The Nature of Wari: A Reappraisal of the Middle Horizon Period in Peru 0860546683
210 38 28MB
English Pages 224 [234] Year 1989
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Citation preview
The Nature of Wari A Reappraisal of the Middle Horizon Period in Peru
edited by
R. M. Czwarno, F. M. Meddens and A. Morgan
BAR International Series 525 1989
B.A.R. 5, Centremead, Osney Mead, Oxford 0X2 ODQ, England.
GENERAL EDITORS
A.R. Hands, B.Sc., M.A., D.Phil. D.R. Walker, M.A.
BAR -S525, 1989:
’The Rature of Vari*
Price £14.00 post free throughout the world. Payments made in dollars must be calculated at the current rate of exchange and $8.00 added to cover exchange charges. Cheques should be made payable to B.A.R. and sent to the above address.
© The Individual Authors, 1989 ISBI 0 86054 668 3
For details of all new B.A.R. publications in print please write to the above address. Information on new titles is sent regularly on request, with no obligation to purchase. Volumes are distributed from the publisher. All B.A.R. prices are inclusive of postage by surface mail anywhere in the world.
Printed in Great Britain
Dedicated to the people of Perú.
Contents
Introduction R.M. Czwarno, F.M. Meddens and A. Morgan......... iii
Cambios significatives ocurridos en el mundo andino Ruth Shady Solis........... 1
Huari administration: a view from the capital Christine C. Brewster-Wray........... 23
Evidence for the dual socio-political organisation and administrative structure of the Wari state Martha B. Anders......... 35
The Wari empire in the southern Peruvian highlands: a view from the provinces Gordon F. McEwan......... 53
A speculative hypothesis of Wari southern expansion Robert A. Feldman........... 72
Honcopampa: was it a Huari administrative centre? William H. Isbell........... 98
Social patterning and the investigation of political control: the case for the Moche/Chimu area R. Michael Czwarno......... 115
Implications of camelid management and textile production for Huari Frank M. Meddens ...... 146
Change and cultural interactions in the Middle Horizon: the evidence of the pottery figurines Alexandra Morgan......... 166
Tejidos del Horizone Medio del Valle de Huarmey Heiko Prümers........... 189
Wari and Mycenae: some evolutionary comparisons Allison Paulsen........... 215
ii
Introduction R.M. Czwarno, F.M. Meddens and A. Morgan Quiero medir lo mucho que no se y ese asi como Uego sin rumbo, toco y abren, entro y miro los retratos de ayer en las paredes
Neruda 1982:188.
If only we could put the past on a projector and see it replay itself like some lost film classic. How much easier it would be to understand—and how much less challenging. Gone would be the heresies and arguments—replaced by cold certainty. The Middle Horizon symposium in Amsterdam at the 46th International Congress of Americanists grew out of the uncertainties which cloud this period in Peruvian prehistory. It was an attempt to bring together different perspectives— since “los retratos de ayer...” look completely different to each of the viewers— to see if a reappraisal of recent work would bring these different pictures more closely together. It did not do so, but it has presented us with new perspectives on these divergent views.
The idea of a Tiahuanaco Horizon was first suggested by Uhle (1903) on the basis of Tiahuanaco-related ceramics found at Pachacamac. The wide distribution of this type of ceramics was further confirmed by the study of the Uhle material from other locations in Peru, ranging from the Moche/Chicama valleys in the North to the Nasca Valley in the South (Strong 1925; Kroeber 1925a; Kroeber 1925b; Gayton and Kroeber 1927). But it was Tello (1970 [1931]) who first sought a Peruvian center from which the style derived from Tiahuanaco could have spread and who directed the attention of scholars such as Rowe, Collier, Willey (1950) and Bennett (1953) to the site of Huari. A detailed study of investigations concerning the Wari state appears in Anders (1986:37-48).
In 1964, on the strength of the documented ceramic material available at the time, Menzel undertook to establish a rigorous chronology of the Wari style and to trace the evidence of Wari influence in the Ayacucho Basin and on the Central and South coasts. She came to the conclusion that the spread of the style was not only due to “religious propaganda” but that there was also proof of “military conquest” by an “imperial state with its capital at Huari and ruling the whole central part of Peru” (Menzel 1964:68). Large scale investigations undertaken at the site of Huari by Isbell and a number of scholars working with iii
him during the 1970s seemed to confirm the existence of a highly centralised state in the Ayacucho Basin. Soon doubts about this model—in particular about the idea of an expan sionist military empire—began to be voiced. Logically they first emerged in an area where the Wari presence was not strongly felt—the North Coast. Here the investigations of a team from Harvard University under Moseley lead to the conclusion that “the nature of the Middle Horizon occupation does not confirm the hypothesis of a foreign invasion originating from the southern site of Huari” (Donnan and Mackey 1978:213) indeed that “the chronological hiatus separat ing the Moche and succeeding Chimu cultural phases.. .is now open to serious question” (Bawden 1982:288), thus denying the very existence, at least for that part of Peru, of a Middle Horizon.
In a study examining phenomena and explanatory models which focusses on influential factors other than military expansion—aspects such as climate, demographic growth, development of important regional centers, linguistics, for example—Shady (1982, this volume) suggests that long-distance contacts already became operative in the whole Peruvian territory during phase 7 of the Early Intermediate Period “before the presence of Tiahuanacoid [stylistic] traits”; and that there are no sufficient indications corroborating the existence of a Wari empire either in epoch 1 or in epoch 2 of the Middle Horizon. More recently, Anders has suggested that the perception of local styles during the Middle Horizon, has been “blurred by the expectations generated by the model of Wari conquest” (Anders 1986:37), thus questioning the validity of epochs 3 and 4 of Menzel’s chronology.
There are those who see pictures of an empire extending from near the Bolivian border almost to Ecuador—leaving its calling card in fragments of pottery and administrative centres across the deserts, mountains and valley oases of Peru. Isbell looks at a previously almost unknown site—Onqopampa, in the Callejón de Huaylas—and sees the establishment of the Wari empire before that empire developed its characteristic administrative complex—as described and elucidated by Brewster-Wray. McEwan continues his previous work, and expands his explanations of Pikillaqta as a major Wari provincial capital, controlling the borders between the Wari and Tiwanaku empires.
Feldman’s study of what he interprets as the military expansion of Wari towards the south adds the dimension of confrontation with Tiwanaku-—thus giving one possible explanation for the appropriation of Tiwanacoid iconography by Wari. Onto this model of a bureaucratic, centralised and expansionist state, Anders adds illuminating touches of a more subtle system of authority. Starting with the evidence for a dual organisation which best fits her data from Azángaro, she suggests that the same dualism and reciprocity—a deeply rooted precept of Andean ethnic tradition—may well have operated in the whole of the Wari state, leading to a delicate balance between centralising and decentralising tendencies and a typically Andean strategy for the imposition of authority and ideology on dependent territories. Meddens looks at Espinar and the Chicha/Soras Valley and sees evidence of Wari control over herding and pastoralism—albeit with a iv
light hand at the reins—-in a manner which suggests the same desire to control the production of cloth as that evident in the Inka empire. Paulsen’s paper takes up a challenge thrown down by Rowe some years ago, and suggests a synthetic model of the development of empires—by comparing Wari and Mycenae.
On the other hand are those whose picture of the Middle Horizon is something simultaneously simpler and more complex—simpler in the absence of empire— but with an array of states and polities interacting with each other to form something more complex than had gone before—a confederacy perhaps. Shady takes an unconventional approach—particularly to the ceramic data— in reconsidering the socioeconomic and political foundations of, and develop ments during, the Middle Horizon. The Chakipampa-Nasca 9, Vinaque-Atarco and Tiwanacoid controversies she raises suggest a radically different focus. Cer tainly her hypotheses are challenging, and could lead us into new directions for research—which must include greater access to detailed data if they are to succeed. Czwarno looks for evidence of discontinuity in the cultural patterns of the North Coast and the presence of foreign influence by analysing spatial forms from Pampa Grande and Chan Chan in relation to Middle Horizon floorplans from the Viru and Rimae Valleys. The absence of Wari-influenced patterns, and the apparent continuity of local forms suggests to him that the Wari presence on the North Coast was light, and probably did not entail political control. This is echoed to some extent in Prumers’ paper, which considers North Coast Middle Horizon textiles from Huarmey. Prumers analysis suggests the Middle Horizon textile motifs were a fusion of Moche and Wari styles expressing a local idiom. He also fails to find evidence of a Wari-dominated buffer between the north and central coasts—something also evident in Morgan’s analysis of figurines from Chimu Capac—a site seen by Menzel as just such a buffer. Morgan’s analysis of Early Intermediate Period and Middle Horizon figurines, discovers the development of new modes of expression within local idioms, but against a background of interregional contact. As with the Prumers and Czwarno papers, the inferences seem to point to complex interaction, but not necessarily to the development of a Middle Horizon empire.
Even a cursory skimming of the papers presented here indicate just how differently the data are viewed by the various investigators. McEwan and Anders both discuss Azangaro, but offer radically different explanations from Anders’ original work. In a similar vein of disagreement, Czwarno argues that the lack of Wari spatial patterns at a site with elite architecture indicates the lack of Wari political control—by linking spatial patterns with structures of group identity creation and maintenance—while Isbell argues the lack of Wari spatial patterns at Onqopampa is clearly indicative that the Wari empire was established well before suitable state mechanisms for the control of conquered groups.
Whence comes this pachakuti—this “worlds in upheaval” dichotomy? The answer is neither straight-forward nor simple—it rests in what always seems to produce the split between belief and heresy—in the meanings we extrapolate from the material remains of the past. Much of the current thinking should be v
seen against the backdrop of the socio-economic climate within which the various investigations originate. Anthropological and archaeological theory are—to some degree—coloured by philosophical beliefs, the socio-economic background and origin of the researchers who generate those theories and the principles and philosophies of the funding bodies who support them. In the case of the Middle Horizon, dichotomy has been bred by the symbols of influence we see in pottery and (to some extent) in architecture. The papers presented here are no exception. It becomes clear that a great regional variation in Wari architecture exists. It is noteworthy that this variation in design and detail also occurs at Huari itself. It deserves far greater investigative emphasis than it has received to date. The North Coast relationships between Huari, Moche and Chimu are again shown to be problematic, and data is presented which appears to throw new light on this question. A critical review of the papers presented here shows the Huari/Wari issue to be as controversial as ever. To some degree, the problem is exacerbated by the fact that very large tracts of Peru still have received very little archaeological focus. Thus, the origins of some stylistic traits, and the chronological sequences of some local cultural developments are still not clearly understood. Clearly, the role of ceramics in the definition of the Middle Horizon empire is central. The evidence of Wari influence remains the presence of pottery with Middle Horizon motifs. Perhaps a solution to the present dichotomy requires that we re-evaluate the explanatory potential of ceramic styles. Can we be confident that ceramic distributions accurately delimit political boundaries? Thus, until we can clearly explain the mechanisms of stylisitic diffusion, ceramic evidence should perhaps not be seen as the primary arbiter. What is needed is uncontrovertible evidence—from one side of the debate or the other—to adequately explain Huari’s role in the Middle Horizon. The studies published in the last decade are inscribed within the framework of this controversy. Questions which may provide a solution to this dichotomy include the following:
*
- was Wari a “Horizon Style” which encompassed the main cultural areas of Peru in the same way as Chavin or Tawantinsuyu? - If Wari is a “Horizon Style”, what were the mechanisms of propagation —were they religious, military, commercial, or a combination of these or other systemic variables?
- How can the different strengths of impact of the Wari styles in various areas be explained? - What are the chronological implications of these difference? - If Wari is not a “Horizon Style”, is there nevertheless evidence of long distance contact and a heightened pan-Peruvian “awareness” at or after the end of the Early Intermediate Period?
vi
Neruda, P. 1982 El escondido. El fuego cruel. In Isla Negra: A Notebook. Translated by Alastain Reid. Souvenir Press, London. Rowe, J.H., D. Collier and G. Willey 1950 Reconnaissance notes on the site of Huari, near Ayacucho, Peru. American Antiquity 16:120-137. Shady Solis, R. 1982 La cultura Nievería y la interacción social en el mundo andino en la época Huari. Arqueológicas 19:5-108. Strong, W.D. 1925 The Uhle Pottery Collections from Ancón. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 21(4):135-190. Tello, J.C. 1970[1931] Las ruinas de Wari. El Comercio, Lima, 27 agosto de 1931. Reprinted in 100 Años de Arqueología en el Perú, edited by R. Ravines, pp.519-525. Lima. Uhle, M. 1903 Pachacamac. Report of the William Pepper, M.D.,L.L.D., Peruvian Expedition of 1896. Philadelphia.
viii
- What evidence of cultural continuity exists in the different areas between the Early and Late Intermediate periods?
Until both sides of the argument can address these questions—and see the same pictures—the dichotomy will remain. In the interests of debate we have left responsibility for content with the individual authors, even where we strongly question the factual content of some of the papers.
As a final note, it will be obvious we can’t even agree on spelling: some authors use the Hispanisised Huari exclusively, others use the Qeshwa Wari— the split falls somewhere between the two camps. In this volume we have decided to utilise the spelling favoured by each author, except where the author’s use was inconsistent, though our personal preference was to use Qeshwa orthography. Perhaps a first step towards reconciliation would be the adoption of the spellings which appear more prevalent in Peru—that is, Qeshwa—with one possible exception, as used here in this introduction—using Wari to indicate the empire, and Huari specifically in discussing the site. We have accented all placenames which do not have an Anglicised equivalent regardless of author practise in respect for the country which provides such a rich focus for our varied interests in the past.
Acknowledgements: We wish to thank Elizabeth Baquedano for her assistance in editing the Spanish papers in this volume.
Bibliography Anders, M.B. 1986 Dual organization and calendars inferred from the planned site of Azdngaro: Wari administrative strategies. Ph.D. dissertation, Cornell University.
