceive their bilingualism as key to this decolonial gesture and a direct refutation of epistemic purification. Further, photovoice participants identified the coloniality of power as the most difficult area to dismantle: It requires collective efforts from bottom up. In Figure 8.1, the coloniality of power is represented by the red arrow of supay, whose presence is found at the university and in society at large. One reason coloniality of power is so difficult to address is that bilingual students, such as the general Quechua population, historically have had limited access to educational systems. Andeans had to fight constantly for their rights. Thus, their limited background in education has been primarily Spanish-centric and has imprinted a colonial mind-set in those students who aspire to higher education. In recent decades, progress has been made to reduce discrimination against Quechua in the educational system. One example of countermeasures to discrimination against Andean students: At the San Antonio Abad National University of Cusco in 1998, a scholarship system for students from Quechua communities was formalized as a result of the actions of peasant federations that negotiated this agreement between UNSAAC and representative indigenous organizations of the region Cusco (Sanborn, 2012). Another example: The students of this photovoice study succeeded in their endeavor to receive formal institutionalization of their VIHÑ group. This administrative, positive response was the result of two years of persistent activism by the students from 2015 to 2017. During the last reflections of this photovoice project, and building on the strength of the members of the VIHÑ, the students agreed to continue the following agenda of VIHÑ through actions to be taken after the completion of this photovoice study: • • •

the inclusion of the Quechua language in the curriculum of the professional careers; the week-long Quechua research event sponsored by UNSAAC vice rector for research; the organization of forums regarding ethnolinguistic awareness, intercultural dialogue, and any topic related to the promotion of decolonial consciousness. (field note, Kenfield, June 4, 2017)

The inclusion of Quechua in the curriculum is rooted in a major reflection of VIHÑ photovoice participants as future professionals. They recognize that without knowing the Quechua language, their ways to serve the region and nation will be limited. Students accept not just one epistemology but a variety of knowledge.

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Further, photovoice participants perceive the Quechua writing and audio production of the various Quechua knowledges to be a practical tool for the maintenance and recovery of Quechua practices. Written and audio material in Quechua by Quechua professionals would enhance education for Andean bilinguals at all levels of schooling. These written and audiovisual materials in Quechua would help them promote Quechua knowledge and facilitate the generational transfer of that knowledge. The proposal of a Quechua research week (Appendix 4) exemplifies a practical implication germinated by the photovoice participants. Students reflected on their learning experiences during Research Week in 2016 and conceived of having a similar event that would focus on Quechua, sponsored by the research dean’s office at UNSAAC, for all students to learn more about the Quechua language and culture in Perú. Photovoice participants envisioned a Quechua research week that portrays Quechua saberes-haceres. For legitimacy, key speakers from highland communities must lead the event. This reflection was informed by the dialogues with women weavers from Huayllapata and the urban migrants they met at Casa Campesina. One suggestion entailed having interpreters translate Quechua into Spanish as well as Spanish to Quechua. I suggested that they request funding for childcare because the Quechua leaders might be mothers coming from their towns with children. Students thought about asking their Quechua professors to present in Quechua or bilingually at such an event. All students wanted Quechua research week to be an annual event, the same as the annually Semana de la Investigacion (Research Week) sponsored by the research dean’s office. The Quechua research week would take place on the UNSAAC campus but would be extended beyond through a magazine and video clips in Quechua and Spanish formats that would document the event and be available in university libraries as well as on Facebook accounts of the research dean’s office. When photovoice participants discussed the Quechua Research Week have also revealed photovoice participants’ awareness of a linguistic coloniality that devalued not only non-European languages but also ‘thought.’ For example, even though the Quechua native expresses thought in Spanish, it ‘will always be less valued than the “thought” of a Spanishspeaker especially if it is urban white mestizo male’ (Garcés, 2007: 126). This connection of language and race also makes evident the ‘coloniality of being,’ which is a major concern of the photovoice participants who hold close ties with Quechua peoples. This concern was evident when photovoice participants drafted a request to the research dean’s office that included a provision for childcare and lodging for the ‘Liderezas campesinas’ (Appendix 4), Quechua women leaders, when participating in their envisioned Quechua research week. The last item in the agenda, the organization of forums regarding ethnolinguistic awareness, has already borne fruit. Examples: In the winter of 2017, right after photovoice ended, members of VIHÑ, who were

