On the third sublevel of City Hall, where ventilation schematics have long since been swallowed by time, there is an office no one ever asks about.
The Ministry of Lost Things.
It appears on no building plan, yet boxes are constantly being delivered there.
Inside: socks, buttons, names of dead cats, lost dreams, forgotten keys to apartments that no longer exist.
The Minister is a pale man in a dark suit, with a face that seems slightly unfinished — as if the sculptor gave up halfway through.
He never lifts his eyes. He only whispers:
— What have you lost?
The clients vary. Some are looking for umbrellas. Some — for childhood.
One man returned for three years in a row, looking for his lost sense of humor, but each time he received only a receipt… and the faint sound of laughter behind the wall.
— We don’t return things, — they told him.
— We only register the absence.
One day, a child came in. He held a handful of air.
— This was my imaginary friend, — he said. — He disappeared when I grew up.
The Minister looked up from his papers.
For the first time ever.
— You don’t understand, — he said. — You disappeared.
And he just stayed… waiting.
2. The Letter That Never Arrived
Every morning, Edith came to the post office looking for a letter. Since 1957.
She would arrive precisely at 9:03, in a gray coat with a pearl button, walk up to the window, and say the same phrase:
— “Perhaps today.”
Young clerks came and went, aged, retired.
Only Danny — now gray and hunched — remembered that once, in 1957, she really did receive a letter.
She opened it, read it… and froze.
The next day, she came again.
— “Perhaps today,” she said, as if nothing had happened. And she kept coming.
No one knew who the letter had been from.
No one knew what it said.
And she never told.
On her table at home stood a crystal vase. Inside — carefully folded, yellowed with time — was the envelope. Opened. Empty.
3. Dream Registration
A new department opened in the city. Not for complaints, not for taxes. For the registration of dreams.
— Not a storyline, but the right to one, — explained the clerk.
— So that no one later appears in your dreams without permission.
The first to come was a man who, every night, dreamt of the same woman. He didn’t know who she was, but every time he woke up in tears.
— I want to keep her for myself.
— Describe her.
He described her eyes, her voice, the moment of farewell. Without a word, the clerk handed him a form: “Dream No. 14382. Registered. Claims denied.”
Then came a woman who hadn’t dreamt anything in a long time. She demanded compensation.
— For the void.
— That’s not for us. That goes to the neighboring department.
In the corner sat a boy, drawing something on his palm.
— And what are you waiting for?
He didn’t look up.
— I was born in a dream. No one registered me.
By evening, a man in a suit arrived. There was a stamp on his forehead.
— I am a foreign dream. Someone invented me and then forgot about me. I want to be free.
The clerk sighed.
— That’s against the rules. If you become real — who will be held accountable?
— And what if no one answers? — asked the man.
Then the lights in the room went out, and no one ever woke up again.
She thought about writing a letter for a long time.
But she never did.
She couldn’t even remember how many times she had picked up a piece of paper, twirled a pen between her fingers, searching for the heavy words in her heart. It felt like if she wrote them down, the weight inside her would become lighter. But the words never came.
It was as if each letter had to be torn from her heart, as if every sentence reopened an old wound.
So, she didn’t write.
Maybe she had to accept the emptiness inside her not as love, but as just another trial of fate.
For the first time, she had opened her heart, longing for affection. She had never received enough love from her family, always felt like an outsider, and had learned to swallow her feelings. And when she loved, she loved with her whole being—with every emotion she had carried since childhood.
The one she loved gave her warmth. He filled the empty spaces in her heart. A heart that had never known tenderness finally felt it for the first time.
But… life was cruel. Fate had chosen a different path for them.
She was in another land. Another city, different people, a foreign world. And more than anything, she needed warmth. But that warmth only existed in one person. He was the one who comforted her, who didn’t let her feel lost. With him, her world was bright.
But time passed, and she had to return home.
And when she came back… everything had changed.
They loved each other. But now, they could no longer protect their love. Distance, fate, reality, people—everything stood between them like a wall.
They parted ways.
From that day on, her life split into two.
On one side was her old self—the girl who longed for affection, who dreamed, who found happiness in little things.
On the other side was her new self—cold, distant, and perhaps even afraid of love.
She started living without love. No, not without love. She was alive, but inside, she was empty.
Because when she loved someone, she loved forever. That was just who she was.
She would watch her favorite movie over and over again.
She would listen to the same song for weeks.
She would wear the same outfit, refusing to replace it.
And when she loved someone—she loved them always.
That’s why she never buried her love.
She never spoke of it, never shared it with anyone.
She kept it inside.
Like an unwritten letter.
All she had left were memories.
The photos of them together.
The matching watches.
And the most precious thing of all—the flowers he had given her.
They were still with her.
The drawing he made never left her side.
Time passed. But she didn’t change. She buried herself in studies, set new goals.
She didn’t let anyone get close to her.
She became like a rose with thorns—beautiful from a distance, but ready to wound anyone who dared to come too close.
The letters she wanted to write were never written.
But they remained in her heart.
Every heart carries such unwritten letters.
Some people eventually burn them.
Some keep them forever.
And she… she is still keeping them.
Unwritten letters.
Unspoken words.
And now… she is afraid to remember.
Because remembering hurts too much.
Bokijonova Madinabonu Batirovna was born on 19th of May 2004 in Beshkapa mahalla, Qoshtepa district, Fergana region. She is currently a 3rd year student of the Faculty of Philology, Fergana State University, Russian language and literature. Several of her stories have been published in various magazines.
“In the heavens He has set out a tent for the Sun, which comes out like a bridegroom from his wedding canopy.” — Psalms 119:5
I.The Sun
My late wife Cuxirimay, known as Doña Angelina Yupanqui by my fellow Spaniards, was transferred to the acllahuasi in Quito soon after her first blood, when she was no older than ten years old. There is no exact translation for the word “acllahuasi” in the Spanish language, but I suppose the word “convento” is a close approximation. The word “huasi” means “house” and the word “aclla” means the “chosen one.” So, the acllahuasi was the home for the chosen ones, the virgins of the Sun. There was a rule that applied to all of them, young or old. Those among the acllas who were unfaithful to the Sun and had carnal relations with ordinary men were summarily put to death, with no possibility of clemency or mercy, since their sinful actions were thought to invite the Sun-god’s wrath.
There were only three fates possible for the virgins of the Sun. First, they could remain virginal acllas into perpetuity, until the day they finally expired, dedicating their whole lives to praying to the Sun-god Inti to whom they were wedded and who was their only spouse. Others were allowed to marry members of the Inca nobility so long as the princes were descendants of the Sun-god themselves, as were all the Sapa Incas and their cousins and half-brothers. Finally, a very few – the chosen among the chosen – were given what the high priests called the glory of being sacrificed to the Sun-god Inti in a supreme act of veneration called the Capacocha. The high priests, dressed in virginal white, would unsheathe their tumis, their golden sacrificial knives, and plunge them into the virgins’ chests to extract their hearts and collect their blood. Many of those chosen for this function looked forward to the prospect of immediately ascending to hanaq pacha to join their tata Inti and drank chicha to excess before submitting to the knife. Many of the other virgins felt a certain envy toward them for that reason. Not so my late Cuxirimay. Though she was devoted to the Sun, she felt pity for his sacrificial victims and cried when one of her friends was taken for that purpose.
Cuxirimay would rather be a princess, the consort of a man of flesh and blood. She still remembered that she had been pledged to her cousin Atahualpa as his piwi warmi – the chief of all his wives and concubines – when she was but a child. There was no doubt about the nobility of Atahualpa’s lineage – he was reputed to be a direct descendant of the Sun – so there was no doubt she could join him as his wife if he so chose. His father Huayna Capac was the Sapa Inca of the entire Tahuantinsuyo – quechua for the four regions of the Inca empire – and there were rumors that upon his death, Atahualpa among his many brothers would be the one rising to the throne. Cuxirimay dreamed of becoming his Coya, the one and only queen of the Inca empire, and fervently prayed that the Sun-god Inti and other sundry deities would grant her wishes. She dreamed of the day when he would visit the acllahuasi and claim her as his own.
The House of the Sun where the chosen virgins congregated – all three-hundred of them – looked nothing like a Spanish convent, at least from the outside, and resembled nothing as much as the stone fortress at Sacsayhuaman. The acllahuasi was a massive structure surrounded by giant walls, twelve feet tall, built of stones perfectly fitted with each other without mortar. It was built such that the acllas would never find it possible to flee and meet some furtive lover. Escape was also nearly impossible because there was a single entrance to the acllahuasi, protected by four enormous castrated Yanaconas, what you Spaniards typically call eunuchs. It must be remembered that unlike our nuns in Spain, the acllas had made no solemn decision to lead their entire lives in chastity. They had been selected to do so since they were very young, sometimes before their first blood, without any input of their own, mostly because of their uncommon beauty and promising intelligence. In the case of my Cuxirimay, the decision had been made for her when she was only ten years old by her father, a descendant of the Sapa Inca Huayna Capac. But even in her earliest adolescence my Cuxirimay was a passionate woman, caressing men in her dreams since she could not do so when awake. Those of you who read this in Spain must understand that the native women of the Indies are naturally fogosas – they are ardent when it comes to love – and my Cuxirimay was no exception. I know it well since I was her third husband, the fourth if you count the Sun-god Inti as the first. Those of you who live in the empire of the Sun already know about the fervent nature of its women and should not be surprised if I tell you my Cuxirimay was not created for the cloister. She was destined for a marriage sanctified by God where her unruly passions might find a legitimate outlet through which to express themselves. And I believe that of all her husbands I was the only one to provide her such an opportunity. Atahualpa was a heathen until his last day on earth and Pizarro never married Cuxirimay in a Catholic church. Now that she is gone, I pray that I at least acquitted myself as her husband well.
***
Sumac Warmi was Cuxirimay’s best friend at the acllahuasi. Both competed with each other for the designation as the most beautiful of the residents at the convent of the Sun. Like Cuxirimay, Sumac Warmi had light brown skin, held her hair in twin black braids and had a shapely woman’s figure. By the time she was fourteen, her silhouette was so enticing that it would have attracted any man, but of course as a virgin of the Sun it was verboten for her to even be seen by men except in very narrow circumstances. An aclla could interact with men only when princes came to the acllahuasi in search of wives or when priests arrived in search of women to be sacrificed to the Sun. Other men were forbidden from entering the House of the Sun under pain of death which made it very difficult for a virgin of the Sun to fall in love with any mortal man. But it happened to Sumac Warmi, to her everlasting regret. One sultry afternoon, she met a boy who became the apple of her eye.