Bennett, W.C. 1953 Excavations at Wari, Ayacucho, Peru. Yale University Publications in Anthropology 49. Donnan, C. B. and C. Mackey 1978 Ancient Burial Patterns of the Moche Valley, Peru. University of Texas Press, Austin.
Gay ton, A.H. and A.L.Kroeber 1927 The Uhle Pottery Collections from Nazca. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 24(1). Kroeber, A.L. 1925a The Uhle Pottery Collections from Moche. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 21(5). 1925b The Uhle Pottery Collections from Supe. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 21(6).
Menzel, D. 1964 Style and Time in the Middle Horizon. Nawpa Pacha 2:1-106.
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Cambios significativos ocurridos en el mundo andino durante el Horizonte Medio Ruth Shady SolisJ
Introducción El debate que se viene dando para caracterizar la situación cultural en los Andes Centrales durante el denominado Horizonte Medio en la arqueología peruana (500-900 d.C.), período en el cual se manifestó el fenómeno Huari, está contribuyendo a un mejor esclarecimiento y comprensión de las sociedades andinas en ese período. Frente a la propuesta de entender este “fenómeno Huari” como efecto de un fuerte proceso de interacción multiregional entre las sociedades andinas (Shady 1982, 1988), y no como resultado de la extensión de un imperio, según se venía sosteniendo. Hay quienes persisten en la defensa del modelo imperial, llegando a negar incluso la confiabilidad de los datos arqueológicos para contrastar ambos modelos. Felizmente, ya se aprecia un cambio en la actitud de un número creciente de investigadores, no obstante alguna dificultad para desprenderse del modelo de imperio, asumido por más de cuatro décadas. Se empieza a reconocer la importancia de los Estados Regionales en el Horizonte Medio y utilizar el término Huari con más cautela: Anders se refiere al “Estado Huari” más que a imperio y sugiere reducción territorial, Topic restringe el ámbito del “Estado Huari” a la Sierra Central y Sur, dejando fuera la costa y Sierra Norte (Shady 1988:100, 119), y Czwarno, haciendo un exámen de sintaxis espacial en los sitios del Período Intermedio Temprano y Horizonte Medio, según la gramática espacial de Hillier y Hanson, puntualiza que la ausencia de estructuras del estado Huari en los complejos urbanos investigados y la continuidad de patrones espaciales locales supone que Huari no controló Cajamarquilla o Viracochapampa, y que la sola presencia per se de sitios construidos en damero no es suficiente prueba para postular un imperio Huari; si éste existió—indica— podría haber sido mucho más pequeño de lo que se ha postulado (Czwarno 1988:437-438; véase éste volumen). Estos investigadores coinciden en señalar la necesidad de más estudio arqueológico y reconocen que se ha asumido muy apriorísticamente la tesis del Imperio.
De la reevaluación se infiere que, por lo menos, en el actual estado del conocimiento ya no se puede aceptar el modelo imperial como la única explicación posible al proceso ocurrido en el Horizonte Medio. Como bien se
t Universidad Nacional
Mayor de San Marcos
1
ha señalado los dos modelos son conceptualmente diferentes: en lugar de un imperio que distribuye bienes y controla los Andes a través de una serie de centros regionales, se tiene una serie de Estados Regionales enlazados entre sí por redes de intercambio y que ejercen control sobre sus áreas propias. En tanto acumulemos la información necesaria para su contrastación, consideramos que el modelo a favor de la importancia de varias naciones y Estados regionales y de su interacción es más productivo porque hace un llamado a la realización de investigaciones regionales, y a la caracterización socioeconómica de cada uno de los Estados, con cuyos resultados iremos avanzando hacia una mejor comprensión de la historia social en cada region y del proceso general en que todas ellas estuvieron inmersas. Se hace también ahora evidente que las manifestaciones atribuidas respec tivamente a las épocas 1 y 2 del Horizonte Medio, obedecen a eventos sustan cialmente distintos; y esta comprobación, a su vez, requiere una estimación más precisa de lo que entendemos bajo el término Huari. ¿Es útil continuar con su uso aún cuando hayamos cuestionado el modelo de imperio? ¿Puede denomi narse como Huari a las épocas 1 y 2 del período entre los años 500 y 800 d.C., si verificamos que en éste se dieron sucesos muy diferentes? ¿A cuál de las épocas 1 ó 2 tipificaríamos como Huari? Por otro lado, el término mismo de Horizonte Medio tendría que ser reexaminado, dado que se aplica a las cuatro épocas en que ha sido subdividido, en base al supuesto de la distribución de un conjunto de rasgos a través del territorio de los Andes Centrales; supuesto que sólo se cumple en la época 2 con la extensión de rasgos tiahuanacoides. A algunas de estas cuestiones podemos dar respuesta con los resultados de recientes estudios, pero quedan otras pendientes del avance de los trabajos arqueológicos y del esfuerzo que hagamos por desentrañar este intrigante período del proceso cultural andino. Lo más importante de todo es rescatar una actitud científica que permita evaluar el problema Huari en su real dimensión y orientar la investigación a la búsqueda de nuevos datos y al manejo correcto de los ya recientes.
Etapa de integración. Epoca 1: auge y relación interregional La que ha venido denominándose época 1 del Horizonte Medio se caracteriza por la existencia de Estados Regionales independientes y prósperos, que ejercían control político, económico y cultural en el ámbito de su región, sustentaban im portantes centros urbanos ubicados en lugares estratégicos para el intercambio, y mantenían una fuerte interacción a nivel interregional.
La comunidad de rasgos que muestran internamente cada una de las diversas sociedades regionales, la construcción de grandes centros urbanos y el movimiento de rasgos en diferentes direcciones a lo largo y ancho de los Andes Centrales no son resultantes de la existencia de un solo imperio—que ni es 2
Mapa 1: Principales centros urbanos del Horizonte Medio y sus an tecedentes regionales.
necesaria ni basta para explicarlos, ni con ellos se prueba—sino la expresión del exitoso desemvolvimiento sociocultural alcanzado en cada región, proceso que había venido fortaleciéndose a través de la previa etapa reconocida como “Desarrollo Regional” y cuyas primeras manifestaciones de apertura al contacto interregional amplio se aprecian desde la etapa tardía de ese período (Shady 1981).
La intensificación de la interacción y el incremento del comercio derivados del mayor nivel productivo logrado regionalmente nos ponen ante un período de prosperidad e integración entre las diversas sociedades regionales. 3
Posición
LIMA
HM2B
MOCHE-
AYACUCHO
HUAMACHUCC
CUSCO
TIAHUANACO
VUMlCOCTIA
pikhj„ATTA
TIAHU;\NACO
LAMBAYEQUE
Cronológica
BATAN
PACHACAMAC
GRANDE
HM2A PAMPA
HM IB
C AM
HIL\RI
GRAJMDE
PZIMP;
MAR QUILLA
GALINDO
¡ i
¡
HM 1A
?
PERIODO INTERMEDIO
MAILAN GA
TEMPRANO
HUAC AS DEL SOL f LA LUNA
MARCAHUA
TIAHUXNACO
MZlCHIICO
Figura 1 : Desarrollo de las culturas principalas entre el Periodo Intermedio Temprano y el Horizonte Medio.
Por tanto, estamos planteando que tal época 1 del Horizonte Medio sea entendida como un de florecimiento, no de un “imperio” exclusivo, sino de varios “emporios” gobernados por Estados regionales consolidados, cada uno de los cuales conducía el tráfico de bienes en el territorio, bajo su directa hegemonía política, pero también establecía relaciones con otros estados, y naciones hasta distancias considerables. Es una época de intensificación de contactos e intercambios en múltiples direcciones; y de allí su relevancia porque esta interacción debió convertirse en vehículo de transmisión de conocimientos y experiencias impulsando el avance cultural en las sociedades andinas.
Una cabal comprensión de lo acaecido en esta época se alcanzará, en la medida en que volquemos nuestro interés por conocer las manifestaciones culturales en cada región, a través de la etapa previa de “Desarrollo Regional”. El proceso que tuvo lugar desde la parte final de ésta ha quedado testimoni ado por: los restos monumentales de centros urbanos destacados, ubicados en las diferentes regiones, cada una con su peculiar concepción acerca de la distribución y relación espacial entre sus edificaciones, concepción derivada de la cosmografía tradicional de cada sociedad (Czwarno 1988); el prestigio simultáneo de estilos alfareros que identifican a culturas regionales; la distribución continua que en el área espacial regional muestran cada uno de estos estilos (y que podría reflejar el ámbito de prestigio o de influencia cultural de un estado); y, al lado de ellos, la presencia de objetos foráneos, provenientes de áreas vecinas o distantes, o la combinación de rasgos estilísticos alfareros de diversas procedencias en ciertos estilos locales. Pasemos a examinar estos rasgos:
4
Centros urbanos regionales Uno de los argumentos principales que esgrimen los defensores del Imperio Huari es la existencia de centros planificados, arquitectónicamente similares. Al respecto, observamos que, desde la parte final del Período Intermedio Temprano y durante la época 1 del Horizonte Medio varias sociedades regionales, poseedoras de bienes intercambiables en escala amplia, habían establecido centros urbanos (figura 1), tales los casos de Cajamarquilla o Marcahuamachuco, ciertamente anteriores al Horizonte Medio 1 y con una larga tradición de asentamientos de tamaño y complejidad urbanos. En cambio, ninguno de los poblados asignados con exclusividad al Intermedio Temprano en Ayacucho muestran indicios que prefiguren la arquitectura de la urbe de Huari. El modelo de expansión de un único Estado, el “Huari” no explica la construcción de ciudades regionales diversas, como Pikillajta en el Cusco, Marcahuamachuco y Viracochapampa en Huamachuco, Pampa Grande en la región de Lambayeque, o Cajamarquilla en la Costa Central, entre otras. En lugar de ellas, se esperaría la construcción artificial de centros administrativos bajo un patrón similar y de fortines o cuarteles para el control de una región.
Como Czwarno (1988) ha bien demostrado, ninguna de las principales urbes atribuidas a construcción del Imperio Huari expone el mismo patrón de relación espacial entre sus edificaciones, el cual, de haberse dado, habría sido evidencia inequívoca de la existencia de una cosmografía única de parte de sus constructores. Se esperaría que la élite administrativa Huari llevara a las áreas domi nadas sus propios patrones o aspectos normativos, que la identificaran y expresaran su status, como ocurrió con los Incas. Pero, en cambio sólo se nota la ausencia de estructuras del estado Huari y la continuidad de patrones espaciales locales (Czwarno 1988:438, traducción nuestra).
Estas urbes, como Cajamarquilla o Viracochapampa, expresan concepciones propias de cómo cada sociedad percibía tradicionalmente las relaciones espa ciales, concepciones que han quedado plasmadas en la construcción de las es tructuras administrativas de élite—más allá de aparentes rasgos constructivos formales, como el planeamiento rectilíneo y/o en parrilla de las estructuras, que por una evaluación superficial han sido interpretados como improntas comunes impuestas por el pretendido dominio imperial. Es más: aún en el campo de lo formal, varios de estos rasgos arquitectónicos ya eran conocidos y usados por sociedades de la costa y de la sierra norte mucho antes que en Huari, Ayacucho, desde períodos anteriores al Horizonte Medio, como han señalado Topic y Topic, en relación con la arquitectura de Marcahuamachuco (Czwarno 1988; Topic y Topic 1986). Por otro lado, todavía dentro de lo formal, la construcción de ciudades y su planificación peuden responder a las funciones del intercambio de bienes y al trabajo de especialistas. Comprobado su óptimo funcionamiento, no habría sido difícil que trasladasen el modelo y/o a los maestros especializados a través del ámbito que las redes 5
de intercambio multidireccional iban estableciendo. Lo significativo, como manifestación de la libre determinación de las sociedades, es que en cada sitio los lugareños no solo impusieron rasgos de su propia tradición arquitectónica, sino fundamentalmente, representaron su propia cosmografía espacial, en los términos de Czwarno.
Sugerimos que ciudades como Cajamarquilla fueron primero producto de la consolidación económica de su región, y de la producción mercantil. Estas se ubicaron, por lo general, en zonas de contacto entre poblaciones de diversas nacionalidades porque habrían funcionado como agentes de la interacción, sirviendo de intermediarias de los bienes producidos por cada nación. Los centros costeños estuvieron en lugares de conexión con los valles interandinos. La ubicación de Pampa Grande en Lambayeque, a 58 km al interior desde el mar; de Galindo en Moche, también a una distancia similar tierra adentro, o del mismo Cajamarquilla en plena ruta por donde bajaban hielo y otras mercancías desde la Sierra Central todavía en tiempos de la colonia, hace pensar en esa vinculación con poblaciones del interior, cuando éstas disponían también de suficientes excedentes para el intercambio. Al estar estos centros urbanos en relación con el desarrollo de las áreas de producción que los sustentaban, de ellas dependió su prosperidad o ruina. Crecieron en lugares que les permitía conectar áreas donde se había generado una fuerte activación económica y desaparecieron cuando se deprimió la producción en alguna de las áreas participantes en la esfera de interacción. Con similar modelo podríamos explicar bien que tales centros ya no siguieron siendo utilizados al romperse las redes de intercambio, y no cuando se colapso el supuesto imperio. Es interesante observar que, al parecer en la época 2, entran en crisis la mayoría de estos centros, casi paralelamente con la aparición de iconografía tiahuanacoide.
Por lo que toca a la Costa Central, se puede notar que la urbe de Cajamarquilla, surgida en la parte final del Período Intermedio Temprano y muy próspera en la época 1 del Horizonte Medio en coincidencia con el prestigio del estilo cerámico Nievería decae a partir de la época 2. El estilo en la área de Lima que sigue al Niervería, el Pachacámac, va a ser encontrado mayormente en entierros de sitios del litoral, como el mismo sitio de Pachacámac. Es posible que los hallazgos de Pachacámac, Chimu Capác, Maimi, tengan relación con ofrendas y ritos por la crisis económica que atravesaban los pueblos de altura, en particular los ubicados en la vertiente occidental, con una económia mayormente dependiente de la agricultura de secano.