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photovoice participants, presented their photovoice fi ndings during an Intercultural Forum of University Students of Perú in the department of Huanuco, a presentation that included a bilingual performance. Following that success, they organized a forum in spring 2018 about intercultural citizenship in their college, UNSAAC. In addition, VIHÑ members were involved in several university and local initiatives to mobilize Quechua beyond the photovoice study. While photovoice participants, members of VIHÑ, were engaged in promoting positive attitudes toward Quechua prior to the photovoice study, discussion of the participatory photovoice process compelled them to realize the critical need for more allies to protest more effectively the erasure of the Quechua language and cultures at large at the university. This realization motivated them to strengthen the agenda of VIHÑ group and reinvest in their unfi nished project, the flourishment of Quechua among the college community, T’ikarinanpaq, based on partnering. These items in the agenda generated by photovoice participants were responses that directly oppose the coloniality of power, knowledge, and being (Maldonado-Torres, 2007). These are constant efforts of VIHÑ to battle impediments to the practice of Quechua (language cultures, epistemologies) not only in the form of daily decolonial gestures (battling supay and nurturing lazos) but also in the form of projected actions to allow bilingual Quechua–Spanish to flourish, ‘T’ikarinanpaq.’ Current decolonial gestures by photovoice students have stimulated a limited sprouting of Quechua within the university community among students, faculty, professional staff, but achieving flourishment of Quechua in a sustainable and expanding way will require a continuous collective effort. Photovoice participants envisioned T’ikarinanpaq as a cyclical, self-perpetuating process that disrupts the reproduction of supay (intrapersonal, interpersonal, communal and institutional limitations) guided by deficit views to Quechua practices, peoples and language, as illustrated in Figure 8.2. Andean students envision that with each cycle of decolonial gestures, each cycle of lazos will bloom even larger and reinforce the students’ collective Quechua practices. The nature of this cyclical process corresponds to the vision not only of collective efforts from the university community members but also corresponds to a working continuum undergoing constant revisions. The Andean students perceive this revision as an annual collaboration between VIHÑ members and the university administration. Photovoice participants not only respect and practice Quechua knowledge but also urge the university to broaden its vision and promote Quechua knowledge in the classroom. Beyond the classroom, college students desire support for a ‘Quechua research week,’ a conference-like event to bring in outlying Quechua peoples and thus create more connections with Quechua communities. In this action, the students are reflecting Santos’ difference between ‘science as monopolistic knowledge and

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Figure 8.2 Andean students’ envisioned cyclical t’ikarinanpaq (cycles of Quechua blooming)

science as part of the ecology of knowledge’ (Santos, 2014: 56). They openly acknowledge and wish to display the richness of Andean knowledge as complementary to and an extension of academic learning. Photovoice participants envision that a greater number of collective forces, coming from faculty, student body, families and staff, will join them to battle discriminatory practices on campus and in the classroom by speaking in Quechua, forming Quechua support groups, requesting coursework in Quechua and petitioning the university administration for more emphasis on the Quechua language as well as physical spaces in which to practice their culture. For Andean students, members of VIHÑ, the physical space recently granted to them, an office, is not large enough for their growing membership body. Under the Ford Foundation-funded Hatun Ñan program, this group, much smaller then, occupied an entire building dedicated exclusively to the Quechua students. As VIHÑ members recruit more bilingual Quechua–Spanish students to their activities at UNSAAC, they will also expand their activism to other campuses, urban Quechua communities, and rural villages in the mountains to have Quechua bloom in the university.