The noble Ninan Cuyoshi, son of Huayna Capac and half-brother to the notorious Inca Atahualpa, arrived at the acllahuasi with the specific intention of finding Cuxirimay, for he had heard of her uncommon beauty as well as her unquestionably noble lineage. When the elegant man approached her, she was sitting next to Sumac Warmi, whom Ninan Cuyoshi did not even seem to notice despite her exceptional beauty. He brought with him a page, scarcely fifteen years old, who carried with him an emerald necklace on a cushion which Ninan Cuyoshi intended to give to Cuxirimay once she accepted his proposal. The Inca nobleman had also brought a feather headdress, fine multi-colored textiles laced with gold, a garland of roses, a magnificent silver ring and sundry fruits brought from every corner of the empire. Without any preambles, Ninan Cuyoshi advised Cuxirimay that he wanted to take her as his wife. To his unending surprise, given his status as a descendant of the Sun himself, the woman laughed at him with scorn. Ninan Cuyoshi felt a sudden fury, a desire to strike her, but he composed himself and asked her to take a walk with him so they could discuss the matter further and in private. Cuxirimay rose from where she was sitting on the ground and told him, “It’s no use. I am betrothed to another.”
“Do you mean the Sun?” asked the incredulous Ninan Cuyoshi. Given his status and his habit of command, the last thing he had expected was a summary rejection. “If that is the case, you should understand that the Sun-god Inti will not be offended if you take me as your husband. I am a direct descendant of Manco Capac, firstborn of the Sun himself, and after the death of my father Huayna Capac I shall be the Sun’s favorite son as well as a god.”
“I am pledged to Atahualpa,” responded Cuxirimay. “You are a very attractive suitor but I am waiting for your brother. And I shall become the moon’s favorite daughter myself.”
“Don’t you understand that I am first in line to the throne in case my father Huayna Capac closes his eyes and makes his voyage to the Sun? Would you marry a prince rather than one who is destined to be the Sapa Inca, the one and only ruler of the Tahuantinsuyo?”
“I have it from a high priestess, who knows how to read the stars, that you shall not survive Huayna Capac – your father and my grandfather. I have it from a high priestess, who knows how to read the stars, that Atahualpa shall rule over the entire empire, all of its four suyos, North, South, West and East, that he shall be the one and only son of the Sun. His very name means ‘destined for glory in combat.’ By marrying Atahualpa I shall become the most powerful woman of the vast lands dominated by the Incas.”
“I am sure I can find a high priest who says the opposite. And don’t forget that if I die before my father, it is not Atahualpa but Huascar who shall ascend to the throne of the Inca Empire. I don’t know why you are so loyal to my brother Atahualpa, whom you haven’t even seen in years. The most he can aspire to is being the incap rantin of Quito, a regional governor.”
“I haven’t seen him since I was five, when he left for Cusco, but I don’t want to be another of your concubines, of which you have plenty, Ninan Cuyoshi. I was born to be the queen of all the Incas, not the passing fancy of an Inca prince. If I marry Atahualpa and he becomes the Sapa Inca I shall be his Coya. You already have a wife who shall be given that title if you become Lord of all the Incas. Or can you promise me something different? Are you disposed to divorce your wife this very moment and pledge to make me your one and only Coya?”
“What do you mean by divorce? It may be commonplace in other quarters, but as far as I know, it’s not practiced in the Tahuantinsuyo.”
“Depart! Be fleet-footed! I have been born to be a Coya, not one of many Inca consorts. I shall not allow myself to be the equivalent of a prostitute who can be easily discarded when my destiny is to be not only a queen but a goddess on earth.”
Cuxirimay and Ninan Cuyoshi hastily returned to the place where they had left Sumac Warmi and the prince’s fifteen-year-old page. The emerald necklace was in Sumac Warmi’s hands while his servant held the other gifts.
“Lupuc!” cried out Ninan Cuyoshi in an angry voice. “It is time to leave. Take the emerald necklace and the other gifts with you! I shall never understand these warmikunas. I should take this woman here and now, but I won’t defile a virgin chosen by the Sun.”
“I take it something went wrong,” said Sumac Warmi once the two visitors had left. “Did you reject the man’s proposal? You know who he is, don’t you? You’ve refused to be the wife of the next Sapa Inca, soon to be emperor of the whole Tahuantinsuyo.”
“I am waiting for something better.”
“Who could be better than the son of Huayna Capac?”
“Another son of Huayna Capac,” Cuxirimay replied.
“I think I’ve fallen in love,” said Sumac Warmi, apropos of nothing.
“You fell in love with Ninan Cuyoshi? You should have let him know it. You would be the most beautiful of all his concubines.”
“No, that’s not it. I was talking about the young Lupuc.”
Cuxirimay laughed.
“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with a mere servant. You’re a member of the Inca nobility and should aspire to someone in a lofty position. You just think you love Lupuc because you’re not accustomed to seeing men. You should just wait for a nobleman to come to the acllahuasi looking for a wife.”
“It’s not because I’m not accustomed to seeing men. Lupuc is special. He’s so gentle, so intelligent, and you can’t deny that he cuts a lovely figure.”
“Well, forget about it. You will never see him again. He won’t be allowed into the House of the Sun without his master Ninan Cuyoshi. And Ninan Cuyoshi will never return.”
“We’ve made plans,” sighed Sumac Warmi.
“Plans?” echoed Cuxirimay.
“Yes, he will come to the convent of the Sun dressed as a girl. He is so thin and waiflike that the guards at the entrance will not guess that he is male. He doesn’t even wear a wara, the garments which distinguish men from boys.”
“Don’t forget that the penalty for bringing a man into the acllahuasi is a certain death – for the two of you.”
“He won’t be caught,” responded Sumac Warmi. “I am sure of that. The goddess moon will protect us, my dearest mother Quilla.”
***
Soon thereafter Sumac Warmi appeared at the hut she shared with Cuxirimay with Lupuc at her side. You would never have guessed that he wasn’t a girl had you seen her that bright Sunday morning. He wore a long tunic of the finest alpaca wool, a coat encrusted with emeralds and other gems, his long black hair in braids. Cuxirimay didn’t hesitate to redouble her warning to Sumac Warmi, advising her she was risking death, but the enamored ñusta did not listen and just pleaded that Cuxirimay would keep her secret from all the others. Then Sumac Warmi of the house of Pachacuti absconded into the hut with her plebeian lover and gave herself to love for the first time with a feverish delight. Soon Lupuc visited Sumac Warmi every week. Neither the guards at the entrance to the acllahuasi nor anybody else ever suspected that Lupuc was a boy whose entry into the convent of the Sun was absolutely prohibited under pain of death. The couple became increasingly bold, walking arm in arm through the acllahuasi, even daring to appear in front of the mama kunas, who were in charge of enforcing the rules forbidding the acllas from entertaining men. And my Cuxirimay told me that in fact they were never caught and nobody guessed that beneath the raiment of a ñusta hid a lustful adolescent boy. But my Cuxirimay added that the Sun was a jealous husband and would not so easily be cuckolded. It did not take long for tata Inti to exact his vengeance.
One morning Cuxirimay found Sumac Warmi crying on the ground next to the wooden hut covered by straw in which she slept. She was sobbing uncontrollably, pulling out her hair.
“What’s wrong?” asked Cuxirimay.
“I thought Mama Quilla would protect me, goddess of the moon and the menstrual cycle.”
“And she didn’t protect you? Tell me, Sumac Warmi. Have you missed your yamarnimpi kachkari?”
“It’s been three moon cycles now that I haven’t bled. We were being careful, but I suppose we weren’t careful enough.”
“You shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve been seeing Lupuc for the last six quillas.”
“What am I to do? As soon as the head of the mamakunas finds out, the priest shall come with the golden tumis and avenge the sun-God’s honor.”
“Perhaps you can somehow escape,” suggested Cuxirimay.
“I can’t climb over the twelve-feet walls of the acllahuasi nor can I get past the fierce yanaconas at its entrance. And if I escaped I would be found. I wouldn’t be safe in any corner of the Tahuantinsuyo. I fear I am doomed, Cuxirimay. Oh, if my mother the moon would help me and restore my period! Don’t you know some refer to menstruation as the quilla, giving it the same name as the moon and the months?”
“That isn’t going to happen, Sumac Warmi. The moon is an ally of the sun and won’t be complicit in his betrayal. You’ve committed a grave transgression against our father the Sun and Quilla will have nothing of it.”
“Is there nothing I can do?”
“I am thinking of a last-ditch gambit,” responded Cuxirimay. “Have you ever heard of the aclla Achanqara? She was impregnated by the Sun itself. When she was about to be killed after her pregnancy was discovered, she pleaded that it had been the Sun-god Inti who had lain with her. Why don’t you say the same thing, that the Sun ravished you in the night?”
“I don’t know,” responded Sumac Warmi. “Would such a story be believed?”
“You have no alternative,” answered Cuxirimay. “Go to the head of the mamakunas and tell her the Sun chose you as his own. After all, everybody knows you’ve never left the convent and nobody knows of the existence of your lover Lupuc. How, then, can you have become pregnant if not by the actions of the Sun?”
“I’ll talk to her. Pray to tata Inti for forbearance. I shall drink some sacred and bitter asua before I meet with her, to give me strength.”
“May Pachacamac and Viracocha protect you,” said Cuxirimay.
The head of the mamakunas listened to Sumac Warmi in rapt absorption as she spun her tale.
“I was asleep on the reed mat on the floor when suddenly the resplendent Inti appeared and roused me. I knew he was the Sun although he came in human form. He seemed to be entirely made of gold and his eyes were fiery like bright green emeralds. His hair, too, was golden and somehow I could see his heart pounding in his chest as if his body were transparent. And then he took me like a man takes a woman, except that I felt that not only my uku raka was inhabited but my entire being. I was in a trancelike state, like a priest after drinking ayahuasca, and felt an ecstasy of soul and body. I can’t be accused of cheating on the Sun my husband since it was with him I slept.”
“That is a fantastic and engrossing tale,” said the head of the mamakunas, “but frankly I find it hard to believe. Only a few acllas in history have been given the blessing of consorting with the Sun itself.”
“How else could I have become pregnant? I’m in the acllahuasi night and day and have never been alone with any of the men who visit, neither noblemen nor priests. Nor could I have escaped in the night, for the walls of the House of the Sun are massive.”
Two weeks later, the head of the mamakunas assembled all the virgins at the convent of the Sun and told them about the fate of Sumac Warmi.
“By now, some of you know that one of your sisters is with child. Under ordinary circumstances, that would warrant a swift and merciless execution. But I have examined her inward parts and they are inviolate. If she leaves the convent to marry a nobleman, she will bleed on their first night. Sumac Warmi remains a virgin despite being pregnant. It is the Sun itself who has chosen her as his consort but he did not leave a trace of his deed other than the child herself.”
Cuxirimay told me that she was never sure whether Sumac Warmi’s hymen was intact or whether the head of the mamakunas, feeling love and pity for Sumac Warmi, had invented the miracle in order to save her from the knives of the omnivorous priests. But it was to no avail. As soon as Quito’s head priest heard the news of Sumac Warmi’s pregnancy, he countermanded the order to spare Sumac Warmi’s life, saying he did not believe in virgin births.
And so on a bright sun-filled morning the chief priest plunged his tumi into Sumac Warmi’s breast and extracted her heart as if she were a llama sacrificed in a religious ritual. My Cuxirimay remembered that event with pain for the rest of her days, the day when she cried so much she thought she would never cease to cry. Maybe she was receptive to the Catholic faith later in life because she could not contemplate the idea of a wrathful deity who would demand the sacrifice of a young girl merely because she had fallen in love with a man who was not a prince.