En la Costa Norte, Lambayeque reemplazó en presencia regional a Moche y entabló relaciones con Pachacámac. Hacia la época 2B del Horizonte Medio las ciudades o centros como Cajamarquilla, Viracochapampa, Huari, Pikillajta habían perdido vigencia y,
6
casi sin funciones, habían sido abandonadas o transformadas en establecimientos de distinto carácter. La importancia de las sociedades costeñas, como las del área central y su vinculación con poblaciones de lea, Supe o Lambayeque, como revela la fuerte influencia del estilo Pachacámac en esos lugares, nos ha permitido sugerir para la época 2 el traslado de los polos de desarrollo y el surgimiento de nuevos centros de activación económica, esta vez ubicados en la costa, en función de las sociedades costeñas y de su desenvolvimiento mercantil por vía marítima. En esta época Pachacámac cumple el rol de agente activo de los contactos entre norte y sur (Shady 1982:62-65).
Como una expresión de los tiempos difíciles que atraviesan en la época 2, los nuevos estilos, a diferencia de los pertenecientes a la época 1, están impregnados de religiosidad. Muestran diseños de una iconografía de fuerte prestigio en Tiahuanaco, cultura altiplánica que estuvo asentada en una región de cambios climáticos drásticos, con sequías intensas y prolongadas.
La depresión económica que en la época 2 limitó la participación de las poblaciones altoandinas en las redes de interacción establecidas en la época 1, y ocasionó la decadencia de los centros urbanos podría tener relación: 1: con alteraciones significativas en las condiciones climáticas. Alguno datos señalan que hacia 500 d.C. se inicia un período de desmejoramiento del clima y que la tendencia al frío se hace más acentuado alrededor de 660-770 d.C. (Cardich 1975). Las poblaciones del interior, dependientes de una agricultura de secano, habrían visto afectada su economía, y, en algunos casos, el descenso del nivel de cultivo las habría obligado a emigrar. Y/o 2: con el intercambio desigual, sugerido por Torero (1983), que habría beneficiado a las sociedades costeñas y empobrecido a las sociedades de la mayor parte de las cuencas interandinas. El meyor desarrollo socio económico de las poblaciones costeñas derivaría hacia éstas los beneficios del intercambio: •
.. .la succión de las riquezas y de los más calificados recursos humanos del interior por parte de los centros costeños, a través del intercam bio desigual, así como probables períodos de prolongada adversidad climática en las zonas cordilleranas ocasionaron las migraciones masi vas de las gentes serranas y la extinción de la actividad urbana en las áreas collavina y ayacuchana (Torero 1983:67).
Cabe aquí recordar el comercio costeño y tener participación en sus beneficios (Shady 1988:127). Es interesante plantear para futuros trabajos la hipótesis de que algunos asentamientos costeños con alfares “tiahuanacoides” hayan sido poblados a partir de la época 2 por emigrantes del interior que buscaban sobrevivir en lugares del litoral, poseedores de mejores condiciones de vida. 7
Conforme avancen las investigaciones y dispongamos de mayores datos, en particular sobre las actividades realizadas en sitios como Cajamarquilla, Pikillajta, Viracochapampa o Huari (del que carecemos hasta de un plano para conocer su extensión y características en cada época) entonces podremos ser categóricos en afirmar que tales fueron centros de intercambio y/o sedes de un gobierno regional o imperial.
Importancia de los estilos locales y el manejo erróneo de la calificación “estilo Huari” Otro de los argumentos principales de aquellos que sostienen que el imperio Huari es la distribución de una supuesta “cerámica Huari”. Un marcado error ha sido, como ya he señalado (Shady 1982, 1988:123), identificar globalmente como “Huari” a cerámicas polícromas, más o menos contemporáneas, halladas en diversos lugares de los Andes Centrales, sin distinguir de cuál de los estilos específicos se trata: Nasca 9, Chakipampa, Ocros, de la época 1, o Conchopata, Pacheco; o Viñaque, Atareo y Pachacámac de la época 2; cada uno, proveniente de zonas que no son exclusivamente Ayacucho, y de épocas en que ocurrieron acontecimientos de naturalezas totalmente diferentes. Ahora queda claro que no significa lo mismo encontrar Nasca 9 o Viñaque en Cuélap, pues la presencia allí del uno o del otro estaría relacionada con zonas, épocas y sucesos históricos distintos. Con la reciente tendencia a relacionar la cerámica polícroma con supuesto estilo Huari con una presencia del “imperio Huari”, se concluyó, en base a unos tiestos “Huari” hallados en Moquegua, que el sitio Cerro Baúl representaba un intrusión militar del imperio Huari (Lumbreras 1982; Lumbreras et al. 1982; vease también Feldman en este volumen). Otros investigadores han más informado de la existencia de numerosa fragmenteria Tiahuanaco en el mismo sitio de Cerro Baúl, así como de cementerios, y, hasta de una ciudad de innegable filiación cultural tiahuanaquensef. ¿Puede utilizarse unos fragmentos de cerámica como criterio para aseverar la intromisión de un enclave económicopolítico en territorio de otro estado y donde predomina otro estilo alfarero? Observamos que no se ha considerado a los estilos locales coetáneos con esas piezas foráneas, para evaluar sus respectivas proporciones y determinar los eventuales cambios estilísticos y la intensidad del impacto externo, si lo hubiera.
Es interesante el caso ejemplificado en Azángaro, uno de los pocos sitios que presenta esta clase de información y cuya alfarería diagnóstica pertenece en su mayoría al Horizonte Medio, época 2, ubicado al norte de Ayacucho, en el Valle de Huanta, a escasos 15 km de Huari, “.. .tiene sorprendentemente poca cantidad de la alfarería Huari fina y de prestigio. El estilo local, Huamanga, representa al 95% de la muestra y la alfarería Huari sólo el 1.1%” (Anders 1987:2). Hay en ese lugar, adémas, “.. .imitaciones de formas y decoración no Huari, principalmente de Huancayo, sierra norte, costa nor-central, costa y sierra sur” (Anders 1987:7). f But see Feldman, this volume (eds.)
8
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Por otro lado, la misma arquitectura irregular de Azángaro, consistente con el estilo arquitectónico local, muestra diferencias con la de Huari. También se menciona que la presencia de entierros señala un origen local para los jefes de Azángaro y posiblemente para la población en general (Anders 1986:29).
Esta situación pone en tela de juicio el poder o control del estado Huari en la época 2 del Horizonte Medio, época en la que se planteó que el estado imperial había sido reorganizado y presentaba mayor hegemonía y expansión en los Andes. Si así hubiera sido ¿cómo pudo escapar dominación un lugar tan cercano como Azángaro, y cómo se espera, sin embargo, un control sobre centros o sociedades tan alejados como Piura o Cajamarca? El sitio de Jincamocco, al sur de Ayacucho, entre Cabana y Aucará, Lucanas, presenta un patrón de comport similar aunque el estudio de su alfarería no ha recibido la misma atención. Se menciona que el sitio estuvo ya ocupado por una cultura local cuando fue construido el centro administrativo, donde han sido halladas “.. .muestras grandes de estilo local en asociación directa con los estilos del Horizonte Medio, ‘Huari y no Huari’” (Schreiber 1978:79-81). Se menciona que los boles incisos y jarras serpentiformes del estilo local representan entre 5 y 15%, y, la alfarería llana el 70%; mientras que la cerámica polícroma y rota representa entre 15 y 30%. De estos, no se precisa, sin embargo, la cantidad de piezas de cada uno de los estilos denominados globalmente como “cerámica polícroma Huari” y como policromo no Huari, que representan importaciones exóticas; y aunque se mencionan: “...tiestos de los estilos “Negro Decorado”, Ocros, Chakipampa y quizás Robles Moqo de la época 1 (probablemente IB); y negro decorado, Viñaque y Atareo del Horizonte Medio 2” (Schreiber 1978:7981), no se indican los porcentajes respectivos de cada uno ó del conjunto pertenecientes a las épocas 1 ó 2; y, si bien se ha interpretado que el centro de Jincamocco fue construido en el Horizonte Medio IB y estuvo siendo ocupado durante las épocas 2A y 2B, no hay información acerca de la intensidad o carácter de la ocupación, en cada una de estas épocas. Igual o más severas limitaciones encontramos en otros sitios, como Pikillajta o Huari mismo, donde tampoco se conoce la proporción y extensión a lo largo de las épocas 1 y 2, que presentan los estilos allí identificados.
De particular interés sería conocer los estilos locales antes y durante el Horizonte Medio. No sabiendo siquiera de estos rasgos ni de la organización sociopolítica regional previa, ¿cómo podemos interpretar que el hallazgo de piezas alfareras con rasgos similares en diferentes regiones es prueba suficiente y exclusiva de la sujeción de éstas a un gobierno foráneo? ¿Hasta cuándo vamos a aceptar como dato fidedigno el simple hecho de encontrar unas cuantas piezas, no bien identificadas y asignadas en forma genérica a un supuesto “estilo Huari”?
Estilos alfareros que identifican a culturas regionales en el Hori zonte Medio Evaluando los estilos alfareros reconocidos para el Horizonte Medio observamos también marcado contraste para las dos épocas:
10
1: El prestigio suprarregional que simultáneamente alcanzaron varios estilos regionales no ayacuchanos y el intercambio multirregional de rasgos en el Horizonte Medio 1, en paralelo con el desarrollo de varios centros urbanos regionales. 2: La contracción en la distribución de los estilos regionales y la difusión de un conjunto de elementos iconográficos que podríamos identificar como tiahuanacoides en el Horizonte Medio 2, paralelamente con el cambio de funciones o el abandono de los centros urbanos. Este es un proceso que debió empezar al iniciarse la época 2, y se fue acelerando en su transcurso.
Desde fines del Período Intermedio Temprano y en la época 1 del Horizonte Medio mostraban prestigio los estilos de cerámica Nasca, Moche, Cajamarca, Nievería, los cuales se distribuían a nivel regional cada uno en su área de influencia directa e impactaban en otros estilos locales, y, simultáneamente, remontaban los límites de ella hacia otras regiones mediante la conexión que se había establecido entre las diversas naciones. En la época IB es amplia la distribución de los estilos—Nasca 9, particular mente en Ayacucho, donde se le conoce bajo el nombre de Chakipampa. Sus rasgos han sido identificados también en Lima, Huancayo y hasta en lugares más alejados como Tantamayo (Huánuco), Cuélap (Amazonas) (Ruiz 1969:6064), Huamachuco (Thatcher 1977:101-110) y el Callejón de Huaylas. Nievería, aparte de estar en el valle bajo del Rímac y sus tributarios altos, es hallada en el área entre Pativilca y Lurin con incidencia en la serranía conexa. Algunas piezas han procedido de sitios en el Callejón de Huaylas. Rasgos de Moche V se han encontrado en el valle bajo y alto del Rímac, en Pativilca, Ica-Nasca, Huancayo y el Callejón de Huaylas. Pero, el estilo Cajamarca III es quizás el de más amplia presencia, primero en los valles interandinos y costeños del norte, como Huamachuco, Chota, Moche y Chicama (Shady y Rosas 1977) y en las vertientes andinas orientales, como es el caso de Cuélap (donde, además, marca al estilo local Pumahuanchina), y, fuera de esta área, en lugares más alejados como Huari y Sicuani en la sierra y Huaura en la Costa Central. Aunque no se dispone todavía de los estudios contextúales suficientes notamos que la expansión simultánea de los varios estilos regionales se manifiesta en el hallazgo en diversos sitios de piezas foráneas de diferentes estilos o en la incorporación de rasgos no ayacuchanos, de distintas procedencias, en ciertos estilos locales; tal es el caso, por ejemplo, de Nievería en la Costa Central, estilo que ubicamos desde fines del Período Intermedio Temprano hasta el Horizonte Medio 2A.
Se distingue por muchas sorprendentes innovaciones tanto de inspiración local como foránea.. .piezas que muestran rasgos en común con los estilos de.. .Chakipampa, Ocros y Nasca 9.. .mantiene muchos temas de diseños.. .que derivan del estilo Lima o Interlocking de la antigua tradición.. .otros tipos foráneos incluyen imitaciones locales del.. .estilo Robles Moqo.. .y de la fase Moche V (Menzel 1968:97-99).
11
Este comportamiento puede notarse hasta en el Horizonte Medio 2A, como está testimoniado en Huamachuco, donde, se encontraron en un mausoleo piezas de cerámica, entre otros materiales, que representan a estilos foráneos: Huaura o Nievería de la Costa Central; Ayapata de Huancavelica; Cajamarca III; Pacheco de la Costa Sur; y otros de la Costa Nor-Central o Norte y una figurilla común a lea, Ayacucho y Cusco). Aunque habían indicios de distribución, la mayoría de estas piezas podrían ser asignadas a los comienzos de la época 2 (Topic y Topic 1983). De modo similar se aprecia aún en el mismo Ayacucho, en el sitio de Azángaro, cercano a Huari, que la alfarería Huamanga del Horizonte Medio 2A “.. .es un estilo con rasgos diversos que vienen de la tradición local previa, de los estilos de prestigio Huari, de los no prestigiosos y de las innovaciones. En Ayacucho la gente en varias regiones continúo produciendo sus vasijas utilitarias de acuerdo a la tradición local.. .y hay imitaciones de formas y decoración no Huari, principalmente de la sierra norte, costa y sierra nor-central, costa y sierra sur” (Anders 1987). Este simultáneo prestigio paralelo y amplia distribución multidireccional de rasgos de varios estilos alfareros regionales, que confluyeron en algunos lugares, se podría correlacionar con la pujanza y distribución que en la época presentan las lenguas aru en la costa y sierra sur, el quechua en el costa y sierra central y nor-central, posiblemente el culle en la sierra norte y el quignam en la costa norte. Por nuestra parte, hallamos que la hipótesis de un “imperio Huari”, a más de no estar suficientemente probada arqueológicamente, entra en contradicción con nuestras conclusiones acerca de las áreas por las que se extendían en esa misma época el quechua y el aru (Torero 1983:66).