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Insights from this bottom-up language planning model center on regaining respect for Quechua populations, genuine respect that can be achieved by confronting the different forms of coloniality, and seeking equity, which is key to the flourishing of Quechua–Spanish bilingualism in the university. Although college students in general appreciate Quechua as part of their Inka cultural pride, they commonly dissociate from this appreciation through disrespect of its native speakers. Fructuoso stated this emphatically (Figure 8.3) in his criticism of the judicial service in Perú. This inequity is reinforced by the university’s coloniality of power, which demotes the value of the Quechua episteme and elevates only languages and ideologies of European origin as the driving axes of valid knowledge. Andean students believe the envisioned cyclical t’ikarinampaq serves as an effective counter to the institutionalized coloniality of power. In sum, the major challenge then for continuity of efforts to nurture the blooming of Quechua in higher education roots on systemic advocacy Original title: Photo: El Idioma Quechua Como Derecho Fundamental Translated title: The Quechua Language as a Fundamental Right Original text: Esta imagen es el reflejo de las instituciones públicas que tenemos en nuestro país, donde observamos el quechua hablante es considerado como un discapacitado, a pesar que nuestra constitución reconoce que el idioma quechua es un idioma oficial, donde señala expresamente que ‘todo peruano tiene derecho a usar su propio idioma, ante cualquier autoridad.’ ¿Entonces porque considerar a un quechua hablante como un minusválido que limitaciones tiene psíquicas, físicas? No es gracias a la comunicación con el idioma quechua sean construido las grandes construcciones en el incanato que ahora deja atontado a toda la humanidad? Así como la maravilla del Machupicchu. Entonces por que la marginación a un quechua hablante, peor aún en otras instituciones del estado ni existen ventanillas que te pudieran atender en quechua, a sabiendas de que en el Cusco más del 50% de la población es quechua hablante. Es por ello en mi opinión de que todos los egresados de nuestra tricentenaria casa de estudios estén obligados con el dominio del idioma quechua, de esa forma exista un servicio profesional adecuado y correcto a la ciudadanía. ‘Runasiminchista parlasun maypiña, piwanya tariricuspapas’ Translated text: This image is a reflection of the public institutions we have in our country, where we see that Quechua speakers are viewed like disabled people, despite the fact that our constitution recognizes the Quechua language as an official language, where it expressly states that ‘all Peruvians have the right to use their own language before any authority.’ So why would a Quechua speaker be considered the same as a disabled person who has mental or physical limitations? Isn’t it true that it is thanks to communication in Quechua that the great construction projects of the Incas were built, which now leave all of humanity in amazement? Not to mention the glories of Machu Picchu. So why are Quechua speakers marginalized, even more so in other state institutions? There are no service counters that serve people in Quechua, even though we know that more than 50% of the population in Cusco speaks Quechua. That is why, in my opinion, all graduates from our 300-year-old institution of learning should be required to master the Quechua language. That way, there would be adequate and proper professional services for our citizens. ‘Let's speak Quechua wherever we are with whoever we are.’

Figure 8.3 Entry in the brochure. F. Chino Mamani, 2017

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for Quechua epistemologies linked to Quechua language maintenance: A collective effort of people (faculty, student body, VIHÑ, staff and families) must advocate for bilingual students and for Quechua courses in higher education. This advocacy can result in three levels of policy transformation: the micro level, which is the individual photovoice participant as regards their identity affirmation activisms; the mezzo level, which is the VIHÑ organization; and the macro level, which is the systemic effort to inform instructional and curricular policies in higher education toward equitable practices for Quechuas and other Indigenous students. Future Steps Drawing from Old and New Decolonial Visions

In the context of multiple colonialities related to language culture evident by marginalization and internal colonialism of Quechua college communities and many other Indigenous communities, participatory studies and efforts are emerging to contest social injustices. As an insider–outsider, I acknowledge that I am limited to my experiences and assumptions. Here are steps and recommendations I propose to consider: When conducting research: To battle disparities in the field of language-related studies in the Andean communities, researchers should ask questions such as (a) ‘Who benefits from this research?’; (b) ‘Who is participating in this research?’; (c) ‘How valuable is this research for impacting decolonial practices?’; (d) ‘How does this research allow Andean knowledge, methodologies and practices to take place in the research process?’; and (e) and ‘How valuable is this research for impacting sociolinguistic policies?’ Participatory research is necessary to increase, not only our understanding of Quechua practices in the university but the commitment to policy-oriented research to better serve Quechua students and peoples. This commitment should be rooted in ch’ixi (mottled), a nonfundamentalist view to either Indigenous nor Western epistemologies (Rivera Cusicanqui, 2017). Ch’ixi, combining Western and Andean knowledge without necessarily blending them, producing a powerful synergy yet rejecting assimilationist colonial forces, might be a more sustainable path of research to inform policy and to transform community members. When working with Indigenous college students: A further critically important future commitment is to include Indigenous (intercultural, multicultural, diversity) college student organizations such as VIHÑ in discussions of language maintenance, reclamation or revitalization. It is critical to envision a long-term commitment among faculty, administration and Indigenous students toward the blooming of their language culture in the university, which would include Quechua and other minoritized language cultures. Historically, language policy and planning produced by the Peruvian government (similar to many other countries) have