II.Atahualpa
Several years later, the leader of the Mamakunas announced to all the acllas that Atahualpa was to appear in the acllahuasi to select a virgin of the Sun meant to be sacrificed to tata Inti in order to seek aid in a projected battle against his half-brother Huascar. While their father Huayna Capac was on his deathbed, he had bequeathed the northern part of the Tahuantinsuyo – the region around Quito, which was about a fifth of the empire – to his favorite son Atahualpa and the southern part – the remaining four-fifths of the empire including Cusco – to his eldest son Huascar. By doing so, Huayna Capac effectively split the Tahuantinsuyo into two independent reigns. His firstborn son Ninan Cuyoshi had succumbed to smallpox at the same time Huayna Capac died so the choice as to who would rule the empire came down to only Atahualpa and Huascar. Huayna Capac decided to grant Atahualpa control of Chincha Suyo and Andesuyo while Huascar was granted the much larger Colla Suyo and Conti Suyo. For about two years, Atahualpa and Huascar had achieved a modus vivendi of sorts with respect to the division of the empire and neither interfered in the domains of the other. But my Cuxirimay advised me that Huascar became greedy and was increasingly afraid his brother Atahualpa would seek control of the entire Inca empire so he formed a vast army to seek control of Quito in a pre-emptive strike. Learning such news, Atahualpa, with his generals Quizquiz, Chalcuchimac and Rumiñahue at his side, decided to declare war against his brother Huascar but felt he needed providential aid to succeed in his endeavors. By the time of his visit to the acllahuasi, Atahualpa was already plotting how he would subdue his brother. So the leading mamakuna selected the twenty most beautiful of the virgins of the Sun so that Atahualpa could choose the one he meant to sacrifice to his father the Sun in order to gain victory in the coming battle. Of course Cuxirimay was among that number, for none of the other virgins rivaled her in intelligence or beauty.
As soon as the aclla Chasca Yupanqui heard the news, she hastened to Cuxirimay’s living quarters and urgently advised her friend to rub hot blistering peppers on her face so that it would become swollen and disfigured by the time Atahualpa arrived. Otherwise, said Chasca, it was almost certain that the Inca prince would choose to sacrifice Cuxirimay to Father Sun. But Cuxirimay would have nothing of it. She had no intention of concealing her loveliness since she had her own plans regarding the projected meeting with Atahualpa. Rather than seeking to play down her beauty, she decided to emphasize it all the more. So she dressed in a tight-fitting tunic richly embroidered with emeralds and rubies and wore a garland of roses on her head, hoping that Atahualpa would choose her not as a sacrificial victim but as his Coya. It was a bold gamble, but she was not about to lose an opportunity to seduce Atahualpa with her charms once it arose.
Atahualpa arrived on a litter carried by six men, dressed in regal splendor, wearing the maskaypacha, an ornamental tassel of loosely hanging threads adorned with feathers which denoted him as the Sapa Inca, leader of the Tahuantinsuyo, although at the time he only controlled a small fraction of the empire. He also wore a collar of large engraved peanuts, half of them in gold to represent the sweat of the Sun and half of them in silver to represent the Moon’s tears. In addition, he held a golden scepter encrusted with fine gems, another symbol of his rule of the empire of the Sun, which was contested by his brother Huascar. He was not an ugly man, but neither was he exceptionally handsome as the myths would have it although his imperial raiment made up for any lack of beauty. My Cuxirimay was always attracted by powerful men and Atahualpa promised to reign over the entire Inca empire. So as soon as Atahualpa descended from his litter, my Cuxirimay boldly approached him.
“Hail, Sapa Inca,” she exclaimed. “May your projected war against Huascar the usurper be blessed by the Sun-god Inti and result in a resounding victory.”
“What is your name?” asked Atahualpa. He had immediately been struck by her almost preternatural beauty and thought she might be the right choice for the high priests’ tumis.
“I am Cuxirimay, niece of your deceased father Huayna Capac. When I was born, he declared that I would be your Coya. I proudly tell you that I am destined to be your principal wife, your pivihuarmi. It is written in the stars.”
“I am not here to choose a wife,” responded Atahualpa in a solemn voice. “I am looking for a virgin of the Sun to be sacrificed in order to gain the Sun’s protection. I am looking to sacrifice the most lovely virgin I can find and you certainly fit that description. Tell me, Cuxirimay, do you want to live with the Sun at hanaq pacha?”
Cuxirimay was bold, almost impudent. Rather than cowering at his words, she moved all the closer to him, so close that he could smell her sweet woman’s breath and the flowers upon her head.
“Why sacrifice me to the Sun when you can make me your own, your lordship Atahualpa? Together we can delight in each other and jointly arrive at the moment of yuquypi aypay, a pleasure like no other. Tell me, Sapa Inca, are you man enough to allow me to share your bed? Can you lead a woman to the heights of joy or are you a coward when it comes to physical love?”
Atahualpa was flustered. He was certainly attracted to Cuxirimay and remembered his father Huayna Capac’s pledge that Cuxirimay would be his Coya. But he had come to the acllahuasi to find a sacrificial victim, not a lover. Before he could respond, however, Cuxirimay took him by both hands and pressed them against her chest. Atahualpa felt a sudden frisson of desire when he touched the woman’s soft, round breasts and momentarily forgot his intentions to find a virgin to be sacrificed to the Sun.
“I promise if you take me that I shall love you like no other woman can,” promised Cuxirimay to better ensnare her prey. “I shall give you so many children that your descendants shall be as grains of sand upon a beach. And I shall be your advisor as well as your Coya. I shall be at your side when you fight and defeat Huascar. Sometimes a woman knows things of war which a man will never understand. I know that the fate of your empire shall be decided at Cajamarca. I have it from a high priestess, who knows how to read the stars, that you shall face victory or doom in that city.”
“What else has this high priestess told you?”
“She told me you shall defeat your brother Huascar in battle and that you shall rule over the entire Tahuantinsuyo. After all, your name means victorious in war.”
“If I shall vanquish Huascar in battle, how is it possible that I may face my doom at Cajamarca?”
“That the high priestess did not tell me.”
“You are a woman of many gifts,” said Atahualpa. “Surely my father was correct when he chose you to be my Coya. You should leave the acllahuasi with me today so that we may live together for a month before deciding on marriage as is the custom. Now let’s see which of these other women wishes to be the Sun-god’s victim.”
After their wedding, Cuxirimay was considered a deity just like her husband.
She was a daughter of the Moon just like Atahualpa was son of the Sun. And suddenly Cuxirimay realized that she had more power than she had ever imagined.
***
Six months after the wedding, the tide of war took an unexpected turn as Atahualpa and Cuxirimay were both captured and imprisoned by Huascar’s forces during the battle at Tumebamba, a city only three hundred and sixty kilometers from Quito which Huayna Capac had designated as the second most important city of the Inca empire after having been born in the town himself. Atahualpa couldn’t understand how it could possibly have happened. He had an army of sixty-thousand warriors and his generals were following Huascar’s soldiers in hot pursuit, with the intention of chasing them all the way to Cusco, where Huascar had his base. But at some point, Atahualpa’s soldiers found themselves in a narrow valley between the mountains and realized they were completely surrounded by Huascar’s infantry. Huascar’s men were hurling huge stones toward Atahualpa’s troops from the mountains, crushing them in droves. Hand-to-hand combat soon followed, with each army using their arrows, slingshots and huaracas against each other. The open field became a sea of blood and there were cadavers everywhere. Finally, Atahualpa, his army decimated, was unable to prevent his capture and thought briefly of swallowing the bitter tec tec which Cuxirimay always carried in a small pouch hidden in a pocket of her dress. Atahualpa knew she took it with her whenever she joined him in battle just in case suicide became the only alternative to torture.
Atahualpa and Cuxirimay were soon escorted to the temple of the Sun at Tumebamba. Atahualpa knew the temple well, as it was his father Huayna Capac who had built it with the intention of making it as luxurious as the Cori Cancha of Cusco, large as the Vatican. Before being locked up, Atahualpa and Cuxirimay were taken to the central room of the temple, decorated with golden frogs, golden snakes, golden fowl, and a huge image of a golden Sun in bas-relief with serpents representing the Sun-god’s rays. Cuxirimay prayed to her alter ego the moon-mother Quilla as her husband chafed in near despair. He was sure that his brother, once having incarcerated him, would not hesitate to order that he be strangled. Atahualpa and his wife were guarded by a single man inside the temple while a horde of Huascar’s soldiers congregated outside it. Soon Atahualpa and Cuxirimay were imprisoned in separate rooms, each protected by a wooden bar on the outside of the door which made it impossible to escape. Cuxirimay realized that the twentyish warrior who was separating her from Atahualpa seemed to be taken by her beauty and looked at her with eyes of unbridled lust. That gave her an idea. Perhaps her reign could still be saved! So when the young guard began to loosen the ropes that bound her, she began the process of seduction. Even though she had long been a virgin of the Sun, she had learned early on that beauty was a mighty weapon in a woman’s arsenal against men.
“You must be such a valiant warrior,” Cuxirimay told her twenty-year-old guard once she was untied, “to be given the task of securing Atahualpa. I can tell from your physique that you’re a strong and powerful man, well-muscled and battle-hardened.”
Then she put both hands on his face and softly purred, “You must be accustomed to seducing virgins.”
The man was momentarily startled by her words as well as the expression on her face and the sinuous movement of her body. Did she realize that he desired her? Could it be that she desired him as well? When she touched his face, he thought of taking her that very moment. But they were in the Temple of the Sun and he knew that sexual relations within the temple were verboten.
“Well, that will be all,” he said. “I shall be back at six to bring your dinner.”
Then Cuxirimay suddenly gave him a full-throated kiss.
“You realize you can have me if you want,” Cuxirimay said in a voice full of a false fervor. “You can have me right here and now if you so desire it.”
“You don’t understand,” he said as he tried to get away from her embrace. “We’re in the Temple of the Sun. I could be hanged if I succumb to passion here. I don’t want to dishonor our father the Sun and provoke his fury. You know that men are executed merely for making love to their own wives during the festival of Inti Raymi. And ever since the days of the Inca Pachacutec those caught making love with married women are habitually strangled. The adulterous woman, on the other hand, is stoned so you’re risking your life as well.”
Cuxirimay looked at him with the eyes of a doe which could also be those of a jaguar.
“Well, I suppose you’re not the man I thought you were. You’re nothing more than a coward. How could we be caught if you’re the only man inside the Temple? What sort of man rejects a woman he desires out of foolish fear? And I can tell you feel lust for me simply by seeing the way you look at me. Be bold. Be impudent. The Sun-god Inti will not touch us. Show me that you’re worthy of the passion you’ve aroused in the heart of a woman.”
Suddenly the young guard pulled her close to his chest, kissed her hard and began to disrobe her.