Aún cuando esto no implicase eliminar los idiomas y las expresiones culturales de los distintos pueblos sojuzgados, un estado imperial expansivo hubiera impuesto en mayor o menor grado su idioma y su estilo alfarero, además de otros rasgos de su cultura, como ocurrió con el Estado Inca, situación que no se encuentra en el período que tratamos, donde muestran similar prestigio varias lenguas y estilos alfareros con igual poder expansivo.
De allí nuestro planteo de que en el Horizonte Medio 1 y 2 tanto las poblaciones de la costa como de los valles interandinos y del oriente andino tenían sistemas políticos organizados y su área de poder bien definado, que no fue limitado o perturbado por ningún otro estado.
Etapa de integración. Epoca 2: crisis y religiosidad Después del período de prestigio simultáneo y de amplia distribución de Nasca 9, Nievería, Moche V y Cajamarca III, en la época 2 estos estilos empiezan a retraerse y en las zonas donde anteriormente ellos dominaban se introducen But see Morgan, this volume (eds.)
12
rasgos de forma y decoración comunes con la iconografía expuesta en la portada monolítica y otras tallas de Tiahuanaco. En la costa sur y sierra central tales iconos se mezclan con el Panteón Nasca, en una combinación que producen los estilos denominados Pacheco y Conchopata-Robles Moqo, los que destacan por sus grandes vasijas y por el contexto ceremonial, de ofrendas, de su hallazgo, en sitios especialmente preparados—dépositos cubiertos con grandes cantidades de fragmentos de vasijas rotas exprofeso en el sitio. Si recurrimos a esta información sobre el contexto en que aparecen, a la analogía etnográfica y a los datos sobre deterioro del clima, se podría sugerir que las ofrendas tenían relación con rituales de propiciación de lluvias, en un tiempo de crisis climática, que debió sentirse más agudamente en el territorio altoandino, dependiente en gran parte de una agricultura de secano. La presencia de deidades asociadas con diseños decorativos vinculados a la producción agrícola y pecuaria: plantas y frutos variados (papa, maíz, quinua, oca), llamas, graneros, evidenciaría una preocupación por el abastecimiento de alimentos.
Se han encontrado ofrendas en el sitio de Pacheco, en el valle de Nasca; Conchopata en Ayacucho; Ayapata en Huancavelica; Ocoña en Arequipa y Maimi en Pisco. Durante ese tiempo la sociedad Nasca mantuvo sus conexiones, aunque más restringidas, y rasgos de Pacheco se encuentran en Nievería y en la costa central hasta Paramonga, además de su tradicional área de influencia: la sierra central y la costa y sierra sur. Asimismo, Pacheco y Teatino intercambian rasgos.
El impacto de las ideas religiosas relacionadas con la producción y el culto al agua fue tan grande que los principales estilos de la época 2B incorporan estas deidades, como puede apreciarse en la iconografía de Atareo, Pachacámac y Viñaque, ya sea a través de la influencia del estilo Pacheco, del cual toma, además, algunos rasgos y/o mediante nuevas influencias provenientes de Tiahuanaco. La relación iconográfica con este último bien podría haberse producido directamente a través del vehículo de Nasca.
Tiahuanaquización La época 2B es a la que más apropiadamente le corresponde la denominación de “tiahuanacoide”, por la intensa y amplia presencia de los motivos comunes a los que aparecen en la portada monolítica de Tiahuanaco. Estos y otros rasgos de forma y decoración son reproducidos en los estilos de las diversas regiones, a diferencia de la época 1 en que los estilos locales habrían conservado su propia identidad. Este fenómeno muestra una aparente unidad a través de los Andes Centrales: se manifiesta cuando, al parecer, los centros urbanos han perdido gran parte de su dinamismo y, en algunos casos, como el de Cajamarquilla, van siendo abandonados; los estilos alfareros incorporan un conjunto de innovaciones, que están estrechamente vinculados con Tiahuanaco; se cortan o modifican las redes
13
de contacto entre las poblaciones; se contrae la expansión espacial en la que se distribuían los estilos alfareros en múltiples direcciones, por la costa, los valles interandinos y la montaña, como fue en la época 1; se dan más bien en sentido unidireccional con fuerte predominancia costeña.
Destacan en esta época los estilos costeños tiahuanaquizados: Pachacámac, Atareo y Viñaque, que son muy parecidos entre sí; mientras los estilos locales los imitan, dejando de lado tradiciones antiguas y ya perdida su anterior calidad y elegancia. Los diseños religiosos son incorporados también en textiles muy finos, los famosos “tapices del Tiahuanaco Costeño” telas pintadas, gorros tejidos.
Además de lo anotado se puede relievar para esta época lo siguiente: una intensa vinculación entre Atareo y Pachacámac; el prestigio de Pachacámac, expresado en su influencia en lea, en el área Supe-Pativilca y en otros lugares del mundo andino, tal como en Sicán de Lambayeque; el prestigio de dos complejos cerámicos: Teatino en la Costa Central y la cerámica impresa en molde de la costa nor-central; la importancia que adquiere la región de Lambayeque, cuya influencia se deja sentir en la que fuera área Moche; una gran influencia de la costa en Ayacucho. Al respecto es sugestivo investigar al estilo Viñaque que hasta ahora los autores suelen adjudicar a Ayacucho, pero cuyas manifestaciones más conspicuas se han registrado en la costa nor-central (Menzel 1968, 1977). Si procediera del área Huaura-Supe o de otra vecina a ésta, cabría indagar por el significado de su presencia en la sierra central, o viceversa; y, finalmente, determinar si este estilo puede distinguirse efectivamente como una expresión local diferente del Pachacámac.
Se debe verificar también si la costa sustenó centros importantes, aunque de distinto carácter, durante la época 2, una vez producido el abandono de los otrora prestigiosos centros urbanos regionales, como se ha mencionado para Pachacámac y Chimu Capac (Menzel 1968, 1977). Del mismo modo, llamamos la atención a algunas expresiones alfareras costeñas de la costa central y norte que bien podrían corresponder al migrantes llegados a esas tierras en esta época. Recordemos las leyendas alusivas de Tácaynamo y Naymlap. Por las expresiones materiales indicadas, interpretamos que se produjo en la época 2:
a: un fuerte decremento económico en las sociedades ubicadas en los valles del interior, lo que provocó la ruina de las ciudades que florecieron en los lugares de contacto; y
b: el cambio y traslado de los polos de desarrollo en favor de las sociedades costeñas.
14
Ayacucho y la ciudad de Huari No encuentro indicadores arqueológicos de la existencia en Ayacucho de un Estado regional en el período anterior al Horizonte Medio. Ha sido reconocido que .. .la falta de indicadores fundamentales, como instalaciones para las actividades burocráticas, sistemas de registro de información, y sistemas jerarquizados de asentamientos a nivel regional, sugiere la ausencia de un gobierno estatal en Ayacucho durante el Período Intermedio Temprano (Isbell 1985:64).
Hasta el presente no se han presentado evidencias para sustentar afirmaciones que se han venido haciendo del surgimiento de la ciudad de Huari por un proceso autogenerado en Ayesto acucho. Asumen a priori y hacen un manejo inadecuado de la información. Además, no se dispone de los datos necesarios para saber cuál fue la extensión de la ciudad en cada época y qué actividades se desenvolvieron en ella. Asimismo, de cuáles son los datos del previo surgimiento de sociedades de clase y del Estado. Esta falta de estudios se hace notoria en las contradicciones presentadas por los dos principales defensoras del modelo del imperio. Mientras Isbell menciona a Huari como exponente más antiguo de los establecimientos planificados encontrados en otras partes, Lumbreras indica, que .. .no es una ciudad ordenada.. .fue construida sin obedecer a un plan previo, como consecuencia de las necesidades económicas, sociales o políticas y no como consecuencia de un orden planificador (Lumbreras 1982:57).
No obstante, se ha calificado a Huari como la ciudad más grande de Sudamérica, se ha dicho que sus edificios son anteriores a los establecimientos planificados encontrados en otras partes, y se pretende ignorar ciudades como Marcahuamachuco, del Intermedio Temprano. “Antes de Huari no parece que hubieran ciudades en el Perú” (Lumbreras 1982:58). Los restos arquitectónicos identificados en el único corte estratigráfico ana lizado por Knobloch, no son suficientes para inferir el tamaño y características del establecimiento en Huari durante el Período Intermedio Temprano y el Hori zonte Medio 1A; y el sitio de Nawinpuqio, presentado como exponente del urbanismo pre-Huari, tiene componentes pertenecientes al Horizonte Medio. Ayacucho es una zona de pocos recursos agrícolas, de un alto porcentaje de terreno no apto para el cultivo, no generadora de una producción significativa mente excedentaria, con un constante problema de abastecimiento de agua y con frequentes años de sequía. Por si sola no hubiera podido sustentar una ciudad como Huari.
Ya he señalado que en la historia “pre-Huari” de Ayacucho no hallaba condiciones que explicaran el desarrollo local de una ciudad. Por ello, he planteado que Huari creció en base a los beneficios del intercambio, como 15
resultado de la actividad de comerciantes, inicialmente costeños, en el lugar estratégico para sus transacciones con la cuenca del Mantaro, la selva y el sureste serrano. Es posible que por las mismas causas se fortaleció un gobierno local en la cuenca de Ayacucho para controlar ese eje de intercambios; aunque también podría haber funcionado como una ciudad satélite de un estado foráneo. Con una u otra alternativa tal sociedad fue ganada culturalmente por las más desarrolladas de la costa sur, de donde, por lo demás, había estado recibiendo influencias desde el período formativo.
Como ha mostrado Knobloch (1983), la cultura Huarpa de Ayacucho estaba nasquizándose desde las fases Nasca 5 y 6 del Período Intermedio Temprano, influencia costeña que se acentuó en las épocas siguientes, al punto de producirse en Ayacucho los estilos nascoides de Pongora, Totora y Tinajera. Hasta ese tiempo, de acuerdo a Isbell, prevalecía en Ayacucho una organización de base aldeana. Posteriormente, en la época IB del Horizonte Medio, en pleno desarrollo de Huari, la alfarería ayacuchana conocida como Chakipampa expresa a la tradición nasquense—no a la Huarpa—de tal modo que es casi indistinguible de Nasca 9. Parecería que en esta época y en la siguiente, a colegir por la identidad de Nasca 9-Chakipampa y de Pacheco-Conchopata, Nasca y Ayacucho se habían convertido en una misma región, culturalmente, y quizas económica y políticamente nasquizada.
Nos preguntamos, si el tal imperio Ayacuchano existió, ¿por qué en la época 1 distribuyó solamente Chakipampa (Nasca 9) y no Huarpa? ¿y por qué en la época 2, igualmente, distribuyó el estilo más tiahuanacoide—Viñaque—y no Huamanga? En lugar de pensar en una influencia desde Ayacucho, se hace evidente que esta fue en sentido contrario. Más que emitiendo, Ayacucho estaba recepcionando. Huari fue una ciudad artificial que respondió a las relaciones de comercio, cambiada la dirección de éste, dejó de funcionar. Esta u otras hipótesis quedan pendientes de la definición de la naturaleza de la ciudad de Huari; pero la información disponible no sirve de argumento para asignarla como cabeza de un imperio hasta ahora nonato. Las nacionalidades y sus expresiones culturales
La configuración de las diversas nacionalidades tiene en el Perú una larga historia que posiblemente se pierda en los tiempos en que las sociedades escogieron un ambiente para asentarse e iniciaron el proceso de adaptación. Empiezan a expresarse durant el Período Formativo Medio (ca unos 1200-900 a.C.) y alcanzan diversas manifestaciones culturales y políticas con la definición del Estado y las clases sociales (aproximiente 200 a.C. a 200 d.C.). La formación de centros ceremoniales de prestigio a nivel regional o inter regional, de esferas de interacción a diferente escala o de estados expansivos, incluido el imperio incaico, no logró hacer desaparecer a estas nacionalidades, mayormente identificadas por expresiones culturales variadas.
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Un Estado imperial no conlleva, pues, homogeneidad. Incorpora a otras naciones y es, por tanto, multinacional y plurilingüe. Pero, a la par, debe poder encontrarse cierta unidad en la diversidad, cierta impronta común un poco por todas partes dentro del territorio imperial consolidado; unidad en la diversidad que irá acrecentándose cuanto dure el imperio y cuyas expresiones materiales serán para el arqueólogo las únicas que, en ausencia de fuentes escritas, probaran la real existencia de dicho imperio cuando ésta se haya extinguido. El imperio Inca en su expansión ha dejado innegables huellas materiales, que la arqueología reconoce desde el noroeste argentino hasta el Ecuador, principalmente en arquitectura y alfarería. Obviamente, no pudo evitar las expresiones propias de las diversas naciones sojuzgadas, pero ninguna de éstas logró ya ganar prestigio interregional en su beneficio como hasta entonces. Incluso un centro religioso importante como Pachacámac, si bien continuó funcionando y atrayendo feligreses de su antigua área de influencia, pasó a estar controlado por el Estado inca, que instaló allí sus instituciones imperiales, sacerdotes y funcionarios, en el templo del sol, mamaconas, etc. y dejó muestras de su arquitectura y su alfarería, entre otras huellas, al lado de las expresiones culturales locales, con o sin influencia Inca.