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sustained the Hispanization project even in their intercultural bilingual education model by creating a rural–urban dichotomy and disregarding Indigenous knowledge considered as mere traditional folklore (Valdiviezo, 2013). Most likely, Indigenous college students have experienced those subtractive models toward bilingualism and tend to reproduce this coloniality forces on campus. However, there are active students who battle those ideologies, and even if those students are few in number, their efforts are not insignificant. A bottom-up Quechua language planning approach, Cycles of Quechua Blooming (Figure 8.1), implies trusting Indigenous college students to inform the language planning path. As McCarty et al. (2009: 304) comments: ‘to empower youth… to take risks necessary to sustain minoritized language or constrain their choices and imagined futures’. When working with rural or urban Indigenous college students, we should practice participatory cultural humility (PCH). This practice will allow to see beyond recognizing cultural differences that might trigger folklorization processes because participants will acknowledge how different their colonial experiences have been and how their colonial differences reproduce or do not reproduce coloniality forces. PCH will allow collective work of participants who draw on their colonial and decolonial experiences as forces to battle internal colonialism inherited intergenerationally. When developing (language and content) curriculum and instruction: Coursework rooted in less Euro-centric and more Andean-centric practices is the foundation to respect Quechua peoples. This involves the incorporation of at least basic-language Quechua courses in all of the core curricula for obtaining degrees. Once successfully implemented, basic Quechua can be expanded to address the numerous dialects that comprise the totality of the Quechua language. Also, Quechua students should be given a more appropriate assessment in the Language Center of the university. Current assessments delegitimize nascent literacies of students whose mother language is Quechua. While Quechua–Spanish bilinguals might be perceived as struggling with proficiency in Spanish, these students can prove to be excellent mathematicians, engineers, social scientists and agriculturalists, for example, who can combine Quechua epistemologies and ontologies in their professions. When planning to incorporate Quechua knowledge, including language, in content curriculum, the adoption of a translanguaging pedagogy (García & Leiva, 2014) would be beneficial to affirm the diverse bilingualism and multilingualism of students. The translanguaging is defi ned as ‘the flexible use of linguistic resources by bilinguals in order to make sense of their worlds’ (García & Leiva, 2014: 3). This pedagogy might further support the maintenance of Quechua knowledge as Quechua–Spanish bilinguals present varieties of Quechua and different levels of Quechua

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language proficiency. Quechua blooming should welcome translanguaging on campus as Quechua–Spanish bilingualism in part of the identities of college students as they continuously transit in a Quechua–Spanish continuum. This pedagogy would contest monoglossic language ideology and would favor heteroglossic language ideology, which would battle the hegemonic forces that place Spanish as the only academic language accepted in higher education in Cusco. Further translingual pedagogy would also support bilingual speakers who claim Quechua as their heritage language. When working toward decolonizing the university: Moving away from a fundamentalist view, which blinds us, to Indigenous knowledge is critical when enacting decolonial gestures in higher education. An epistemological turn that sees Indigenous pedagogies as methodologies worth applying in college is critical to disrupt modern science as a privileged form of knowledge regulation. As Santos (2017) asserted: ‘[T]he epistemology of vision is that which asks for the validity of a form of knowledge whose moment and form of ignorance is colonialism and whose moment and form of knowledge is solidarity’ (Santos, 2017: 202). This particular form of knowledge (solidarity) recognizes the ‘other’ as equal as long as  the colonial difference is acknowledged. In the words of Rivera Cusicanqui: . . . tratar de repensar los legados tanto de las sociedades comunitarias como del mundo del trabajo ya influido por modos individualistas, para poner en discusión una especie de esfera intermedia en la cual se formule esta dualidad de un modo creativo (Rivera Cusicanqui & Santos, 2015: 92). The English translation: . . . strive to rethink the legacies of both communal societies and societies already influenced by individualist modes of work, to put into discussion a kind of intermediate sphere in which this duality would be formulated in a creative way.