“I am not a coward,” he remonstrated. “I will not reject the love of a ñusta.”,
“I’m not a simple ñusta,” Cuxirimay said as she violently took off his tunic. “You’ll be making love to the Coya.”
“I don’t consider Atahualpa the Sapa Inca. He no longer wears the regal mascapaycha. I am devoted to his brother Huascar. As such, I don’t consider you the Coya.”
“Oh, what does it matter? Are you going to waste your time talking about palace politics or will you be leading a woman to yuquypi aypay?”
“I have never been with a woman. I’m not sure I have the skills to bring you to the heights of ecstasy.”
After they made love, Cuxirimay feigned a false affection for her new lover and curled up in his arms. As he had predicted, he was unable to bring her to jouissance. How could he? She detested and felt a deep repugnance for the man, only consorted with him because she wanted to be liberated.
“Come back at eight tonight for some more loving,” commanded Cuxirimay. “And don’t forget to bring some chicha with you. That sacred drink shall enhance our union. I can tell that you’re somewhat nervous. The chicha will let you relax.”
“The drink of the gods?” echoed the young guard.
“Yes, the sacred drink of the Sun,” responded Cuxirimay without a hint of shame.
That night the young guard came back to the room where Cuxirimay was sequestered bringing with him a pitcher full of chicha and two golden cups. While the young guard wasn’t looking, she poured out the contents of her small pouch into his cup. The man began to drink the chicha with mirth, anticipating a night of love. Cuxirimay just waited for the poison to take effect. What makes tec tec especially dangerous is that it doesn’t have a taste or odor, so you can be exposed to it without knowing it. Soon the guard began to feel all the effects of the poison. He felt a severe abdominal pain and felt all his muscles cramp. Then he started to vomit at the same time he was beset by explosive diarrhea. It did not take long for the man to die. Cuxirimay left the room and hastened to liberate Atahualpa, who was surprised by her presence without measure.
“How did you get the past the bar lock?” Atahualpa asked. “And what of the guard who was keeping you imprisoned?”
“It doesn’t matter how I did it,” responded Cuxirimay. “What matters is that I did it. Now make haste. All the guards are congregated at the front of the temple but there is an exit on its other side which is unguarded.”
The two absconded into the night until they found refuge in a tambo manned by Atahualpa’s chasquis, those who carried his messages throughout the empire. Thereafter Huascar would never again best Atahualpa in battle. Not for the last time, Cuxirimay had used her body as a weapon of war.
I’m not sure my Cuxirimay engaged in such an elaborate charade because she wanted to save her husband Atahualpa or whether she did so because she could not bear a life without being Coya. After all, what most delighted her among the Inca ceremonies was the feast of the month of coya raymi quilla, when she – the Coya – was celebrated for thirty days along with the Moon her mother. When my Cuxirimay told me the tale of her escape, I did not dare to ask her if she had made love to another man because she actually loved Atahualpa and wanted to save him or whether she had slept with another man to protect her status as the Coya. I didn’t want to hear the answer as it might mean that she had also married me for her own reasons, without feeling any love or passion for me. Sometimes I feared that she only married me to use me as her scribe, the one who could preserve the history of her quechua peoples. But if that is what she wanted, that is what I shall do.
***
Once Atahualpa returned to battle with an army of sixty thousand men, he quickly won a string of victories against his half-brother Huascar, pushing him farther and farther south. Atahualpa’s soldiers defeated Huascar’s forces at Bonbon, Jauja, Vilcas, Pincos, Andagayias, Curaguaci, Auncay, Mullihambato, Chimborazo and Quipaipan. seeping the entire Tahuantinsuyo in a river of blood, with more than a hundred thousand corpses strewn throughout the empire, many of them decapitated and dismembered. Finally, Atahualpa’s forces routed Huascar at Limatambo, only thirty kilometers away from Cusco, and Huascar was forced to seek refuge in Ichubamba. At that point, Atahualpa made plans for the final battle: the siege of Cusco, capital of Huascar’s empire. While staying at Cajamarca, Atahualpa sent his generals Quizquiz and Chalcuchimac to finish the war and take over Cusco. The generals were successful and soon they sent a chasqui to Atahualpa announcing that the battle had been won and that Huascar had been captured. Atahualpa remembered Cuxirimay’s prediction that he would either meet with victory or doom at Cajamarca and slept in peace, knowing that he had won the great fratricidal war and thinking he no longer had any reason to worry.
But Cuxirimay was not so sure.
“I’ve spoken with a high priestess who knows how to read the stars. She warned me that a pachakutic is on the horizon, a complete reversal of the cosmic order. That can only mean one thing, that you’ll be replaced as the master of the Tahuantinsuyo. You shall cease wearing the maskaypacha of the Sapa Inca and I shall cease to be the Coya. I think you must have Huascar killed, along with all of his progeny. Otherwise, prepare to be cast out of power and assassinated by Huascar’s men yourself.”
“Those are your woman’s fears. I’ve read the quipu sent to me by General Quizquiz and he tells me Huascar’s army was annihilated at Quipaipa, only a short distance from Cusco, and the city of the Sun is firmly under my generals’ control. He also reports that he purged the city of Huascar’s men in a massacre the likes of which has never been previously seen in the land of the Incas. I don’t think my father Huayna Capac would be pleased if I killed my own brother after he has already been decisively defeated in battle. It is one thing to kill in the midst of a war, quite another to assassinate your captive brother. Have you considered that the pachacutik which you so fear might be the Sun’s punishment for having the perfidy of strangling my defenseless brother? So I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I shall order Quizquiz to imprison Huascar far from whatever is left of his troops, which number no more than a few thousand men and are hundreds of leagues away, a tiny group when compared to the forty thousand men which protect me in Cajamarca. Don’t worry about pachacutics or disasters as the war is over. Sometimes the prophecies of amautas turn out to be false. I shall let Huascar live.”
“You’re making this decision at your own risk,” responded Cuxirimay. “Since when have you had scruples when it comes to matters of war? After all, your troops routinely kill captives, even extracting their hearts with your golden tumis and then forcing the men of their panaca to eat them. When you raze a town, you do not spare old men, women or children. And as far as killing Huascar, haven’t your generals Calcuchima and Quizquiz already executed all of his wives, allies, mother, wives and concubines?”
“I’ve made my decision,” responded Atahualpa.
A few moons before the day of terror, two chasquis arrived, bearing various gifts from men they described as having hair on their faces and bodies made of steel which made them indestructible.
“How many men are we talking about?”
“About one hundred and fifty, as well as about seventy of their savage beasts.”
“I should say, then, that we have no cause to worry.”
Cuxirimay did not realize that the chasqui’s words were the announcement of the dreaded Pachacutik, the cosmic reversal, the cyclical turn. And since it was written in the stars, there was nothing Atahualpa or Cuxirimay could do about it. The only thing Cuxirimay had not understood was that the doom for Atahualpa would not come from his brother Huascar but from an illiterate Spanish swineherd with outsized dreams for gold and glory named Francisco Pizarro.
III. Pizarro
The first of Atahualpa’s subjects to directly deal with Pizarro and his men was a tall, dark-skinned man named Ciquinchara. Hernando de Soto, one of the most storied soldiers in Pizarro’s army, met with him to seek a meeting between the Sapa Inca Atahualpa and Pizarro, called the Marquis by the other conquistadors despite his humble origins. Both de Soto and Ciquinchara feigned amity towards each other during their initial meeting and exchanged gifts, but in truth both saw each other as potential enemies. By then, Pizarro’s men were encamped in a valley close to the city of Cajamarca and were all living in a single wooden structure which they had hastily constructed. While Atahualpa and Cuxirimay were relaxing in the Inca’s thermal baths, Ciquinchara arrived to advise the Inca ruler that the men from across the hatun cocha – what the quechuas call the ocean – were not gods but vile, unscrupulous men that could not be trusted. Atahualpa had heard such rumors before, as he knew everything that happened throughout his empire through his chasquis. They had explained to him that the men with hair on their faces had looted many temples in a desperate search for gold and that they did not hesitate to wantonly kill captive Indians nor to rape the virgins of the Sun. Still, the Sapa Inca had his doubts and feared the foreigners were emissaries from Contiki Viracocha Pachayachachig bent on punishing him for his ruthless conduct during battle. Ciquinchara assured him that was not the case, that the men from beyond the hatun cocha were ordinary men, that they ate, slept, bled and defecated unlike the gods, but that they had powerful weapons never seen in the Tahuantinsuyo and enormous quadrupeds which had startled the sons of the Sun and made them take the men for gods. But the animals were not beasts sent by the supay, added Ciquinchara. They were all similar to the llamas, vicuñas and guanacos herded by the quechuas for centuries.
“They all sleep in a single dwelling,” continued Ciquinchara. “I want your permission to torch it. Those men have not come with good intentions but to enslave the runa llacta and to steal their gold, which they treasure above all else.”
Atahualpa paused to think, then gave a furtive glance at Cuxirimay, who was sitting at his side in rapt absorption.
“I’m not inclined to kill all of the men from across the hatun cocha at this time.”
“With all due respect, Sapa Inca,” said Cuxirimay, “you are greatly imperiling your rule. As Ciquinchara said, those men come with all sorts of diabolical weapons. I have heard that they can attack with great balls of fire that can demolish a wall or kill twenty people at a time. After all these years of battling Huascar and finally gaining the victory, don’t squander it all by ignoring the threat posed to our empire by the white men. I say incinerate them, burn them to the ground right now! Don’t give them the opportunity to attack us or the next Sapa Inca will not be your brother Huascar but the bearded puka kunka they call the Marquis.”
“I have said,” answered Atahualpa peremptorily, meaning he had expressed his opinion and would not allow himself to be dissuaded.
“I should tell you,” said Ciquinchara, “that the men with hair on their faces want to set up a meeting with you.”
“Set it up. I don’t want the bearded men to think I’m afraid of them. But tell them I am the master of all of the Tahuantinsuyo and expect to be treated with respect. Go ahead and prepare a meeting at Cajamarca’s central square. I shall fill it with three thousand of my best soldiers, and will have another thirty-thousand on alert, just in case the bearded men decide to pounce upon us.”