La situación en el Horizonte Medio es diferente. En la época IB de la supuesta primera expansión del Imperio, los estilos alfareros regionales no solo conservan su prestigio, sino que muestran amplia distribución interregional y en varias direcciones, no a partir de un único centro: Nievería en Paramonga, Huaura y la sierra de Lima; Nasca 9 en Lima, Huaura, Chachapoyas; Moche V en Supe y Lima; o Cajamarca III en Chachapoyas, Huaura, Ayapata, Huari y Sicuani. En la época 2B, para la cual se ha planteado la mayor expansión imperial después de un período de “reorganización”, se reconoce, sin embargo, el prestigio de centros costeños como el de Pachacámac, el de Moche y el surgimiento de Sicán en Lambayeque; y se observa una fuerta presencia de rasgos tiahuanaquenses, mayormente de imágenes religiosas, que son incorporados en los estilos locales. Los estilos costeños de Atareo (Costa Sur), PachacámacViñaque (Costa Central) alcanzan gran distribución. Piezas de estilo Moche muestran en esta época una combinación híbrida de formas Atareo y decoración puramente Moche o de formas Atareo y decoración con diseños Moche pero con técnica Atareo. También en los restos arquitectónicos se trasluce como las diversas nacional idades dejaron su huella, su propia concepción de la distribución y relación espacial entre sus edificaciones; no hay en las urbes de las varias regiones del Horizonte Medio, como tampoco, en la alfarería, un único patrón o una sola concepción que proceda de Huari o que, allí tenga mayor antigüedad.
Constatamos, pues, tanto en la época 1 como en la 2, no sólo heterogeneidad cultural—que se espera bajo cualquier control político hegemónico (el español no eliminó la diversidad musical, alimentaria, etc)—sino el prestigio amplio de varios estilos y los cruces multidireccionales. Como extensa es la distribución de estilos alfareros no ayacuchanos, igual mente varias lenguas presentan expansiones como expresión de Estados im-
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portantes. Es innegable que un Estado imperial tampoco borrará las varias lenguas existentes en el territorio dominado pero no se esperará encontrar, lo que si ha señalado Torero para el Horizonte Medio, la expansión vigorosa y si multánea de varias lenguas regionales: aru-aymara, puquina, quechua II, quinqnam, mochica, culle, etc., lenguas que se consolidan y extienden por las necesi dades de relación entre las naciones y cuya distribución no implica tampoco la necesaria desaparición de las lenguas locales.
Un imperio utilizará una lengua oficial lo que no impedirá la existencia de otras lenguas, porque la situación no cambia de la noche a la mañana. La imposición de la lengua oficial y de otros patrones culturales estará en relación con el tiempo que dure la dominación, el nivel de desarrollo de los dominados y la intensidad de prevalencia del centro dominante. El Estado Inca— según Torero—en su expansión inicial sobre el área de habla Aymara no requirió de otra lengua que ésta; sólo posteriormente, cuando incorporó las áreas central y norte, recurrió al quechua como lengua de relación ya ampliamente extendida.
El imperio Romano no eliminó a las culturas antiguas, griegas, egipcias. Encontró extendido el griego en el sector oriental mediterráneo y no llegó a desplazarlo, pero tendió a imponer el latín, que la administración romana utilizó en sus dominios.
Es de suponer que un imperio actúa de acuerdo a las características de sus adversarios, su procedimiento será distinto con las organizaciones tribales que con las estatales o imperiales. A diferencias de territorio, nivel de organización del enemigo, clima, etc. se responderá de modo distinto. Cuando los sustentadores del imperio Huari se aferran a la pluralidad lingüística y la diversidad cultural (omitiendo los respectivos prestigios na cionales y las amplias distribuciones arqueológicas y lingüísticas que referimos), se quedan sin argumentos materiales para sustentar su imperio. No tienen ya como probarlo o incorrectamente se remiten a los imperios Inca y Romano para reclamar credibilidad.
Reiteramos una vez más que la heterogeneidad cultural no proporciona pruebas para sostener el imperio, no habiéndose señalado, además, cómo se expresa arqueológicamente la unidad en esa diversidad, que no pudiese ser explicada por el intenso intercambio que sociedades poderosas sostuvieron en el Horizonte Medio. El intercambio en las sociedades andinas
No estoy de acuerdo con el modelo bastante difundido que describe a las sociedades andinas como autosuficientes y que se autoabastecían a través de la movilización de colonias a territorios diferentes para la explotación de recursos no producidos en su habitat. Creemos que la mayoría de naciones en los Andes Centrales tuvieron una organización política y económica diferente a la caracterizada por la reciprocidad y redistribución, y establecían relaciones de
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intercambio entre si para proveerse de los bienes requeridos. El comercio habría sido controlado por la clase dominante y ejercido en su beneficio. En sociedades como la Inca, el Estado tenía participación directa en ese control.
En los datos históricos publicados sobre las sociedades costeñas del siglo XVI se puede apreciar una marcada división del trabajo y la existencia de especialistas en variados oficios, entre los cuales destaca, de modo recurrente, el comerciante o mercader, que no poseía tierras ni pescaba y cuyo oficio era comprar y vender “.. .como es uso y costumbre entre los indios” (Shady 1982:57, 1988). El intercambio, primero conducido a través de las élites sacerdotales (centros ceremoniales del Formativo) y luego directamente por la clase dominante cuando se definen el sistema estatal y las clases sociales a principios de nuestra era, llega al Horizonte Medio con una larga tradición. Los horizontes Temprano y Medio muestran una amplia interacción y la consiguiente generalización de ciertos rasgos sobre la mejor parte del territorio de los Andes Centrales. Pero solamente al Horizonte Medio, no al Temprano, se le ha asignado la existencia de un Estado imperial para explicar tan amplia vinculación, atribuyéndosele, además, logros que se harán evidentes sólo con el imperio Inca, ocho siglos después. Con un criterio igualmente arbitrario se podría aplicar la misma interpretación al Horizonte Temprano y con semejante falta de objetividad científica se estaría hablando de imperio Chavín, al que se adjudicarían rasgos que se encuentran distribuidos entre Pacopampa, Cajamarca y Ayacucho. Desde la segunda parte del período Intermedio Temprano se estaban gestando las condiciones socioeconómicas que llevaron al desarrollo de centros urbanos en la época 1 del Horizonte Medio. Era entonces importante el eje de intercambios Costa/Sierra/Selva y estos centros de comercio se ubicaron en los nudos de caminos en el interior de los valles costeños y en la sierra. En la época 2, este eje se translada a la costa, se modifican las redes de contacto y quiebran los otrora florecientes centros urbanos.
La comunicación entre pueblos y el intercambio fueron estableciéndose en los Andes desde que las sociedades alcanzaron a desarrollar sus fuerzas productivas y debido a la diversidad de sus experiencias culturales, fueron justamente la existencia de nacionalidades diversas con sus respectivas producciones y el intercambio de sus expresiones adaptativas las que incidieron en acelerar el proceso de desarrollo en los Andes Centrales.
Movimiento arcaizante. Resguardo de identidad
Se ha identificado una incorporación de rasgos arcaizantes tanto en Nievería como en Nasca y Moche para la época 1. Los hallazgos efectuados en la costa central, en un caso una botella estribo, encontrada por Stumer en Vista Alegre (Menzel 1968:21, 99), y en el otro un bol, recuperado de las excavaciones que 19
condujimos en Maranga, han sido manufacturados en el estilo Nievería, pero de color negro y con rasgos de diseños y forma pertenecientes al período Formativo. Esta clase de vasijas no es exclusiva a Nievería, Menzel menciona su ocurrencia en entierros de la Fase Moche V en la Costa Norte (Menzel 1968), y nosotros hemos ubicado en el Museo de lea una pieza de estilo Nasca (lea 18, DA 1250) que representa el mismo diseño en una botella de asa lateral y cuerpo lenticular, que asemeja a formas de Nievería.
Estas piezas podrían estar testimoniando un movimiento arcaizante y la vinculación o influencia de Moche V en Nievería, como espresa Menzel; pero también podemos sugerir en base a los rasgos ahora conocidos del Formativo en el sitio de Garagay, que la costa central bien pudo haber generado de su propia tradición tales rasgos arcaizantes, y llevados tanto a la costa norte como al sur. Los hallazgos ponen de manifiesto el arcaísmo y la relación que se daba entre las poblaciones de estas regiones. Y, si verificáramos la autoría de la costa central, tendríamos una prueba más del prestigio alcanzado por las sociedades del Valle de Rímac.
La recuperación de rasgos arcaizantes de la propia tradición cultural, ligada ésta al prestigio que alcanzaron estas expresiones entre diversas sociedades puede interpretarse en base a los acontecimientos que se dieron en el Horizonte Medio 1 como reflejo del esfuerzo realizado de parte de sociedades no sojuzgadas por resguardar su identidad en una época de fuerte interacción cultural y convergencia de objetos, ideas y deidades foráneas.
Conclusiones 1: En el estado actual de la investigación arqueológica no se puede aceptar el modelo de imperio Huari como la única explicación posible al proceso ocurrido en el Horizonte Medio. 2: Con el planteamiento de la existencia de prósperos y expansivos desar rollos sociopolíticos regionales, y del intercambio que éstos sostuvieron puede explicarse bien las características del proceso y la comunidad de ciertos rasgos culturales, especialmente alfareros y arquitectónicos.
3: En la parte final del Período Intermedio Temprano varias sociedades re gionales presentaban economías desarrolladas, construcciones monumen tales, poblaciones crecientes y expansión territorial.
4: La época 1 del Horizonte Medio debe verse como un tiempo de inter cambio intenso y multidireccional entre los diversos Estados andinos re gionales de costa, sierra y selva, en vez de un período dominado por un solo gran imperio. 5: En la época 2, a la par que se retrae la participación de las sociedades regionales en la esfera de interacción, se distribuye en ellas iconos comunes con Tiahuanaco.
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6: Mientras en los períodos Intermedio Temprano y época 1 del Horizonte Medio era importante el eje de intercambios costa, sierra y selva y los centros urbanos se ubicaban en los nudos de caminos, en el interior de los valles costeños y en la sierra; en la época 2 este eje se traslada a la costa, se modifican las redes de contacto y empieza la quiebra de estos centros, a favor del crecimiento de nuevos centros costeños como Pachacámac y Lambayeque.
Bibliográfia Anders, M.B. 1986 Dual Organization and Calendars Inferred from the Planned Site of Azdngaro — Wari Administrative Strategies. University Microfilms In ternational, Ann Arbor.
1987 Wamanga pottery: stylistic innovation and imitation in Middle Horizon epoch 2 ceramics from the planned Wari site of Azángaro, Peru. Informe presentado en el Encuentro “Andean Iconography” de la Society for American Archaeology, Toronto.
Cardich, A. 1975 El fenómeno de las fluctuaciones de los límites superiores del cultivo en los Andes: su importancia. Separata de la Revista Relaciones de la Sociedad Argentina de Antropología XIV(l). Buenos Aires. Czwarno, R.M. 1988 Spatial logic and the investigation of control in Middle Horizon Peru. Separata de Recent Studies in Pre-Columbian Archaeology, dirigido por N.J. Saunders and 0. de Montmollin. Pp 415-456. BAR International Series 421. Isbell, W.H. 1985 El origen del Estado en el Valle de Ayacucho. Revista Andina 3(1):5783. Cusco.
Knobloch, P. 1983 A Study of the Andean Huari Ceramics from the Early Intermediate Period to the Middle Horizon, Epoch 1. University Microfilms Interna tional, Ann Arbor.
Lumbreras, L.G. 1982 El imperio Wari. En Historia del Perú, Tomo II, editado por J. Mejia Baca, pp 9-91 Editorial Juan Mejia Baca, Lima. Lumbreras, L.G., E. Mujica and R. Vera 1982 Cerro Baúl: un enclave Wari en territorio Tiwanaku. Gaceta Arqueológica Andina l(2):4-5.
McEwan, G. 1983 The Middle Horizon in the Valley of Cuzco, Peru: The Impact of the Wari Occupation of Pikillaqta in the Lucre Basin. Doctoral disserta tion, Department of Anthropology, University of Texas at Austin. 21
Menzel, D. 1968 La cultura Huari. Compañía de Seguros y Reaseguros Peruano-Suiza S.A., Lima.
1977 The Archaeology of Ancient Peru and the Work of Max Uhle. R.H. Lowie Museum of Anthropology, University of California, Berkeley. Ruiz Estrada, A. 1969 Alfarería del estilo Huari en Cuélap. Boletín del Seminario de Arque ología 4:60-64. Pontifica Universidad Católica del Perú. Schreiber, K. 1978 Planned Architecture of Middle Horizon Peru: Implications for Social and Political Organization. Doctoral thesis, Department of Anthropol ogy, State University of New York at Binghamton.
1987 Conquest and consolidation: a comparison of the Wari and Inka occupa tions of a highland Peruvian valley. American Antiquity 52(2):266-284.
Shady, R. 1981 Intensificación de contactes entre las sociedades andinas como preludio al movimiento Huari del Horizonte Medio. Boletín del Museo Nacional de Antropología y Arqueología 7:7-9. Lima. 1982 La Cultura Nievería y la interacción social en el mundo andino en la época Huari. Arqueológicas 19:5-108. Lima. 1988 La época Huari como interacción de las sociedades regionales. Revista Andina 11(1):67-133. Cusco. Shady, R. y H. Rosas 1977 El Horizonte Medio en Chota: prestigio de la Cultura Cajamarca y su relación con el “imperio Huari” Arqueológicas 16. Lima. Thatcher, J. 1977 A Middle Horizon IB cache from Huamachuco, north highlands, Peru. Ñawpa Pacha 15:101-110.
Topic, J. y T. Lange Topic 1983 Huamachuco Archaeological Project: Preliminary Report on the Second Season. June-August, 1982. Trent University Press, Peterborough, Ontario. 1986 El Horizonte Medio en Huamachuco. Revista del Museo Nacional XLVIII: 13-52. Lima. Torero, A. 1970 Lingüística e historia de la sociedad andina. Anales Científicos de la Universidad Agraria VIII(3—4). Lima. 1983 La familia lingüística quechua. En América Latina en sus Lenguas Indígenas. UNESCO, Monte Avila Editores.