Thus, we, college community members, must be cognizant that we have been socialized by a form of knowledge that knows how to impose order in nature, an awareness that must be foremost when applying solidarity to the development of knowledge. For instance, UNSAAC research office could fi nancially support students and faculty members who want to publish their research in written or in an audiovisual way in Quechua, Quechua–Spanish, or in any other Indigenous language and not only fi nancially recognized the published work in English or Spanish. Because UNSAAC has proven to have the means to support publications in English (as a foreign language), it can support multimodal publications in Quechua or any Indigenous language that their students bring to campus. Further, when college students envisioned a Quechua research week with the support of the UNSAAC research provost and faculty, the use of Quechua-to-Spanish and Spanish-to-Quechua interpreters was

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mentioned. Interpreting services would be beneficial, but the selection of interpreters would be critical as well as would access to interpreters who reflect two or three Quechua varieties. Also, the use of multimodal presentation, not limited to spoken or written language, can be critical. Visual resources might help to better contextualize Indigenous knowledge from Quechua researchers. An example would be Quechua chronicler Waman Puma de Ayala (1980), who presented important knowledge in more than 300 drawings within Quechua–Spanish translingual text. In addition, the research presentation site must be considered so that contextual limitations could be diminished that might obscure Quechua ontologies and epistemologies (knowledge). Some students envisioned not necessarily only using the UNSAAC campus for Quechua research presenters; this is critical because some of the applied researcher can better share situated Quechua knowledge in their contextual highland communities. Before moving to the next suggested future step, I must mention that I am not discounting the continuing efforts of the UNSAAC community (faculty, students, alumni, staff ) has been mobilizing for decades and probably soon after its foundation in 1692. For example, the recently deceased Prof. Jorge Flores Ochoa who practiced Ayni when conducting ethnographic fieldwork in highland communities, or Prof. Justo Mantilla Holguin 2 who continue engaging students with different Quechua pedagogies when working in natural sciences. When working on Quechua language planning and policy in higher education: Quechua language planning and policy needs to move away from solely focusing on standardized Quechua orthographies; rather, it should acknowledge the intergenerational Quechua languages and knowledge of students, regardless of the chosen Quechua orthography in higher education. Although written Quechua systems are critical to advance reading and writing abilities, unfortunately, the Quechua print seems to privilege Spanish literate students over Quechua college students whose mother language is Quechua. Quechua–Spanish bilingual college students are perceived as deficit bilinguals when their Quechua (from birth) cannot pass the Quechua written test (in college), yet they can speak in their highland communities in Quechua. Oracy of Quechua languages, which are historically taught and maintained orally, must become paramount when planning to sustain and bloom Quechua in higher education. The university needs to consider a form of digital or physical repository that contains Quechua language materials that reflects the Quechua diversity. This initiative, through the dean’s research office, should recognize and compensate those faculty and students, who might collaborate with Quechua communities, to publish in such a database.

Toward a Cyclical T’ikarinanpaq 163

Concluding Thoughts

In this book, I argue that in order to overcome the cycle of structural disconnection between researchers and the bilingual Quechua communities about whom we write, we must engage in participatory approaches to sociolinguistic research. Shifting to a participatory approach will support a major goal of community-based participatory research (CBPR) – reclaiming the historic possibilities of connectivity and collaboration in social problem solving. The CBPR that framed this study required a community organization to be a critical partner with this academic investigator. The student organization VIHÑ became that partner because the students had the experience, history and capability to sustain projects necessary to apply the fi ndings of the photovoice study to real-life resolutions. Enabling the CBPR orientation also required reframing the photovoice process by applying ontological and epistemological outcomes that emerged from the collaboration of VIHÑ, CAB, the Quechua peoples and this insider– outsider researcher. By extension, this study should resonate with faculty, student body, policymakers and community members in general who share an Andean heritage. All can learn from the documented experiences of Quechua– Spanish bilingual college students to enhance ethnolinguistic awareness and respect. Ethnolinguistic awareness is critical to battle long-standing coloniality and thereby better serve Quechua communities. Photovoice students, who are also members of VIHÑ, are individual and collective activists. However, they could effectively participate in the configuration of university policy. The UNSAAC administration would benefit from the input these VIHÑ students have regarding linguistic as well as humanistic policies to democratize knowledge and to dismantle epistemicides. To better serve Quechua students, university policymakers need to formulate policies that are informed from the bottom up and within a decolonial framework. The analysis and discussion of the fi ndings in this thesis raise important questions for Quechua college policymakers: For what purpose and in whose interest are the college policies serving? How are these policies affecting Quechua faculty and student population on the rise? Is there a better way to bring in Quechua knowledge and other Indigenous knowledge to contribute to the well-being of all college students and the nation? As suggested in this study, critical collective forces are at the core of conditions to promote Quechua–Spanish bilingualism. But this collective effort must reflect decolonial, non-Eurocentric thinking for the benefit of Andean students, who are future professionals who can enact Quechua epistemologies, not only Western ways of knowing. Ch’ixi, chiqchi, ch’iqchi (Figures 8.4–8.8)!