Hernando Pizarro and Hernando del Soto soon met with the Sapa Inca and confirmed that their Marquis Francisco Pizarro would like to sup with him to cement the friendship between their peoples. But what the Spaniards were planning was an ambush. Cuxirimay, as usual, was more perspicacious and warned her husband that the bearded men were setting a trap for him. He disregarded her words, thinking there was strength in numbers. The next day, confirming all of Cuxirimay’s worst fears, Cajamarca’s central plaza, which was surrounded by walls which made escape nearly impossible, suddenly exploded as Pizarro’s men attacked the Runas with the unremitting fury of their muskets and cannons. From the golden litter where she sat next to Atahualpa, Cuxirimay witnessed the massacre incredulously, not believing her own eyes and feeling a sense of vertigo as if she was looking down from a great height. Although the plaza was filled by three-thousand Runas, they failed to protect the Sapa Inca as they scattered as soon as they heard the boom of Pedro de Candia’s cannons and saw the bearded men on their infernal beasts methodically using their swords to cut off the heads of the defenseless Indians. Seeing the natives inside the plaza desperately trying to escape and hearing the sound of the unrelenting cannons, the thirty thousand soldiers amassed outside the square decided to flee and disappeared into the night. Soon a group of Spaniards on foot, felling Indians with their weapons right and left, approached the litter where Atahualpa was standing next to the weeping Cuxirimay and forced it to the ground after cutting off the hands of the Inca soldiers who were suicidally defending it with only their bodies. One of Pizarro’s men unsheathed his sword to finish off Atahualpa, but suddenly the Marquis appeared and stopped the man in his tracks. Pizarro did not want Atahualpa killed because he did not want another Inca to rise to the throne. He had already decided what to do once the doomed Sapa Inca was his captive. In one fell swoop, a hundred and fifty men had captured an empire of five million people and had not lost a single Spaniard in the process. Cuxirimay wept for herself and for her people. Never again would she be hailed, feared and respected as the Coya. Never again would the Tahuantinsuyo belong to the quechuas. She took the pouch of tec tec which she had in her pouch at all times and swallowed the tasteless poison.
***
It may be difficult to understand how Cuxirimay became Pizarro’s lover after what he did to her legitimate husband, but it is not incomprehensible if you understand the traditions of the Inca peoples. For them, war was like a game of chess – a game to which Atahualpa became quite an aficionado during his captivity, by the way. For the quechua natives, the capture of the king meant that the game was over. Once the Sapa Inca was imprisoned, all the other players were rendered useless – the knights, the pawns, the priests. In fact, many Indians were sure that Atahualpa would soon be dead, strangled like the caciques captured by Atahualpa. That is what explains why eighty thousand Inca warriors did not engage in battle to free the captive Atahualpa. And as in a game of chess, the most powerful piece – the queen, the coya – could do nothing once the king was caught. All the queen could do was submit to the victor and grit her teeth. I know some say Cuxirimay was raped by the lustful Pizarro, but my Cuxirimay told me that she was not. She willingly bedded Pizarro knowing she was part of the spoils of war and that her fate had been decided by the gods or, better said, by the God of the Spaniards. As far as the sixtyish Spanish conqueror, he quickly fell in love with the lovely Cuxirimay, for there was not another woman in Spain or the Indies who attracted him as fiercely.
Pizarro was at Atahualpa’s side next to Cuxirimay during her convalescence. Although she was on the verge of death for over a week as a result of the poison she had taken, the Indians knew of a powerful antidote which the Spaniards came to call yerba buena and which led to her gradual but complete recovery. While she lay on a bed for the first time – Pizarro had provided her with a mattress so she could sleep in comfort – the grizzled Spanish conquistador marveled at her beauty and dreamed of making her his own. Once she was fully healed, Pizarro made a proposal to Atahualpa which the deposed Sapa Inca felt forced to accept. After all, his freedom was in play, the entire Tahuantinsuyo was in play.
Atahualpa, realizing Pizarro’s lust for gold, offered to fill a room twenty-five feet in length and fifteen feet in width, up to the height of his head, as well as another two rooms filled with silver, under one condition. Pizarro had to agree to spare his life and grant him his liberty. Pizarro’s eyes lit up brightly as he heard the offer and felt inclined to instantly accept it as such an amount of gold would be worth many millions of pesos in Madrid. But he knew how desperate Atahualpa was to return to his throne so he added a condition. The grizzled conquistador would grant the quechua man his freedom if he provided the gold and silver he had promised and granted him another favor. Pizarro wanted Cuxirimay. After all, it was commonplace among the quechua peoples for those who were vanquished in battle to turn over their wives to their opponents. Atahualpa, sensing that he was cornered, knew that he could not refuse the offer, since Pizarro could simply rape Cuxirimay if the proposal was rejected and kill him to boot. And yet he knew the ravenous Pizarro desperately wanted the massive amount of gold and silver Atahualpa had promised as it would make the conquistador the richest man in all of Spain. So Atahualpa told Pizarro that he could have Cuxirimay but only after he was freed and allowed to return to the throne. In his heart of hearts, Atahualpa had the secret intention of battling Pizarro once again after he was liberated. He would then reclaim Cuxirimay as his own. But Atahualpa thought Cuxirimay would chafe at having to accept the indignity of sharing a bed with the hated Spaniard as a new war raged. Instead, unbeknown to her husband, she accepted it with a grudging resignation even before the room was filled with gold or any battles were fought.
Soon the chasquis arrived from every corner of the Tahuantinsuyo bringing more and more gold in every shape and form – images of the gods, of Inti the Sun, of a myriad animals, of deceased Sapa Incas, of maize and peanuts, of flowers and idols, of the Moon and stars. The greedy Spaniards did not care about the beauty of the pieces and had them all melted down into gold ingots they could easily transport to mother Spain. Pizarro complained to Atahualpa that it was taking too long for the room in Cajamarca to be filled with gold, and wondered whether it was even possible to do so, but Atahualpa explained that the llamas and vicuñas used to transport it were not as fast as the Spaniards’ horses and that he would just have to wait. Pizarro decided to send three of his men on litters carried by black slaves to the city of Cusco to retrieve more gold and they returned with two-hundred Indians carrying gold and silver on their backs. Meanwhile, without telling Pizarro a few of his men plotted to kill Atahualpa once the full ransom was turned over. Pizarro’s intention at the time was to send Atahualpa to Spain, where he would become a vassal of Emperor Charles V or to return him to Quito, where he could be governor under the direction of Pizarro if he agreed to be baptized first. But Cuxirimay, a better reader of people’s intentions than Atahualpa or Pizarro, had no doubt that ultimately her husband would be killed by one or another of the Spaniards even if not at the orders of Pizarro. So she decided to act.
It did not take long for Cuxirimay to realize the leader of the Spaniards longed for her and she decided to use it to advantage. She still loved Atahualpa in her own way – a sa façon as they say in French – but she no longer loved him as when he was the most powerful man in the Tahuantinsuyo. She considered his inability to prevail during the massacre at Cajamarca an abject failure and had ceased to respect him or even call him Sapa Inca, given that he no longer wore the mascapaycha or had any willing subjects. She had heard that thousands of Indians all over the empire had cheered when they saw the Spanish victors on their horses, either because they were partial to Huascar or because they were afraid of the men with beards. She decided to seduce the sixtyish Pizarro even though he was already married to her cousin Quispesisa, baptized by the white men with the name Ines Yupanqui Huaylas. Forgive me, my Spanish readers, if I fail to describe my Cuxirimay’s treachery against her husband Atahualpa in any detail for it pains me to this day. Suffice it to say that through the expression on her face – Cuxirimay spoke not a whit of Spanish at the time – she conveyed to Pizarro that he could have her if he wanted her, but told him through an interpreter that it would be only under one condition, that he agree to make her his coya. When he objected that he was already married to Quispepisa – given to him by Atahualpa as a gift a few days after the massacre – she responded by asking as she feigned surprise, “Do you find her as lovely as me?” Then she added, as if it went without saying, that as the new ruler of the Tahuantinsuyo – she used the words Sapa Inca to describe him – he was entitled to have multiple wives but only one coya. In truth, she found the gray-haired sexagenarian physically repugnant but he had something Atahualpa would never have again: he had power.
***
Soon after Pizarro and Cuxirimay became lovers, the grizzled Spaniard required that the young Inca woman be baptized. That was one of the strange quirks of the men with hair on their faces, thought Cuxirimay, that they taught the ñustas about sin, forced them to be baptized and then proceeded to debauch them. So Cuxirimay went through the motions, water was poured on her head and at Pizarro’s prodding she took on the name Doña Angelina Yupanqui as the Spaniard thought she was an angelic being. Truth be told, by then she had very little faith in the Inca gods, even the Sun-god Inti, for he had not protected the quechua peoples from the Christian God or from the Catholic goddess whom Pizarro called Our Lady of Victory. Still, Cuxirimay demanded that Pizarro marry her in a ceremony celebrated by an Inca priest, since they could not marry in a Catholic Church given Pizarro’s prior wedding to her cousin Ines Yupanqui Huaylas. The aging conquistador was so smitten with Cuxirimay that he could not deny any of her requests and so he consented to participate in a pagan wedding even though he thought it was a mortal sin to do so.
Soon Cuxirimay realized that the aging Spaniard would do whatever she asked for, lest she withdraw her favors. He moved her to a palatial room in his headquarters at Cajamarca, much more sumptuous than the one assigned to the captive Atahualpa, and acceded to her request that a dozen ñustas attend to her at all times. She once again was allowed to dress like a member of the Inca nobility, with elegant robes laced with golden threads and encrusted with emeralds and pearls. She demanded that her room be filled with mirrors so she could bask in her own beauty and only consented to the act of love when she was in the mood to do so, which happened seldom. They kept communicating through Pizarro’s interpreter Felipillo, the only man who knew of their reckless romance, but that would prove to be a mistake. Soon the Indian lengua insinuated that unless Cuxirimay became his lover too, he would disclose everything to Atahualpa. She reluctantly acceded, feeling an intense repugnance at the idea of consorting with a mere servant. She now had two husbands and was cuckolding the two of them at the same time while she lived with both of them in the same palace.
At some point, Pizarro confided to Cuxirimay that he had ordered that Atahualpa’s brother Huascar be brought to Cajamarca from Cusco to determine whether he or Atahualpa was the rightful Sapa Inca. Cuxirimay correctly divined that at the time Pizarro had no intention to murder either brother and was thinking that one of them would continue as governor of the Tahuantinsuyo under the tutelage of Pizarro and Emperor Charles V. In truth, Pizarro had developed a grudging respect for his Inca captive and an affection of sorts. Just like Herod had enjoyed hearing the tales of his captive John the Baptist, Pizarro delighted in hearing Atahualpa’s stories about the history of the Inca empire, especially the Inca’s reminiscences about all the battles to expand his empire he had fought under the direction of his father Huayna Capac. Pizarro, proud of his own prowess in war, thought he had found an equal in Atahualpa.
Cuxirimay, thinking she might be the Coya of the Tahuantinsuyo once again, immediately conveyed Pizarro’s plans to Atahualpa. She felt no allegiance to Pizarro, often contemptuously calling him el porquerizo – the swineherd – given the work he did in Spain before he came to the Indies. But she advised Atahualpa that this time he had to be ruthless and the first thing he had to do was order the execution of his brother Huascar. Otherwise it was possible that Pizarro would conclude that Huascar instead of Atahualpa was the rightful Sapa Inca. This time Atahualpa did not reject his wife’s advice. Through one of Cuxirimay’s ñustas, Atahualpa sent the message to one of his chasquis. Huascar had to be killed before he ever reached Cajamarca. The news arrived within a week. Huascar had been despeñado at Andamarca, thrown off a cliff. That night Cuxirimay celebrated with her husband Atahualpa, and made love to him after months without doing so. The empire of the Sun might still be theirs! thought Cuxirimay.