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Huari administration: a view from the capital Christine C. Brewster- Wray J
This paper analyses the Moraduchayuc compound, an architectural unit located in the site of Wari, in the south central highlands of Peru. The first section of the paper summarises the evidence that led me to interpret the compound as the residence of state administrative personnel, while the remainder discusses what the evidence suggests regarding the activities of these administrators, and their organisation and relationships within the administrative hierarchy. As such, I hope to contribute to our understanding of the nature of Wari administration at the capital. The Moraduchayuc compound comprises about a quarter of a hectare near the architectural core of Wari (figure 1). It is bounded on the north, east and south sides by what appear to be walled streets. Access to the compound is limited to a main entrance in the southern part of the west wall, and three secondary entrances located in the northern part of the west wall and in the north and south walls. The compound is composed of at least seven virtually identical clusters of rooms, or Patio Groups—each consisting of a central patio surrounded by multi-storied galleries or corridors (figure 2). In the northeastern corner of the compound there is a section that contains a rubble-filled platform with associated small rooms (which will be referred to as the Platform Area). Single doorways provide access between each adjacent Patio Group. The Platform Area was only accessible from one Patio Group. The artefactual and architectural evidence suggest that the compound was used as the residence of Wari administrators. That the compound served as the residence of Wari administrators is indicated by the presence of artefacts and features associated with domestic activities. These include items associated with 1: food preparation (cooking vessels, chipped stone and ground stone tools and hearths); 2: food consumption (bowls, cups and cooked camelid bones representing the remains of meals), and 3: storage and the transportation of liquids (jars).
That these residents were administrators is suggested by several lines of evidence. J State University of New York at Binghamton.
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Figure 1:
Architectural plan as revealed by wall trenching and excavation
in the Moraduchayuc sector of Huari.
First, the percentage of individual serving vessels (bowls and cups) in the ceramic assemblage from the compound is higher than would be expected for ordinary domestic refuse. The only comparative example of domestic refuse available, an early component at the Middle Horizon site of Jargampata, contains only 50% individual serving vessels (Isbell 1977), as compared with 70% in the Moraduchayuc compound. In addition, the ceramic assemblage from the compound included large wide-mouthed jars that were used for the fermentation
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PATIO
GROUP
PATIO GROUP B
E
PLATFORM
AREA GROUP
PATIO F
Figure 2:
PATIO GROUP
C
Architectural subdivisions within the Moraduchayuc compound.
and storage of chicha, as well as bottles, narrow-neck jars and pitchers that could have been used for serving chicha or other liquids. These high percentages of vessel forms used for the consumption and serving of food and drink suggest that the occupants of the compound were involved in giving feasts. This in turn supports the interpretation that they were administrators, as both Andean ethnographers and ethnohistorians have noted the importance of feasting as an activity of administrators, who used it as a means of maintaining or re-affirming their relationship with their subjects (Morris 1982; Morris and Thompson 1985). Additional evidence that the occupants of the compound were administrators is the indication that they, and/or the activities they performed, were of at least moderately high status. Although comparative data are lacking, the compound contained a relatively high percentage of elaborate ceramics, as well as a number of luxury items—including chrysacolla, lapis and Spondylus and other marine shell. Some of these luxury items were stored, or comprised offerings that were placed in small pits under the floors of the galleries and patios. In addition,
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about 70% of the chipped stone in the compound is obsidian, as compared with only about 30% in an area of Wari of comparable time period studied by Jane Stone (1983). All of this evidence suggests that the occupants of the Moraduchayuc compound had greater access to luxury or imported items than would be expected for an ordinary household, and therefore implies that these occupants, and/or the activities they carried out, were of moderately high status—attributes that would be expected if they were administrators. A third line of evidence that the occupants of the compound were admin istrators is that the artefacts suggest that they were not directly engaged in any production or manufacturing activities. Virtually all of the artefacts in the compound are finished products—and neither the type nor quantities of tools, debris or features that would be associated with agricultural production or any type of manufacturing were found. Thus, the occupants of the compound were consumers, not producers, of finished products—a feature that is consistent with the interpretation that they were administrators. Finally, there is the architectural evidence that the compound was built to serve in an administrative function. This is indicated by two features: first, that the compound was built using corporate labour; and second, that it was built in the Huari administrative architecture style.
The evidence that the compound was built using corporate labour is that it was built according to a formal plan, as indicated by the standardised room shapes and sizes in the Patio Groups—as well as their regular arrangement. In addition, although there were two periods of construction in the compound, the pattern of wall bondings indicates that both the original construction and the later addition were each built as a single unit. The irregularities in the arrangements of rooms in the later addition appear to be the unintentional result of attempting to accommodate rectangular rooms in a trapezoidally-shaped area.
During the Middle Horizon a number of sites were built in the highlands of Peru (Jincamocco, Pikillacta, Viracochapampa). They are, to a greater or lesser extent, distinct from the local architectural styles, and share the common feature of planned rectangular enclosures. These enclosures were constructed as' single structures which contain, as a major component, the repetition of architectural units consisting of a patio surrounded by multi-storied galleries. On the basis of this evidence a number of researchers have argued that these sites represent intrusive regional administrative facilities associated with the expansion of the Wari state, and represent the Wari administrative architectural style (Isbell and Schreiber 1978; Schreiber 1978). If this interpretation is correct, then this suggests that the Moraduchayuc compound—which shares with those sites the features of the Wari administrative architectural style, as well as various architectural details—was built to serve some administrative function. However, even if this particular argument is incorrect, the artefacts associated with the Moraduchayuc compound, and the fact that it was built using corporate labour, suggest that this compound was built and used as the residence of Wari administrators. 26
Most of the excavated rooms in the Patio Groups contain dumps, rather than floor deposits that could have provided evidence regarding the specific functions of the rooms. Analysis of the artefacts in the dumps suggests that the progressive or gradual abandonment of the compound began late in Middle Horizon IB or early in Middle Horizon 2, and continued well into Middle Horizon 2. The order of Patio Group abandonment appears to be related to the general accessibility of the Patio Groups. That is, in each instance the abandoned Patio Group was the one with the fewest number of occupied Patio Groups directly accessible to it, and was also the furthest from the entrance/exit of the compound. In addition, each of these abandoned Patio Groups was used as a dump site for refuse generated within the remaining occupied areas of the compound. As a result, while the material from the dump deposits provides information about the types of activities carried out in the compound as a whole, it is of little worth in determining the uses to which the different rooms were put. However, in spite of these difficulties, I believe the evidence suggests that each Patio Group was a single residential unit which was occupied by an administrator (or an administrator and his family). The structure of the compound is such that it contains three levels of nested architectural units. These are the compound itself, the Patio Groups and the galleries within each Patio Group. The definition of each of these levels is based on access patterns within the compound. That the compound itself is a unit is indicated by the fact that it only had one main entrance/exit. The next level of architectural unit or grouping is the individual Patio Group. Each Patio Group opens onto those adjacent to it through a single doorway—so the access patterns do not create groupings of two or more Patio Groups. Finally, each gallery in a Patio Group is a unit because, while each gallery accesses a patio, it is extremely rare for there to be direct access between adjacent galleries in the same Patio Group. Given these three levels of nested architectural groupings, it is possible that any one could have represented a single residential unit or household. In order to determine which level was the most likely to represent a single residential unit, I have made the following assumption—the single residential unit would correspond to that level at which there is a duplication of activities or functions between the units, but a diversity of activities within each unit.
Regarding the architecture of the Moraduchayuc compound, the level at which this occurs is the single Patio Group. That is, the Patio Groups have very similar sizes, architectural plans and ratios of roofed gallery space to unroofed patio space. As such, each Patio Group is essentially an architectural duplicate of every other Patio Group in the compound. This is not the pattern that would be expected if the compound contained only one residence, or several residences composed of two or more Patio Groups. The most effective and efficient means of organising space would have been not to duplicate and disperse similar activities and functions among the Patio Groups, but to use different sections for different functions (such as having one area for long-term storage, another for cooking and others for public activities, such as feasting). However, since each of these different activities or functions has distinct spatial requirements (for example, 27
storage requires roofed space while feasting requires open patio space), the replicated architectural plans of the Patio Groups suggest that there was, in fact, a duplication and interspersion of similar activities throughout the compound, and thus, that the residential units in the compound were either the single Patio Group or the gallery. Just as the architecture implies that residential units were no larger than the single Patio Group, it also suggests that there was no more than one residence in each Patio group. That is, in contrast to the compound as a whole, which is composed of duplicate architectural units (the Patio Groups) suggesting a replication of similar activities or functions among these units, the Patio Groups are not composed of duplicate architectural units. In particular, while each Patio Group contains a number of galleries, examination of them reveals that no two galleries within any Patio Group are the same. They are either of different lengths, subdivided into different numbers of rooms, or—in those galleries divided into the same number of rooms—the rooms are of considerably different sizes. Therefore, the architecture expresses the internal diversity that would be expected if each Patio Group represented a single residential unit in which the occupants were using different areas of the Patio Group for different functions or activities, rather than the architectural repetitiveness that would be expect if, for example, each gallery had been a residential unit. The architectural evidence suggesting that each Patio Group was a single residential unit is consistent with the distribution of hearths within the com pound. Ethnographic descriptions of Andean house compounds that contain more than one household (or residential unit) indicate that the most typical pattern is to have separate houses and kitchens for each household. Even in the few cases in which different households occupy separate rooms in the same house, it is extremely rare for two households to share a kitchen or hearth (Brush 1977; Miskin 1946; Tschopik 1946). This suggests that the number and distri bution of hearths within the Moraduchayuc compound should be of significance in reconstructing the number and distribution of residential units within it.
Unfortunately, because only six of the galleries and five of the patios were sampled through excavation, the information on the number and distribution of hearths in the compound is incomplete. Nevertheless, the distribution of the hearths that were found is consistent with the interpretation that each Patio Group represented a single residential unit. Three hearths were found in the excavations in the compound. They are located in the east gallery of Patio Group B, the west gallery of Patio Group C, and the east gallery of Patio Group G. That these hearths are in three different Patio Groups indicates that there was a duplication or interspersion of activities among the Patio Groups, and thus is consistent with the architectural evidence that each Patio Group was a residential unit. In addition, three of the excavated galleries did not contain hearths, and although there were only two Patio Groups in which more than one gallery was excavated, there are no examples of more than one hearth in a Patio Group. As such, this evidence is consistent with the
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interpretation that each Patio Group contained a single residential unit, rather than each gallery being a residential unit.
In conclusion, I have argued that the evidence for domestic activities, the elaborate ceramics and luxury goods, the high percentages of serving vessels and the architecture of the Moraduchayuc compound all suggest that it was used as the residence of state administrators. In addition, the architectural structure of the compound and distribution of hearths suggest that each Patio Group was occupied by an administrator (or an administrator and his family). In the next section I will attempt to move beyond this functional description of the Moraduchayuc compound to a discussion of what can be inferred regarding the administrative responsibilities of the occupants, and their relationship to each other and to the Wari state.
While the nature of archaeological data makes it difficult to reconstruct the types of activities carried out by administrators, there are several attributes of the Moraduchayuc compound that suggest certain inferences regarding the administrative responsibilities of the occupants. One such inference is that the occupants of the compound were involved in administering people, rather than being involved exclusively in the collection, management or storage of information (such as accountants, record-keepers or clerks). This is suggested by the high percentage of serving vessels in the compound, indicating that these administrators were involved in giving public feasts for individuals who were their followers, or under their authority. It seems unlikely that the followers—or those under the authority of the residents of the Moraduchayuc compound—were agriculturists or craft specialists. That is, although there is evidence that the galleries in the compound were used for storage, they seem rather small for the requirements of storing agricultural produce, or the raw materials, tools and/or finished products of craft-specialists. Also, there is no artefactual evidence of such storage in the compound. The frequencies of storage jars are quite low—and the raw materials and types of tools used in manufacturing activities are also quite rare or absent within the compound. An area that appears to have been used for the manufacture of chrysacolla and shell artefacts was found just to the north of the compound, but the dating of the ceramics from this area indicates it was abandoned in Middle Horizon IB—and thus before, or at least not long after the construction of the Moraduchayuc compound, which was occupied well into Middle Horizon 2. However, the possibility that the individuals under the authority of the Moraduchayuc administrators were craftsmen or agriculturists cannot be totally rejected—as it is possible that the items required to be stored for these activities were kept somewhere outside the compound itself.
Rather than postulate the existence of such storage facilities outside the compound, however, it seems more likely that the administrative responsibilities of the Moraduchayuc occupants were such as did not require such large amounts of storage. One such possibility is that they were involved in the administration of other, lower level, administrators. Such an interpretation would account for the absence of artefacts—such as tools or finished items—identifying any specific
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economic or productive activities under their direct administrative control. In addition, the amount of patio space available to each of the Moraduchayuc administrators for feasting their followers is relatively small (the patios measure only 9 by 10 meters). It seems improbable that these relatively small patios could have accommodated large groups—such as communities of agriculturists, craft-specialists or corvée labourers—but they would have been sufficient for smaller groups, such as groups of lower level administrators.
The architectural structure of the Moraduchayuc compound also suggests some interesting possibilities regarding the relationships between the adminis trators. Herbert Simon describes hierarchy in the following manner: In application to the architecture of complex systems, ‘hierarchy’ simply means a set of Chinese boxes of a particular kind. A set of Chinese boxes usually consists of a box enclosing a second box, which, in turn encloses a third—the recursion continuing as long as the patience of the craftsman holds out. The Chinese boxes called ‘hierarchies’ are a variant of that pattern. Opening any given box in a hierarchy discloses not just one new box within, but a whole small set of boxes (Simon 1973:5).
It is probably no coincidence, therefore, that the Moraduchayuc compound, which was built by the state as the residence of administrators, should have a structure that mirrors this characteristic structure of hierarchies. That is, from one perspective Moraduchayuc can be seen as an architectural unit which is distinct from other compounds at the site. Architecturally, this is expressed by the presence of only one main entrance to the compound, and that this was built as a single unit. The unity of the compound, and its residents, may also be indicated by the Platform Area in the northeastern corner of the compound. The Platform Area appears to have been used for ritual activities. This is indicated by the presence of a high, rubble-filled platform, at least 5 meters high, as well as the high frequency of luxury goods and elaborate ceramics in this area. Features and artefacts associated with domestic activities are absent, and the percentages of individual serving vessels are even higher than in the Patio Groups—suggesting that feasting was carried out as part of, or in association with, ritual activities carried out in this area. The Platform Area is located at the rear of the compound, as far from the main entrance as was possible. This suggests that use of the Platform Area was restricted to the occupants of the compound. As such, the Platform Area could have functioned as a ritual focus for the occupants of the compound, emphasising their identity as a group, as well as their distinctiveness from those outside the compound.