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Figure 8.4 From Puelles family’s field. M. Puelles, 2021

Figure 8.5 Ch’iqchi kukuli saracha. I. Quispe Puma, 2021

Toward a Cyclical T’ikarinanpaq 165

Figure 8.6 Coya’s harvest. D. Medrano Vasquez, 2021

Figure 8.7 Chiqchi sara. M. Medrano Vasquez, 2021

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Figure 8.8 Qanka saracha. E. Tito Vega, 2021

Notes (1) In the field of sociolinguistics, bilingual Spanish refers to the Spanish variety that carries morphosyntactic and phonological features from the Quechua linguistic inventory that carry into Spanish. (2) 2020 Interview to Justo Mantilla Holguin around Quechua and Indigenous knowledges, languages, epistemologies and cosmovisions: https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=U0uC1ml8J-4

Appendices

Appendix 1: Consent to Participate in Research

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Appendix 2: Interview Question Script

Note: This is not the copy that will be seen by participants. It is possible that these questions were rephrased/changed some, but this shows the semi-structure nature of the interview sessions. The interview session will begin as follow: Thank you so much for participating in this interview. I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me. I expect this interview to take up to about 1 to 1.5 hours of your time. Please let me know at any time if you do want to use your full name or if you prefer to have your name changed for a pseudonym. You do not need to answer any question that make you feel uncomfortable. Again, my thanks for your participation. (1) How do you defi ne your experience in portraying your message through pictures? (2) Have you participated in any dialog with others before or during taking pictures? Can you describe that experience? To whom did you talk? (3) What is the main message you want to present to your audience through your selected pictures? (4) What other messages want to discuss with your audience? (5) How important will explaining your own experiences with language exclusion or inclusion be when presenting these pictures? (6) Do you feel that the images will engage discussions about prejudice based on the Quechua language in Cusco city? How? (7) How are you planning to adjust your presentation when you audience would be young people (college students in contrast to older people (professors))? Is there anything you would like to share that we have not included here about your picture-taking journey for photovoice? I would like to express our sincerest gratitude to you for sharing your thoughts and experiences with me here today.

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Appendix 3: Brochure

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Appendix 4: Draft Proposal

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Index

Note: ‘n’ refers to chapter notes. Action-oriented participatory research, 21 Amazonian, 3, 8, 11–12, 13n2, 40, 131 Andean, 5, 8, 11, 28, 32, 63, 90, 118, 159 Andean ontologies and epistemologies, 92 Andean Pedagogies, 24, 123–148 Andean Studies, 14–27, 141 Andean Spanish, 11 Andes, 60n10, 76, 82, 84–85, 93, 100, 112, 127, 149, 152, 158 Apurimac, Peru, 34, 40, 60n7 Aymara, 11, 16, 25, 28, 60n10, 138 Ayacucho, 5–7, 37, 100–101, 104 Ayllu, 33, 40 Ayniy, 124, 136–138, 162 Ashaninka, 8

communal knowledge, 90 comuneras, 41, 45–48 Coya, 15, 165 Critical interculturality, 7 Cyclical T’ikarinanpaq, 149–166 Cultural Humility, 22, 37, 123–148 Cusco, 6–9, 11, 15–16, 18, 26, 27n1, 28–29, 33–34, 37, 39, 40, 45, 59, 67, 79, 89, 96, 102, 112, 123, 129–130, 133–134, 138, 149, 154, 161 decolonial ideologies, 14, 123 Decoloniality, 8, 14, 23–25, 32, 143, 146, 149 Decolonial thinking, 14, 22–25, 30, 58, 143, 146 decolonial gestures, 26, 32, 89, 94, 105, 146–147, 149, 151, 156, 161 deficit views, 5, 25, 148, 151, 156 diglossic ideologies, 25 Diné, 18, 22

Bilingual Intercultural Education, 5–6, 34, 42, 44, 160 Bilingual Spanish, 11–12, 26, 29, 40, 69, 70–72, 78, 107, 151, 166n1 Biliteracy, 25–26 Bilingualism, 8, 25–26, 39, 73, 75, 78, 90, 94, 99, 105–106, 114, 139, 145, 149, 151, 154, 160

epistemic decolonial turn, 31–32 ethnolinguistic awareness, 38, 117, 128, 154–155, 163 Euro-centric, 85, 92, 160