Unfortunately for Atahualpa, Diego de Almagro the one-eyed man – he had lost an eye in an ancient battle with certain natives – arrived in Cajamarca and demanded that Atahualpa be brought to justice for the murder of his brother Huascar. After all, the Inca had already filled the room with gold as he had promised so there was no reason to delay. He also reminded Pizarro how Atahualpa had thrown a Bible to the ground when Father Valverde had given it to him as a means to draw him to the faith. Surely such an action merited the penalty of death. But Pizarro was not convinced. He had uttered a solemn oath to liberate Atahualpa once the massive ransom had been paid and felt serious qualms about reneging on a promise made in the name of God. All of his men agreed with Almagro, however, except Hernando de Soto. When Pizarro conferred with Father Valverde, the priest told him Atahualpa merited execution not only for killing Huascar and disrespecting the Catholic Bible but also for all the atrocities he had committed during the course of battle. Never mind that the Spaniards, under the banner of Our Lady of Victory, had committed atrocities just as heinous. Francisco Pizarro, ashen-faced, reluctantly consented. On the day of his execution, Atahualpa was given one last chance to adopt the Catholic faith – for months he had refused to be baptized – and finally gave in. The Sun was a creature of the Spanish God and there was no way to deny it.
After Atahualpa was killed, a dozen of his wives and concubines asked to be buried with him. Not so Cuxirimay. Henceforth she would live with Pizarro el porquerizo as his wife regardless of the fact that she detested him and felt reluctance for his frail old man’s figure and his achaques de viejo.
And Pizarro wept bitterly at the death of Atahualpa for he had learned to love the man.
IV. Betanzos
I first met Cuxirimay at the Palacio de Gobierno in Lima where she resided with her husband Governor Pizarro, the same government palace now occupied by Viceroy Antonio de Mendoza. At the time she was known as Doña Angelina Yupanqui, although mostly she was addressed as la Marquesa. Despite the fact she had not married Pizarro in a Catholic ceremony, she was recognized as the Marquis’s only consort and so was given the title of marquise. She was famous for her incomparable beauty as well as her great wealth, for she spent her husband’s money as if it were her own and would never end. Although she now dressed like a Spaniard rather than an Inca coya, she was still the most elegant woman in town, habitually wearing silk robes imported from Seville and the most expensive jewelry. She was also known for her great generosity, spending a fortune to aid poor Indians in need of medical care and helping members of the Inca nobility who had come to ruin.
During the soiree at the Governor’s Palace, I met with a great number of conquistadors who had participated in the conquest of the Tahuantinsuyo. I was eager to talk to them for I had already begun writing my Narrative of the Incas and thought their testimony would be very useful, but it was Doña Angelina Yupanqui with whom I was most interested in speaking. Given that she had been the lover of the two greatest protagonists in the downfall of the empire, there was no one else who could provide me more useful information. Also, I was writing my narrative in two parts. The first had to do with the history of the Incanato – the quechua empire – and the second had to do with the conquest of Peru. Only my Cuxirimay could give me information on both subjects so I sought her out.
By that time, Pizarro was known as the greatest cornudo in Lima, if not the greatest cuckold in all Peru. My Cuxirimay took on lovers and abandoned them with the frequency with which other women change their clothes. I didn’t know it at the time, but later on, once we had started our own relationship, she confided that she meant to punish white men through her conduct and used her sexuality as a weapon of revenge. She delighted in ensnaring Spanish men with her loveliness and shapely figure, using them for a while, and then severing the relationship when the luckless Iberians were in the throes of love. Governor Pizarro must have known about it, since my Cuxirimay didn’t even cover her face like a tapada when she went on her lovers’ trysts, but the seventy-year-old was satisfied with the crumbs of love she gave him. When anyone began to talk to him about his wife’s adulterous behavior, he nipped the conversation in the bud. “I am not interested in scurrilous gossip,” he declared. “I care about what happens in the Palace and nowhere else. Doña Angelina does everything that is needed as the mistress of the Palace and has never besmirched it through her conduct. Whatever happens outside of the Palace is not my business but her own.”
When I first approached Cuxirimay, she was standing next to Pizarro, who immediately introduced me to her with effusive praise.
“This is the great Scribe,” he said. “He’s famous for his Doctrina Cristiana and for having produced two dictionaries explaining quechua words in Spanish.”
“So you speak quechua?” asked my Cuxirimay.
“Enough to ask folks for information about the Inca empire and to write a little tract about their history and customs.”
“I’d be interested in seeing it,” said my Cuxirimay. “I’ve learned to read Spanish given all the years I’ve spent among the mistis.”
“Well, I’ll be going,” said Pizarro. “I need to mingle with the folks. You two keep chatting. It seems you have some common interests.”
I was surprised that Pizarro didn’t seem even a little jealous when he left the two of us alone. I was a younger man than him and more than one woman has called me handsome. Perhaps he thought that as a man of letters I would be of no interest to Cuxirimay. Perhaps he believed that my Cuxirimay was only attracted to men in power, generals, kings and knights.
“Listen,” I said as soon as Pizarro had departed, “my work is just at an incipient stage, mostly a bunch of disorganized notes. I’d love to hear the history of the Incas from your perspective. And given your relationships with Atahualpa and the marquis Pizarro, who could better explain the Conquest to me?”
“So you know about me and Atahualpa?”
“Everybody does. And few persons were as close to him as you were. Any information you provide would be invaluable to my research.”
“Do you know the names of all the Sapa Incas beginning with Manco Capac? Do you know at least that?”
“Well, let’s see. I think I can list all of them. Manco Capac first, Sinchi Roca next, then Lloque Yupanqui, followed by Mayta Capac, Yupanqui Capac, Inca Roca, then Yahuar Huacac, Huiracocha Inca, the great Pachacutic, Amaru Inca Yupanqui, Tupac Inca Yupanqui, Huayna Capac, and finally your cousins Huascar and Atahualpa. And I’ve collected numerous oral histories which I mean to record in writing so that they will not be forgotten with time.”
Cuxirimay’s eyes suddenly turned bright.
“That sounds like a marvelous proposition, mister Scribe. So few limeños know anything about the quechua peoples. The white men on the coast think that all the Incas lived in huts and know nothing about their culture. They need to know about the magnificent temples and palaces, the developed government system, the acllas of the Sun.”
“My name is Juan Betanzos by the way. Do you think we could meet from time to time to work jointly on my little screed?”
“Sure, we could meet three times a week for as many hours as you like. There is so much I need to tell you. We cannot meet at the Palace though. My husband doesn’t allow me to meet male visitors here.”
Then she added with a mischievous look. “He thinks I might be doing something naughty behind his back in his own abode.”
“Whatever we can do in the Palace we could do more easily in other places,” I responded with a laugh.
“Indeed,” she said with a piquant smile. “Chalk it up to an old man’s quirks.”
***
Soon Cuxirimay and I began our meetings at a room I had rented near the Plaza de Armas at the Hotel Miraflores, a stone’s throw away from Governor Pizarro’s Palace. My Cuxirimay alternated between joy and melancholy during our multiple rendezvous – joy because she was helping to preserve the history of the Inca peoples, melancholy because she realized the Inca empire was irrevocably lost. I won’t deny that I was powerfully attracted to her from the outset. Those who said she was the loveliest woman of all the Indies were not wrong, but I didn’t dare attempt to seduce her, since I realized that would be the death knell to my project. If we engaged in a sexual relationship, I knew it would not last long given my knowledge of her usual practice with Spaniards she took to bed. And I also knew that to get all the information I needed from Cuxirimay, I would have to spend many months, if not years, probing her mind during our meetings. As a virgin of the Sun, she had been provided with extensive information about the history of the Inca dynasty from the mamakunas. And as the partner of both Atahualpa and Pizarro, she had experienced a bird’s eye view of the Conquest that no other person had. So as soon as she arrived to our meetings, I took my feather quill pen and began to write my copious notes, without making the slightest insinuation of anything going beyond a professional relationship. I sensed that Cuxirimay derived a great satisfaction at knowing that a Spaniard like me recognized the wonders of the Empire of the Sun. She seemed to believe that no other peninsular gave a damn.
Soon Cuxirimay was giving me a tutorial on all things about the Tahuantinsuyo – not only the history of its never-ending wars and of its powerful Sapa Incas ever trying to expand the empire, but also the history of its common men and women. She taught me about their huge annual harvests of maize and potatoes, the festivals of the Sun and Moon in which they so delighted, the funeral dirges they played on their champollas and quenas, the rules they followed regarding marriage and sexuality, the gods and goddesses to whom they prayed… She told me not to emphasize the Incas’ brutal methods in war as they had been no more extreme than those of the Spaniards. She advised me not to focus on the Sapa Incas’ habits of concubinage, for the men with beards were no different when they encountered quechua women. She told me there was no need to write extensively about how the Incas sometimes sacrificed men and women to their gods, as the Spaniards had their Inquisition too. Write about their art, their poetry, their architecture, she commanded. Don’t fashion your story in such a way that they prove to be unruly savages as the narratives of some Catholic priests are wont to do.
Our relationship soon proved to be an asexual love affair, at least from my end. I looked forward to our meetings with expectation and delight, fell asleep thinking about her keen intelligence and unbridled beauty, dreamed about her night and day. With Cuxirimay you never knew. At least at first, I don’t know if you could say what she felt for me was love. But I do know this: what she felt for me was different to what she had felt for any other man. She fell in love – if love it can be called – with Atahualpa and Pizarro because of the great power which they wielded. With me, she was developing a relationship with a mere scribe, penniless and obscure. But despite my efforts to prevent it, our bodies did not long resist the imperatives of our souls. Our love – if love it can be called – developed from our shared passion for the Empire of the Sun and the Sun’s rays can never be avoided.
It all happened suddenly. Cuxirimay was standing behind me as I wrote, telling me about how the great Pachacutec had expanded the empire in the fourteenth century, when she inadvertently allowed her long black hair to fall upon my face. I closed my eyes and began to swoon, delighting in the aroma of her perfume. Then I nestled my head close to her neck and didn’t move, fighting the impulse to inhabit her completely. I fought off the temptation fiercely, continued to sit immobile on my chair. But she did nothing to break away. Instead, she moved closer to me, let her lips alight upon my cheeks. And then we kissed. It was a kiss that seemed to never end, lasting hours. I basked in her brown luminescent body and she delighted in my own. Our love – if love it can be called – began that afternoon and lasted for the duration of our lives.
***
Cuxirimay became increasingly bold with our relationship, many times spending the whole night with me and appearing at the Governor’s Palace only in the morning. She reported to me that Pizarro never complained nor castigated her for it, only insisted that she be with him at all government functions where her presence was required and at Mass on Sundays. He understood that she was a woman half his age and that he could not possibly satisfy her needs so he accepted her behavior with a muted resignation. I told Cuxirimay that it was time she abandon Pizarro and wed me. After all, she had not married the aging conquistador in a Christian wedding so there was no impediment to our getting married in a Catholic church. But my Cuxirimay was reluctant. She was deeply hesitant to give up all the perquisites of being the wife of the most powerful man in all Peru.