Therefore, if the architectural structure of the compound is a concrete expression of the relationships between the administrators, this suggests that the occupants of the compound were not just a random collection of administrators. Rather, it indicates that they may have been linked together as a group because they administered the hierarchically equivalent subdivisions of a higher administrative unit. While it is not possible to be more specific about the nature of these subdivisions, or about the higher administrative unit, it does suggest 30
that the occupants of the compound were middle-level administrators. As such, I imagine the situation in the compound as being structurally analogous to something like the residence of all the community leaders of a district.
Up to this point, I have discussed the relationship of the administrators to those they administered and to each other. What remains to be discussed is what can be inferred regarding the relationship of these administrators to the state. In any state, as Eisenstadt (1961, 1963) has illustrated, there exists a potential for a power struggle between the head of the state and other loci of power, prestige and authority in the society. That is, the head of state, or ruler, in order to implement his goals and orientations, needs to create or bring powerful members of the society into the orbit of the central political institutions, and thus ensure their loyalty to, and dependence on, him. However, those individuals that the ruler has promoted to positions of power—such as bureaucrats— may attempt to gain independent power or resources by (for example) using their offices for self-aggrandisement or by granting favours to particular social groups. Likewise, influential groups with independent power bases—such as the traditional aristocracy—have the resources and prestige to oppose or resist attempts by the ruler to centralise power. In this light, it is of some interest to examine what the evidence suggests regarding the independence or dependence of the Maraduchayuc administrators on the state.
There are some characteristics of the Moraduchayuc administrators which could have given them some potential for an independent power base. First, the evidence suggests that the Moraduchayuc administrators were in charge of a particular group of people. As such, they potentially had access to resources and/or labour from their followers—and therefore would not have been dependent on the state to supply these needs. Secondly, these administrators were living in close proximity to each other, and thus could have gained some independence by sharing information—and potentially making decisions— without having to interact through some higher official. Finally, it is possible that these administrators had prestige that was independent of their connection or association with the state. In 16th century Peru caves, or natural holes in the ground, often had sacred or ritual associations. The Moraduchayuc compound was built directly on top of a cut stone structure—or temple—which had been built in a large natural depression in the bedrock. Therefore, it is possible that the occupants of the compound were associated in some fashion with this sacred location—and thus had prestige and legitimation for their authority that was independent of the state. However, although these factors could imply a considerable degree of inde pendence of these administrators from the state, I believe a more comprehensive examination of the evidence suggests that they were, in fact, extremely depen dent on the state. In particular, the evidence suggests that the occupants of the compound were full-time administrators, and were not engaged in economic activities that could have provided them with resources independently from the state. First, it is highly unlikely that the occupants of the compound owned, or had rights to, agricultural or herding lands. This is suggested first by the location of the compound, which is near the centre of the architectural core of
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Huari—and thus distant from either of these types of land. In addition, the absence of agricultural implements or large-scale storage facilities in the com pound suggests that the occupants were neither involved in the working of, or the storage of products from, such land. Similarly, the absence of quantities of tools, raw materials or finished products—other than would be required for domestic uses, feasting or individual status markers—suggests the occupants’ lack of direct involvement in other economic activities such as manufacturing or trade. Yet despite this lack of evidence for their direct involvement in the production or procurement of such items, these administrators were well sup plied with food, finished tools and luxury goods, suggesting that their needs were supplied through the state, rather than through their independent access to such items. Additionally, there is even some doubt that the occupants of the compound had direct control over the food and drink served in their feasts which were a vital aspect of their administrative obligations. That is, the compound does not contain a large number of storage jars—which suggests that such food-stuffs may have been stored by the state in some other location, and allocated to these administrators, as the need arose.
Additional evidence of these administrators’ dependence on the state, or their subordination of whatever power, prestige or authority they might have had to the state, is the compound itself. First, that the compound was built by the state suggests that these administrators were dependent on the state, or the authority they derived from their association with the state, to recruit the resources and labour necessary to construct the compound. Secondly, that these administrators were living in an architecturally distinctive, state-constructed compound, rather than in independent dwellings architecturally tailored to each resident’s independent specifications, expresses to their followers—or to any outsider—an identification of the occupants’ power, prestige and authority with that of the state. Finally, that the state constructed this compound over a sacred location (the cut-stone temple), suggests that any prestige or legitimation of authority that derived from association with this location had become identified with—or subordinated to—that of the state. In conclusion, while the elaborate ceramics, luxury goods, presence of the rubble-filled platform and the evidence for feasting indicate that the occupants of the compound had at least a moderately high level of power, prestige and authority—the evidence suggests that, to a degree, these attributes derived from association with (or had been subordinated to) the state. Thus, at least in the case of the administrators, the rulers of the Wari state had achieved a level of centralised administration that could have been used as a base for extending administrative control over more distant territories.
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Bibliography: Brush, S. 1977 Mountain, Field and Family: The Economy and Human Ecology of an Andean Village. University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia. Eisenstadt, S.N. 1961 The causes of disintergration and fall of empires. Diogenes 34:82-107. 1963 The Political Systems of Empires. The Free Press of Glencoe, New York. Isbell, W.H. 1977 The Rural Foundation for Urbanism: Economic and Stylistic Interac tion between Rural and Urban Communities in Eighth Century Peru. University of Illinois Press, Urbana. Isbell, W.H. and K.J. Schreiber 1978 Was Huari a state? American Antiquity 43(3):372-389. Mishkin, B. 1946 The contemporary Quechua. In Handbook of South American Indians, Volume II, edited by J.H. Steward, pp. 411-470. Cooper Square Publishers, New York. Morris, C. 1982 The infrastructure of Inka control in the Peruvian Central Highlands. In The Inca and Aztec States, 1400-1800, edited by G.A. Collier, R.I. Rosaldo and J.D. Wirth, pp. 153-171. Academic Press, New York. Morris, C. and D.E. Thompson 1985 Hudnuco Pampa: An Inka City and its Hinterland. Thames and Hudson, London. Schreiber, K.J. 1978 Planned Architecture of Middle Horizon Peru: Implications for Social and Political Organization. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Depart ment of Anthropology, State University of New York at Binghamton. Simon, H. 1973 The organization of complex systems. In Hierarchy Theory, edited by H. Pattee, pp. 3-27. George Braziller, New York. Stone, J. 1983 The Socio-Economic Implications of Lithic Evidence from Huari, Peru. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Anthropology, State University of New York at Binghamton. Tschopik, H. 1946 The Aymara. In Handbook of South American Indians, Volume II, edited by J.H. Steward, pp. 501-573. Cooper Square Publishers, New York.
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Evidence for the dual socio-political organisation and administrative structure of the Wari state Martha B. Anders J The analysis of settlement patterns—site distribution, intersite spatial relations, and intrasite composition and layout—is one of the most frequently used means for reconstructing prehistoric socio-political organisation. This is especially true for investigations of the Middle Horizon (ca. A.D. 550-1000) Wari state of the central Andean highlands. There, the introduction throughout the highlands of planned “urban centres”, comprised of “Wari-style” enclosures, has been interpreted as an indicator of Wari as a conquest state. Indeed, from the very presence and distribution of planned settlements, Wari has been assumed to be a highly centralised and bureaucratised polity, one characterised also by craft specialisation, and a marked urban-rural dichotomy and conflict (Benavides 1984; Isbell 1977; Isbell and Schreiber 1978; Lumbreras 1980; McEwan 1984; Schreiber 1987; Spickard 1983). Despite the importance of investigating the network of planned intrusive Wari centres, most of our studies of these settlements have been restricted largely to surface reconnaissance and notation of formal architectural characteristics. Functional investigations are recent and relatively few. Their results have been largely ambiguous with respect to administrative activities and organisation.
In an effort to define administrative organisation within the Wari heartland, Isbell and Schreiber (1978) compiled data on Middle Horizon sites in the Ayacucho Basin and determined that there were three modes of site size. They assumed that site size reflects the number and kind of administrative functions and different modes of site size denote administrative ranks. Thus, they posited a three-tiered administrative hierarchy in the Ayacucho Basin. While the analysis of site size may give some definition to socio-political and economic organisation, the link to state administrative functions and hierarchy is yet elusive. We have little concrete evidence of what administrative functions were carried on at each of the three levels. And we lack sufficient data to consider probable changes over the four hundred years during which the Wari state appears to have developed (Anders 1979:25-28). If we are to elucidate the character of Wari administrative organisation, we must consider more than just the existence of planned installations and a three tiered hierarchy of settlements. In the case of planned centres specifically, we
| Research Associate, Department of Anthropology Trent University, and PostDoctoral Fellow The Calgary Institute for the Humanities 35
must address functional, regional, and temporal differentiation. To do so, the body of comparative data on planned sites must be expanded and improved. To this end, research was carried out from 1978 to 1980 at Azangaro, a planned Wari installation near the present-day town of Huanta, in the central Andean department of Ayacucho (figure 1). The site lies 15 km northwest of the site of Wari, in the lower, northern end of the Ayacucho Basin, in the Huanta Valley which is agriculturally the richest part of the basin and which is the source of valuable textile and ceramic resources as well. The site is also at the crossroads of several communication routes leading to other productive zones and valued resources. Azangaro is one of several Middle Horizon, Wari settlements in the basin, but one of only a few planned centres.
Figure 1: Location of Azangaro.
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Azángaro contributes valuable comparative data since the site is the only planned installation (besides individual buildings at Wari) to be excavated within the Ayacucho Basin. It is intermediate in size among planned centres (7.8 ha. as compared to Jargampata which covers less than one hectare, or Pikillaqta that covers 46 ha.). Its tripartite configuration is distinct from any other planned Wari centre. And, as it turned out, it appears to have been built and occupied later than many planned centres and its function was highly specialised (Anders 1986a). Azángaro is well situated on a broad plain in the valley bottom, near the Cachi River, at 2,390 m. above sea level (figure 2). Two irrigation canals, built contemporaneously with the site, watered fields on the plain around the site and took water to the settlement itself. Irrigation makes cultivation of the plain possible in this otherwise dry valley bottom. There are also indications that ravines to the north and south were terraced and cultivated, probably at the same time. It would appear that among the reasons for founding Azángaro in this locale was the facilitation and overseeing of the expansion of irrigation networks and cultivable lands in the valley bottom. The zone is favourable for the cultivation of maíz morocho, a variety of corn used for meals made of the ground corn and for chicha, a fermented drink. Maize was a crop of great prestige during the late Prehispanic period and probably much earlier. It is today, and was then, a crucial ingredient in all economic, socio-political, and ritual interaction in the Andes (Morris 1979; Murra 1960). It is reasonable to suggest that these lands were devoted to the cultivation of this highly-valued crop.
Azángaro presents a striking image in its grid-like regularity (figure S'). It comprises a rectangular enclosure which covers an area of 7.8 ha. and which is divided into three architecturally distinctive sectors. Access into and within the site is tightly controlled and channelled. The layout and differentiation in the use of space elicit numerous expectations about site functions, particularly in the context of the prevailing model of the Wari state. Many who had examined the site map, including the author, predicted that excavations would show that the court-cum-gallery units of the North Sector were elite or military housing, that the conjoined rooms of the Central Sector were storehouses, and that the large, open enclosures of the South Sector were probably corrals or processing areas. Throughout various stages of the work at Azángaro, little of what was expected was found. For one, there were two zones of irregular buildings inside the enclosure and in and around the entry to the site. The use of space and concept of planning stand in stark contrast to those of the formally laidout installation, as if out of place and time. Yet, not only were these built and occupied contemporaneously with the formal installation, but also they contained more luxury goods and housed the paramount authorities at the site. Secondly, there were no indications of specialised activities at the site. Rather, the remains represent generalised domestic activities in regular and irregular buildings alike. Especially surprising was the presence of agricultural tools,
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Figure 2: Location of Azângaro in the Huanta Valley bottom.
evidence of a primary economic activity assumed to have been divorced from this kind of “administrative”, “urban-like” centre. Finally, there was a near absence of remains in the North Sector. Despite this picture of “sameness”, people at the site may be differentiated according to their status and general responsibilities. An exception to diffused, household-level production occurs in the handling of food and drink. Variation 38
MN
o
so
" Excavations
Limits of Irregular Buildings
Figure 3: Plan of Azángaro.
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in the frequencies and proportions of different vessel forms, in the number and density of hearths, and in the quantity and density of osteological remains, allows differentiation of the level and context of preparation and consumption in four complexes that were fully excavated. On this basis, together with the location and form of housing, the association of households with apparent control checkpoints, the general density of remains and probable term of residence (permanent or temporary), access to status goods, prestige pottery, and ritual objects, and the relationship of households within the site to canals and field systems of the surrounding plain, four groups of people may be distinguished (see Anders 1986a, 1986b for details.)
One group comprised occupants of the irregular building Complexes I and II. These seem to have been preeminent in status and apparent authoritative functions at the site. These homes were the most spacious of the irregular complexes and they received somewhat more architectural elaboration. They exhibit evidence of the consumption of food and drink at a supra-household level; notably the heaviest drinking took place in these buildings. Those living there enjoyed the greatest access of anyone at the site (in irregular or regular buildings) to luxury goods of exotic or precious materials and fine, prestige, imported pottery. And, by virtue of their strategic placement in the entry to the site and adjacent to the point of access to the Central Sector, appear to have controlled critical points of access to the site.