Centro de Estudios Regionales Andinos Bartolomé de las Casas (CBC), 39–40 Chicana, 18 chi’xi, 14 Coloniality 8, 14, 22–24, 105, 143–144, 147, 149, 151, 154–156, 158, 160, 163 colonial ideologies, 24, 63, 68, 149–150 community-based participatory research (CBPR), 14, 18–22, 28, 36, 60n9, 141, 147, 163 Community Advisory Board, 36, 38–40, 47, 59, 60n9, 123, 133, 142–143

Hatun Ñan, 5, 6, 11–12, 30, 33, 37–38, 42, 56, 60n3, n6, 77, 95–96, 99, 101, 106, 117, 139, 151, 157 hegemonic system, 14, 83 Heritage-language, 82 Hilaria Supa Huaman, 4, 22, 30–31, 60n4 Huayllapata, 35, 41, 44, 51, 59, 82, 101, 108, 125, 127, 129, 131, 144–145, 155 Inca Roca, 17 Indigenous knowledge, 14, 95, 160–163, 166 Indigenous languages, 3, 6, 8, 15, 22, 103 195

196

Enacting and Envisioning Decolonial Forces while Sustaining Indigenous Language

Indigenous epistemologies, 18 Indigenous peoples, 3, 17–18, 60n11, 79n2 Inka, 16–17, 28, 84, 99 institutional discrimination, 65, 90 Kakinte, 8 kuka akulliy, 124, 132–136, 145 Language attitudes, 7–8, 11–12 language equity, 19, 118 language ideologies, 7–9, 11, 14, 105 language policy, 20, 159 language racialization, 11, 152 linguistic discrimination, 11–12, 70, 74, 150, 153 loss of language, 69 Maori, 30 Matsiguenga, 8 monoglossic ideologies, 69–70 mote, 11, 70–72, 107 mother tongue, 9, 11, 33–34, 66, 105 muyu muyurispa, 124–128, 138, 145 Nanti, 8 North-South dialogues, 18 Participatory Cultural Humility, 123–148, 160 Pachamama, 91, 126 Photovoice, 19, 20–22, 24–27, 29, 32–33, 35, 38–40, 44–46, 48, 52, 55–56, 58–59, 63, 65, 67, 69, 71–72, 75, 78, 82, 85, 87–88, 90–91, 95, 98–100, 102–103, 105–106, 108–111, 114–115, 118, 123–126, 129, 131, 133, 136, 138–139, 140, 143–144, 146–147, 151–152, 154–155, 163 pre-Incancivilizations, 82 policymaking, 5, 21, 36, 55, 163 Quechua conventions, 26–27 Quechua heritage, 5, 14–16, 28, 68, 81, 95, 152

Quechua language, 5, 8, 11, 15, 17, 26, 33–34, 36–37, 45, 59, 63–64, 68, 70, 73, 75, 80–81, 83, 85–86, 90, 92–94, 102, 105, 107–108, 111, 114, 116, 118, 127, 130, 133, 135, 138, 142, 150–152, 154, 156, 160, 162 Quechua identity reaffirmation, 135 Quechua–Spanish bilingual, 3, 5, 9, 11–12, 14, 23, 25, 38–39, 40, 44–46, 63, 68, 70, 74, 78, 80, 85, 94–95, 97, 105, 107–109, 113, 115, 117, 129, 146, 150–151, 158, 160, 162–163 Quechua–Spanish translingual, 26, 162 Quechuañol, 41, 60n2, 71 Researcher’s Identity, 14–18 Researcher’s Positionality, 14–18, 142 Sabers-haceres, 124, 140, 145–147, 155 San Antonio Abad University, 18, 60n3 Sociolinguistic Studies, 7–12, 14, 22, 40, 108, 153, 159, 163, 166n1 SHOWeD method, 20–21, 47, 53–55 South–North educators, 18, 22, 30 Surandina, 14 Subjectivities, 14–18, 24, 124 Supay, 63–79, 94, 150–152, 154, 156 Taos, 18 T’ikarinanpaq, 94, 119, 149–166 Tinkuy, 124, 128–132, 137, 145 Voluntariado Intercultural Hatun Ñan, 30, 33, 37, 56, 60n3, n6, 77, 94, 97, 99–100, 106, 117, 151 Wachipaeri, 8 Wat’ia, 90 Yine, 8 Yora, 8