“I’m sorry,” Cuxirimay told me, “but I have no intention of ceasing to be la Marquesa and becoming an ordinary woman. I was born a coya and a coya I shall remain.”
Then she added something which surprised and pleased me to no end.
“Be content,” she said in a voice which was both peremptory and certain, “that I love you like I have never loved a man before. I no longer share my bed with el porquerizo and have been faithful to you ever since you took me as your own.”
“That’s all the more reason for you to sever your relationship with Pizarro and join me in a union sanctified by God.”
“It would be so much simpler,” she confided, “if el porquerizo would just die. Then I would continue to benefit from the status and the riches which would come with being Pizarro’s widow and could marry you, which is my heart’s desire. But I don’t have the courage to poison him and bad weed never dies.”
“If you loved me, truly loved me, you’d be willing to give up your position and your riches in order to share your life with me.”
“I can’t,” she said, as if it went without saying. “In this brave new world which is Spanish Peru, were it not for my union with Pizarro, I would be simply another Indian, denigrated by the Spaniards and disrespected by all.”
The months passed and we continued work on my history of the quechua empire. My Cuxirimay insisted that we first discuss the Incas’ ancient culture and their ruin at the hands of the Spaniards before we joined each other in bed. Truth be told, I made a lot of progress with my narrative about the Tahuantinsuyo during all those months. And yet I was the one thinking of ending my relationship with Cuxirimay. I simply could not abide the idea that she continued to be the consort of another man, even though she repeatedly assured me that they never laid together and that their union was a façade.
And then it happened. My Cuxirimay arrived at my room at the Hotel Miraflores with an expression on her face which betrayed joy and worry at the same time.
“You are going to be a father,” she said to me with a beaming smile. “Our act of love shall have its fruit. What do you suppose I say to el porquerizo?”
“Tell him the truth, Cuxirimay. Since you don’t share a bed with him, what else could you possibly do?”
My Cuxirimay turned to me with a picaresque smile on her face.
“I’m going to do it,” she announced. “I’ve thought about it long and hard for weeks. I’d much rather be the mother of your child than to be the richest coya. I’m going to tell Pizarro that I’m leaving him. We’ll baptize our child Juan Yupanqui if he’s a boy and Beatriz Yupanqui if she’s a girl. You and I together shall teach our child about the glory of the Inca empire. Tell me, Mister Scribe, are you happy now?”
“More than you can imagine,” I replied. “You must remember that I had never known a woman before I met you.”
“I intend to tell him right away and to leave the Palacio de Gobierno immediately. El porquerizo is going to be incensed. Not only will he lose me forever but he is going to be humiliated in front of all. I want you to be with me when I tell him. And bring your sword as a precaution. I’m afraid that he shall attempt to kill me to avenge his honor once I tell him that I’m departing from the Palace. Don’t forget that he’s a proud conquistador, a vainglorious man even in old age.”
“I know the man,” I said. “At some point in our lives we were close friends when I helped him with the translation of certain documents and as an interpreter when he dealt with the natives. Your departure is going to hit him hard. But I shall be at your side when you confess our love to him. Don’t be too afraid of his reaction. I’m sure he’s been expecting this moment for years. After all, you weren’t exactly a faithful wife, my Cuxirimay.”
“I shall be faithful to you forever,” she assured me as she stared intently into my eyes.
***
My Cuxirimay spent the night with me after she told me about her pregnancy and we engaged in the act of love like never before. After all, she had given me scandalously good news. Not only would we possess each other for the rest of our days, but our union would be blessed with the birth of a child who would be the fusion of both our beings. Since we tirelessly made love with each other during that marvelous evening, she woke up the next morning around eleven, uncertain of how she would approach the man she derisively called “the swineherd.” She prepared to go to Pizarro’s Palacio de Gobierno immediately in order to schedule a meeting with him in the afternoon. By the time she arrived at the Palace, however, the old conquistador was nowhere to be found. Around noon, Cuxirimay heard the calamitous news. A ñusta who worked for one of the men led by Diego Almagro el mozo – Diego Almagro the lad – came to the Palace and told Cuxirimay that the lad had decided to assassinate the Marquis. The lad sought vengeance against Pizarro since many years earlier Pizarro and his brothers had fought a war over the control of Cusco with Almagro el Viejo – Diego Almagro the old – and, having imprisoned him, proceeded to kill him with a garrote. Cuxirimay thought the incident had long since been forgotten, but the lad had nursed his hatred for Pizarro for years. Perhaps it did not help that the lad, born of a quechua mother, had learned about the destruction of the Incas by Pizarro at his mother’s breast. Pizarro could never have expected that after a dozen years he would be sought out by a ghost from the past, especially given that the lad had been a mere child during the fratricidal war for control of Cusco by the Spaniards which killed his father Almagro the old man.
When she learned the news, my Cuxirimay was faced with an existential tipping point, the instant in one’s life when the future and the past are forever riven asunder. She could have done nothing and let the assassination proceed or she could have taken action in an effort to prevent it. It would have been so easy to do nothing – the porquerizo would have been eliminated without any action of her own. She could have continued to use the title of Marquesa and to benefit from Pizarro’s riches while being my wife at the same time. On the other hand, allowing the execution to go forward without interfering would have been an act of manifest depravity. Rough and vulgar as he was, Pizarro had doted upon her for years, had spared no expense in his failed efforts to woo her, and had never denied her even the most extravagant of luxuries.
By that time, Cuxirimay had developed an incipient faith in Jesus and His mother. Like with many of the Inca peoples, hers was a syncretic faith. She identified the Spanish God with the sun God Inti and the Virgin Mary with Quilla the moon goddess. She didn’t see the Catholic religion as yet another imposition by the Spaniards as many other Indians were wont to do. She thought Christianity was a noble philosophy which checked the baser instincts of the peninsulares although they often honored their faith only in the breach. They preached that men and women should be chaste, but the rule was more often broken than observed. They taught the Inca peoples about the Fifth Commandment not to kill, yet it was only by killing the Indians in massive numbers that they were able to capture the vast Tahuantinsuyo. It would have been so different, thought Cuxirimay, if the Spaniards had only brought their religion to the Runas and otherwise let the Indians live in peace. Perhaps they could have generously shared some of their advanced technology with the quechua peoples, but instead the Spaniards upon encountering the natives thought only of gold and plunder, thinking nothing of their God’s Commandment not to steal.
Cuxirimay considered her decision carefully but realized she had little time to act. After a brief prayer, she decided to attempt to save the porquerizo and asked his secretary for his daily schedule. She was stunned by what she found. Pizarro’s brief notes referred to a one o’clock meeting at his summer home with Diego de Almagro the lad and a group of other men. The almagristas were planning to murder Pizarro in his own home! She immediately sent a message through one of her servants to Hernando Pizarro, the conquistador’s older brother, advising him of the plot and directing him to meet her at Pizarro’s mansion on a hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Then she enlisted three black guards to accompany her to Pizarro’s property armed with scimitars and arquebuses. She put on the pants of a man and rode on one of the conquistador’s best horses.
When she arrived at Pizarro’s living quarters, she found that Hernando Pizarro was already there and that el porquerizo was still alive, furiously parrying against the almagristas with his trusty Spanish sword nicknamed Angelina in honor of Cuxirimay. The lad had brought with him twenty almagristas and Hernando Pizarro had arrived with five men, armed only with swords. When Cuxirimay’s black guards began to fire their arquebuses, the almagristas quickly scattered, but not without first giving Francisco Pizarro a fatal blow to the head with one of their sabers. Cuxirimay sat at his side and began to weep, more out of shock than sadness, but her tears brought a measure of solace to the dying conquistador.
“It’s good to see,” he cried, “that you feel at least some pain upon the death of a man who has only loved you too much. Now you can marry Juan de Betanzos in peace. He’s a good man and will make you happy.”
“You know about Juan?”
“How could I not? You’ve been staying at his house at night for over a year. But I don’t recriminate you for it. You only became my own because of our vast disparity in power. Had I not been the conqueror of all Peru, you wouldn’t even have looked at me. Tell me, Angelina, will you ever forgive me?”
My Cuxirimay composed herself before telling the man the truth.
“I can forgive you for what you did to me,” she said in a pensive voice, “but never for what you did to my people.”
I cannot conceal the flood like emotions rushing towards the river of love
I was terrified, suspicious
When your poetic language flows into a Image
My whole body is like a ripe paddy
Whispering to you,，I know.
The sky will also bloom the color of the heart for us
I stood there at a loss
My heart has already flown far away
I heard birds singing love songs outside the window.
The light, obscured by night, once again traverses the wilderness
It’s like God’s saying what you said to me
I really felt it then
God has given me love that I cannot refuse.
I put on my pink satin pajamas
Stand in front of the mirror
And then I said to you..
Anna Keiko (China)
Anna Keiko, a distinguished poetess and essayist from Shanghai, China, has made a profound impact on contemporary literature. A graduate of Shanghai East China University with a Bachelor’s degree in Law, she has achieved global recognition for her poetry, which has been translated into more than 30 languages and published in over 500 journals, magazines, and media outlets across 40 countries. Keiko is the founder and chief editor of the ACC Shanghai Huifeng Literature Association and serves as a Chinese representative and director of the International Cultural Foundation Ithaca.
Her affiliations extend to Immagine & Poesia in Italy and the Canadian-Cuban Literary Union, reflecting her commitment to fostering cross-cultural literary exchanges. Her poetic oeuvre spans six collections, including “Lonely in the Blood and Absurd Language”, showcasing her exploration of human emotions, environmental concerns, and existential themes. Her innovative style and evocative imagery have earned her numerous accolades, such as the 30th International Poetry Award in Italy and the World Peace Ambassador Certificate in 2024. Notably, she was the first Chinese recipient of the Cross-Cultural Exchange Medal for Significant Contribution to World Poetry, awarded in the United States in 2023.
Her works, including “Octopus Bones” and other acclaimed poems, have resonated with readers worldwide, garnering invitations to prominent international poetry festivals and conferences. Her dedication to the arts extends beyond poetry, encompassing prose, essays, lyrics, and drama, underscoring her versatility as a writer. Nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2020, Anna Keiko continues to break barriers, bringing Chinese literature to the global stage.
Improving speaking skills through using role-play games
Olimova Shahina Botirjon qizi
Student of Uzbekistan State World Languages University
Abstract: As Globalization is changing rapidly; English is becoming the primary international communicative language across the world. Therefore, responding to students’ needs about improving oral skills in English can be effectively achieved through role-playing games. This article investigates the effectiveness of using innovative approaches and engaging games in teaching and provides useful methods and implementations for developing speaking skills.
Introduction: English is a language. mainly used by people to communicate with each other to make relationships, so English is a crucial bridge that connects people with other nations. Speaking is the most productive skill that requires doing. practices continuously, as compared to other parts. However, there are some problems that students face frequently, and teachers need to help them to alleviate challenges. Firstly, many students feel nervous or self-conscious. when they speak, especially in front of their peers and teachers.
Secondly, a restricted vocabulary can make it more challenging to express their opinion. clearly; it leads to hesitation and frustration while speaking. Thirdly, Students may struggle with pronouncing words, which can mainly affect their clarity and make it difficult for others to understand them. Additionally, one of the biggest problems that make it difficult for students to speak is that They usually may not have enough opportunity to practice speaking in a suitable environment due to limited classroom activities.
Problems that are counted above are divided into two main parts: internal and external factors. Internal factors consist of motivation, confidence, and background knowledge, while external factors involve teacher interaction, class environment, and interactive methods.
For solving these problems, role-play can be effective. teaching technique that can enhance students’ communication ability for several reasons.
1. Role play emphasizes students’ participation. This game engages students to play different kinds of characters and encourages them to simulate real-life situations where students can practice speaking skills in comfortable atmosphere. It helps them to become more comfortable with various conversations. and varied interactions.
2. Engaging in role play allows students to practice without fear of judgment. As they become more familiar with speaking in various roles, their confidence grows; consequently, it leads to improvement in fluency.
3. Students use different vocabularies that are related. to specific topics. and scenes that aid retention and help them understand how to use vocabulary and grammar appropriately in different situations.
4. Role play encourages students to think critically. and boost their fluency. In role plays, students must think on their feet. which can contribute to enhancing their ability to formulate thoughts quickly and articulate them clearly.
5. Working with classmates during play exercises boosts not only their teamwork skills but also their collaborative communication ability as they negotiate roles and scenarios together.
Research and discussion:
This research was conducted in the classroom. For observation, fifth-grade students were selected, consisting of 18 students. It is intended to improve their speaking. ability through role-playing games. The study was conducted over eight weeks.
Week 1: Participants took a pre-test to assess their speaking proficiency. Teachers introduced role-play activities that involved daily basic conversations such as ordering food in a restaurant, buying vegetables, and fruits from supermarkets. It was not too complicated and challenging; that can easily engage groups in traditional speaking exercises.
Week 2-7: The experimental group participated in weekly role-play scenes. Each session focused on different types of topics, and students were able to rotate their roles; consequently, they ensured a diverse set of speaking opportunities. They tried to speak without learning sentences by heart.
Week 8: At the end of the 8 weeks, students took a speaking exam to compare their results with pre-tests. It was exactly shown that there were significant increases in their speaking proficiency scores. When teachers got a speaking test from students; they were able to see great improvement in not only their grammatical and lexical resources, but also in their fluency. During the conversation, 80 percent of students used complex structures and complicated vocabularies about specific topics, and they expressed their opinion without hesitation and interruptions. Additionally, students had a more positive attitude. towards speaking in English and saw greater confidence in their speaking ability.
Conclusion:
Impact of teaching speaking Skills through role play help students to increase their ability to speak. It was shown from the research that through simulating real-life scenarios, participants will be able to practice language skills in supportive and engaging atmosphere. Additionally, during the play, the students learn to be fluent and continue their speech without interruption. After the research, it was clearly shown that the student’s interest in the English language has increased and Also, they learned how to communicate with native speakers.
References:
Harris, D. P. (1997). Testing English as a Second Language.” Bombay: MC Graw-Hill Publishing Company Ltd.
Harmer, J. (2007). “The practice of English language teaching’’ Pearson Longman
Thornbury, S. (2005). “How to teach Speaking.’’ Pearson Longman.
Tudor, I. (2001). “The dynamics of the language classroom.” Cambridge University Press.
Rashidova Shahrizoda Zarshidovna was born on October 31, 2010, in the Xo’jakon neighborhood of Qorako’l district, Bukhara region. She is currently an 8th-grade student at School No. 20 in the district and actively participates in various competitions. Notably, she secured first place in the ‘Young Reader’ competition in 2022 and 2023. She is also the winner of contests such as ‘Poetry Recital,’ ‘I Can Do It All,’ ‘My Homeland in My Words and Tunes,’ ‘Wings of Inspiration,’ ‘The Scholar-2018,’ and ‘Zakovat (Brain Ring).’
Her poems and stories have been featured in several journals, including Kindness and Raven Cage, where she consistently contributes her creative works. She is the author of books titled The Magic of the Pen, The Mirror of Inspiration, and The First Flight of a Creator.
In addition, Shahrizoda is the coordinator of ‘Aspiration’ EVH in Qorako’l district and serves as the head of the Wekelet Community organization in Uzbekistan.
Examine close reading of Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale with critical perspectives and textual references.
Margaret Atwood’s masterpiece “The Handmaid’s Tale” is a phenomenal dystopian speculative fiction of contemporary totalitarianism and authoritarianism “within Western society and within Christian tradition itself”. Old Testamentary militarized hierarchy disempowers women’s emancipation and dismantles womanhood into the closetted fetters of patriarchalism and misogyny as encountered by the tragic handmaids Offred and Ofglen. The worldview of casually held attitudes about women is a real life problem exposition of social commentary critiquing antifeminism and gender treachery, ecological disasters like nuclear radiation and chemical pollution, civil war and political turmoil, widespread sterility/ infertility and sexually transmitted diseases (HIVs and AIDs) contagion. New England Puritanism of Gileadean microcosm is a metafictional epilogue of post futuristic dystopian society purporting to be the premise of international historical association conference 2195. “Loving neighbours while harbouring animosity for the arbitrary adversaries reflect stranding of beleaguered populace within the communion and community. Offred is otherized as a concubine and wanton woman of the preGileadean regime. Offred’s reproductive machinery emblematically symbolizes sacrificial offering as a two legged womb fertility and/or surrogacy despite her malicious victimhood vulnerable to the vicious status quo as adulteress and strumpet. Mooning and Juneing of the coterie damsels and brothel courtesans reflect the objectification of commodified property of male gaze as extrapolated by the novelist. Gileadean feminization refrain and restrain from womanizing creatures of male power fantasies. Sexuality and gender stereotyping apartheid of womanhood is subversively challenged by subalterns and marthas, Rita and Nick, harbouring solidarity with the Mayday Resistance movement. Nick is hired by Serena Joy to cuckold Offred in return of heir to eclipse sexual impotency and emasculative effeminacy of her masterly lord husband, the commandant. However, Nick embodies humanness and philanthropism through espousal of escapade for the entrapped maiden’s absconsion to Canada.
Atwood’s feminist utopian idealism pontificates that masculine system is the major cause of social and political problems and showcases women as not only as the least equals of men but also as the sole arbiters of their reproductive functions. The novel is detrimental to Christian tradition because of being sexually explicit, violently graphic and morally corrupt. Anti Biblical teachings pertaining to sexuality and gender education are preached within the domain of The Handmaid’s Tale. However, the novel is a masterpiece of dystopian speculative fiction that espouses the exploration of “the most insidious and violent manifestations of power in Western history”. Jezebels and handmaids are iconoclastic milestones and cornerstones of enforced sexual captivity sanctioned by the Gileadean regime. Furthermore allegorical satire of the en masse non white African Americans rehabilitation and/or en route of Jewish diasporic exodus community repatriation to New Jerusalem have been depicted by the novelist. This dystopian nightmarish speculative fiction anchors barren wives of the elite class as royalists and depersonalizes the subjectivity of the subaltern other gender as fertility machines in accord with their reproductive agencies. Moreover, segregationist and separatist abortion rights and declining birth rates in Romanian and Canadian territorial context are allegorized. The universalistically spectacular appeal of the novel distinctively intertwines interlacing of feminist survivor characters’ destinies with ideological absolutism of the tyrannical apartheid. Racial persecution and ethnic cleansing cast vulnerable survivalists as prey into the cascade of fanaticism, extremism and fundamentalism.
Regressive and repressive state policies of conservative Gilead disfavours women’s rights movement including sapphic individuals, abortionists, abolitionists, religious sects and banishing Jews, elderly females and non white populace to the territorial outskirts of radioactive fallout colonies. As a feminist activist Margaret Atwood voices for women’s education and property power of attorney as manifested through the caricature of Mayday Resistance. Mayday Resistance is bolstered by radical feminist activist Ofglen to overthrow the republic of Gilead. However, the antifeminist traits of the novel marginalizes and otherizes handmaids as mere breeders of reproductive machinery and /or reproductive agencies. These womenfolk relegates themselves as inferior and subservient to social, religious and cosmic roles, duties, obligations and errands sanctified and decreed by state sponsored right wing fundamentalism, rigid dogmas and misogynistic theosophies. Atwood’s Aunt Lydia is a depiction of church-state sponsored staunchest pacifists passive to the women’s resistance and rebellion; vicious preachers casting as spokesperson for antifeminism and urges handmaids to metamorphose themselves in the crux of de-sexuality, impersonality, disfiguration, disembodiment and dehumanization. In contrast, Nick is a renegade mutineering legacy of handmaids through underground networking channels resulting in rescue operations of entrapped maidens. However, the novel’s mimetic impulse of the commander appears more pathetic than sinister, baffled than manipulative and almost at all times a fool personae, thus condoning antifeminism. The narrator-protagonist of Handmaid’s Tale coping, endurance and survival quest after all, transmits translucent beacon of hope and humility for the oppressed minority amidst chilling and depressive uprooted soulless existence of a misogynous regime. Atwood’s subtle transfiguration to heroic feminist survivor sly subversive and determined daring conniver overthrow coercive dungeons of the pervasive canons of Gilead’s ruthlessly dystopian tyrannical nature. “Dark realm within’, ‘cellar’ and ‘attic hiding place’ connote ubiquitous nightmarish envisionings colonizing powers imposed upon handmaid-slave dynamic identity beyond exemplar premises of pervasive canons of Gilead frontiers. Offred’s solicitous gratification with hiraeth is a phantasmal escapism from absurdity and futility and/or defeatism and paralysis of the obsolete frozen barren wasteland. The mind style narrator-protagonist voice and perception is symptomatic of traumatic events and of excluded experiences that exemplifies discourse of a socially marginalized individual more than a woman’s language. Afterall, Eurydice, the Creation- death goddess whose self-expression and self-affirmation epiphanies emerges as evanescently and enigmatically in the resurrected tomb of the buried earthy womb epitomizes Offred’s repressive state of affairs.
Further Reading, References, Endnotes and Podcasts
Donna J. Haraway’s, 35. Introduction: A Cyborg Manifesto, Science, Technology and Socialist Feminism in the Late Twentieth Century, Routledge New York pp. 149-181
A woman’s place is in the resistance: self, narrative and performative femininity as subversion and weapon in the Handmaid’s Tale by Courtney Landis, Millersville University of Pennsylvania, Repository and Digital Archive pp. 1-70
The New York Times Margaret Atwood on ‘What The Handmaid’s Tale Means in the Age of Trump?’ Book Review Essays March 10, 2017
Margaret Atwood’s ‘The Handmaid’s Tale and the Dystopian Tradition’ Amin Malak, Canadian Literature Review, pp. 1-8
Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale: Resistance Through Narrating, Hilde Staels, 1995, English Studies, 76:5, pp. 455-467
‘Just a Backlash’: Margaret Atwood, Feminism and The Handmaid’s Tale, Shirley Neuman, pp. 1-12, University of Toronto Quarterly, Volume 75, No. 3, Summer 2006.