Households of somewhat lesser authority resided in special units at the south end of the Central Sector where they apparently controlled and supervised access to the rest of the sector. It is here that we also find evidence of the supra household preparation, serving, and consumption of food, but apparently not drink. Perhaps the households here provisioned those occupying the remaining rooms of the Central Sector. A support population of lesser status resided in the remaining irregular buildings like Complex III. These households appear to have been largely self-contained with respect to the preparation, serving, and consumption of food and were engaged in a full range of domestic activities. Finally, several households of lower status yet resided in the remaining large rooms of the Central Sector, apparently on a short-term, rotational basis. Overall, the population of the site was small—perhaps 100-150 people on a full-time basis and 50 more on a rotational basis at any given time. On the basis of stratigraphic, architectural, midden, ceramic, and radiometric data (A.D. 760±75 [Beta-1876], A.D. 880±50 [Beta-1874], A.D. 990±65 [Beta-1875]), the occupation appears to have been neither long nor intensive, lasting perhaps 100 years, during late Epoch 2. At this stage of analysis and interpretation, one still has little sense of what was administrative about the site and why it had been built. The site seems too elaborate an installation simply to have housed those engaged in supervision and cultivation of the fields that were established on the plain around Azangaro. It has been argued that small sites like Jargampata fulfilled such a function (Isbell 1977), but they did so without such ample and regimented housing as well as such strictly controlled traffic. Furthermore, there are a number of details of the
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installation that are puzzling. These occur primarily in the Central Sector—the number and arrangement of large and small rooms, the distribution of regular sized and crawl-through doors, the distribution and stage of installation of water conduits and surface drains, and the special coupling of large and small rooms at the south end of the sector. As well, it seems odd that there were so few remains at all in the North Sector and that the principal authorities at the site resided in irregular, rather than regular, buildings. One can make sense of these puzzling aspects of the site and illuminate the archaeological remains once one places them in the context of the larger Andean tradition by drawing on analogies to institutions and practices documented for later times. Burgeoning research on the Inka state and other late, protohistoric states, as well as on contemporary, traditional, highland communities is changing our view of Andean society considerably. Continuities in beliefs and practices deeply embedded in Andean culture have been traced and more and more models of organisational principles and administrative institutions have been formulated. While some archaeologists are using these increasingly, both explicitly and implicitly, to interpret archaeological materials, there is still a marked reluctance among us to draw on either ethnohistoric or ethnographic data for models or analogues in the interpretation of Precolumbian remains. While the use of analogy is an admittedly risky procedure, it is appropriate and desirable when there is a demonstrable historical continuity, and when there is a substantial body of data with good contextual information that makes possible the detailed, contextual comparisons that are necessary to analogy. Moreover, since analogy to sixteenth-century Andean life is being used to elucidate contemporary Andean life and vice versa, it is just as appropriate to take analogy in the opposite direction. Reconstructions of sixteenth-century institutions might be projected back in time the 600 or 700 years to the Middle Horizon Wari state and data from Wari sites tested against these models. Most importantly, the inferences made on this basis are amenable to testing and elucidation through further fieldwork. Furthermore, such an approach might open doors to understanding new dimensions of Wari socio-political and ideological organisation. Through analogy, then, three principal arguments concerning Azângaro may be put forward:
1: that the site was founded primarily as a ceremonial centre in which two calendars and ritual cycles were regulated; 2: that authority at the site was dual, operating on a rule of reciprocity; 3: that the site was probably the capital of one of four provinces into which the Wari heartland appears to have been reorganised in Middle Horizon Epoch 2.
While the first of these inferences will not be addressed in detail here, the implications of the ritual focus of the site for our characterisation of Wari administration will be considered in the conclusion to this discussion. (See
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Anders [1986a, 1986b] for a full presentation of this argument.) Instead, the focus will be on the second two arguments which directly address Wari socio political organisation and administrative structure. Two households at the site were preeminent—Complexes I and II. Of the two households, that in Complex II enjoyed a slightly higher status and exercised more authority. While it might be tempting to identify one of these two complexes as the residence of the sole authority at Azângaro, it is difficult to ignore the long tradition of dual socio-political organisation in the Andes, from at least late Prehispanic times to the present day. We know from ethnographic and ethnohistoric studies that the prevailing form of socio-political organisation in the Andes is dual (see, for example, Albo et al. 1972; Arguedas 1964; Isbell 1978; Mitchell 1972; Murra 1967, 1968; Netherly 1984; Palomino Flores 1971; Zuidema 1964, 1982, 1983). In late Prehispanic times, large and small polities alike were organised on a dual basis, into ranked moieties, each under its own lord. The two lords were considered equal though not identical in privileges and responsibilities. Their authority rested on perceived reciprocal relations which they celebrated and marked with displays of hospitality. These dual systems had their physical manifestations in the spatial separation and localisation of moieties, the separation of irrigation and field systems, and separate reciprocal networks and feasting locales.
An appreciation of this tradition of dual organisation in the Andes gives one a different perspective on the remains at Azângaro and indications there of status differentiation and authoritative functions. It seems more appropriate to interpret the remains as a reflection of dual organisation and the presence of two lords. As in these later cases, aspects of spatial organisation, together with the apparent responsibilities borne by the families in Complexes I and II, are suggestive of such dual organisation. Complex II, together with two or three other complexes, is located inside the enclosure wall, while Complex I, along with one or two other residential complexes, is located outside the site enclosure. Those residing in Complex II fed and gave drink to visitors and residents of the site in probable public displays of hospitality inside the site, while those in Complex I did so outside the site. Both may have done so in exchange for labour services in connection with agricultural and calendrical activities. Those in Complex II controlled access to the Central Sector from within the site, while those in Complex I controlled access to the site as a whole from outside the site. Finally, it is likely that Complexes I and II were each responsible for one of the two canals and field systems on the plain outside Azângaro. Since the two canals unnecessarily duplicate one another and given the many examples from later periods of the association of moieties with their own irrigation and field systems, it is probable that the two lords and those in their moieties maintained and operated their own canals and cultivated separate field systems. Significantly, one canal entered the site and crossed the South Sector subterraneously, passing near Complex II, while the other remained outside the site.
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If dual organisation did obtain at the site, and it if is indicative of Wari administrative organisation in general, then there are serious questions raised about the degree to which it is appropriate to characterise Wari as a highly centralised, bureaucratised, and even economically specialised state. Also, one must ask to what degree authority rested on the threat of force. Dual systems of the late Prehispanic period were decentralizing in tendency (Netherly 1984). They emphasised horizontal, interdependent relations, not hierarchical ones. Lords are equal but not identical. Large-scale polities tended to rely on local-level lords and traditional reciprocal networks to maintain integration, thus obviating the need for a large corps of full-time bureaucrats. Moreover, dual systems thus tolerated a high degree of autonomy. At Azángaro, this autonomy was reflected in the lords’ use of their own architectural style in their residences, the use of their own elite and utilitarian pottery, their adoption of prestigious vessel forms from other areas, eschewing Wari ones. Duality and reciprocity do not preclude centralisation and bureaucratisation and the assurance of authority through the threat of force. All are present by definition in a state and suggested by Wari expansion into other highland territories. Rather, it is the degree to which both prevailed in the Wari state that is questioned here.
The reciprocal basis to socio-political relations entailed an emphasis on households as equal, comparable, repetitive economic units. Each was to be essentially self-sufficient (Murra 1980; Netherly 1984). The lords of Azángaro were not full-time bureaucrats, nor full-time calendar/ritual specialists. They engaged in a range of activities including agriculture. To fulfil his lordly obligations of hospitality and generosity, the household of the paramount lord appears to have received help in preparing food and drink. This picture is substantially different from the model of the Wari state which proposes a corps of bureaucrats supported by state storage and redistribution. Azangarinos produced food to feed themselves and, beyond that, the small corps of residents in the Central Sector who probably came to the site for brief shifts in a manner similar to the mit’a, or corvée labour groups, of later proto-historic times. The specialised activities and administered production, which the model of the Wari state assumes, were probably true of the site of Wari. But even there, we know so little yet of the context of production. Were specialists full-time, fully supported by the state? Were they part-time, fully or partially supported? Were they seasonal, partially supported? I suspect that craft specialisation and bureaucratisation were not so widespread as generally assumed and that households were encouraged to remain self-sufficient. Included in this model of “under-specialisation” would be calendrical activities. In the Andes, there is a tradition of awkis, wise, older, experienced men who preserve and hand down traditions and knowledge. Among their areas of expertise is a systematic knowledge of the local ecosystem. They know what to plant, when to plant, how to plant, where to plant, and they known how to regulate these agricultural activities by observing different signs in nature, both terrestrial and celestial. It is suggested that the lords of Azángaro were likewise well enough versed in calendrics and agricultural knowledge that they supervised these activities there.
43
Finally, in considering where Azángaro fit into spatial, temporal, and functional variability of planned Wari centres, it was found that the use of analogy could shed light on the overall development and organisation of administration in the Wari heartland. The key to that reconstruction was the proximity of this probable calendrical centre to the snow-capped peak Rasuwillka (figure 4). Rasuwillka is today the home of the superior wamani or mountain deity of the Ayacucho and Rio Pampas Basins (Earls 1973:400; Isbell 1978:151; Morissette and Racine 1973:171). Wamanis control rains and fertility. There are three other major wamanis in this area: Qarawarasu, Ampay, and Apacheta. These same four snow-capped peaks are listed in the early 17th-century text of Guarnan Poma (1980[1615]:f.275) as the chief wamanis or shrines of these two river basins. It is probably not coincidental that we find at least two major planned Wari sites—Azángaro and Jincamocco—in close proximity to two of these peaks.
While the cosmological dimensions of wamani cults are better known (Arriaga 1920(1621]: Chapter 2; Favre 1967; Isbell 1978; Martinez 1983; Morissette and Racine 1973; Murúa 1964(1913]: Chapters 19, 31; Quispe 1969; Zuidema 1973, 1982), these cults do have critical territorial and socio political dimensions as well. Today, families, moieties, communities, valleys, and regions owe allegiance to and identify themselves with certain mountain peaks and wamanis. Wamanis are ranked, and hierarchies of wamanis are said to mirror human socio-political hierarchies (Earls 1973:401; González and Rivera 1983:22-23; Isbell 1978:59, 151; Martinez 1983:100; Morissette and Racine 1973:182). In the 16th century, Inka conquests were voiced in terms of vanquishing wamanis and the Inkas took over the term wamani to designate their administrative districts (Guarnan Poma 1980(1615]:f. 189, 305; Rivera and Cháves de Guevara 1965(1586]: 181; Santacruz Pachacuti Yamqui 1968[1613]:297). Apparently the Inka adopted the term from the Chankas, the confederation of chiefdoms occupying the territory demarcated by the four wamanis Rasuwillka, Qarawarasu, Ampay, and Apacheta (figure 4 )• We have documentary evidence suggestive of a quadripartite structure of this confederation and the four wamanis would appear to have stood as emblems for each quarter (Zuidema 1964:69, 103-106; 1979:355) (figure 5).
There is a good chance that the Chanka quadripartite organisation had its roots in the Middle Horizon Wari state (Earls 1981:80-81; Zuidema 1973:749). Chanka myths assign a special status to the northern quarter where the site of Wari is located (Betanzos 1968(1551]: 15—31). Two major planned Wari sites are associated with two of the snow-capped peaks. There may be centres near the other two, but as yet we have little conclusive information about those regions. Although this reconstruction is an extremely tentative one, it is significant that quadripartite structures are common to dual-based systems of authority and that these dual and quadripartite organisations are compatible with the apparent calendrical structure as inferred from the remains at Azángaro, where it appears that the forty room-rows of the Central Sector might have corresponded to socio-political groups among the four quarters of the Wari heartland (Anders 1986a:792-811, 838, 891-900). 44
Figure 4: Map delineating the heartland of the Wari state, in the combined Ayacucho and Rio Pampas drainage basins, in relation to the four superior wamanis of the region.
45
If a dual organisation obtained in the Wari heartland and served to structure the four quarters or suyus, then there would have been two paramount moieties or sayas with their own paramount lords. The upper moiety or “Hananwari" would probably have comprised the Rasuwillka and Ampay quarters, with the Rasuwillka quarter being the highest ranking division since the capital of the Wari state was located there together with the wamani Rasuwillka which was the paramount among the four superior wamanis of the Wari heartland. The major Wari sites associated with the principal wamanis of the two quarters might be considered suyu or provincial capitals. Furthermore, the site that might have been associated with Ampay, like Azangaro, might have been the locus of ritual activities focused on fertility and water rites. Significantly, the Inka later established the shrine of Saiwite near Ampay—a carved rock whose iconography expresses a concern for water and fertility. The size and complexity of these sites probably would have differed, but Azangaro, located in the highest ranked quarter, likely would have been the more imposing and more important of the two.
The lower moiety or “Hurinwari" would have comprised the Apacheta and Qarawarasu suyus. The hierarchically superior quarter probably would had been the latter in which the wamani Qarawarasu is located. Jincamocco, the Wari site associated with it, is of comparable size and importance to Azangaro. The role of this moiety, as defined by the function and nature of Jincamocco, might have been primarily secular in contrast to that of the upper moiety. As in the upper moiety, however, the sites probably associated with the two wamanis could have stood in the same relation to one another with respect to size and complexity as did Azangaro to the site posibly associated with Ampay. Likewise, they might be considered suyu or provincial capitals. It is unlikely that there would have been a strict separation of secular and religious matters in the two chief moieties of Wari, given the usual inextricable nature of socio-political, economic, and ritual orders in the Andes now and in late Prehispanic times. Rather, it is suggested that there was a shift in focus and primary responsibility of administrative units from one saya to the other in terms of the state as a whole. It has been suggested that a similar dichotomy and complementarity existed in later Inka times (Duviols 1979:79-81).
If a quadripartite structure did exist, it would appear to have been a Middle Horizon Epoch 2 development. During Epoch IB, planned centres were constructed in mostly peripheral and frontier areas of Wari influence or control (for example Viracochapampa, Pikillaqta, Wariwilka, Jincamocco [Anders 1986a:20-29]). In contrast, during Epoch 2, there was a major rebuilding of Wari and the construction of a number of planned centres, including Azangaro, throughout the Wari heartland (for example Jargampata, Tawa Qocha Pampa, Cerro Churu, enclosures at Tantawasi and in the Carawaraso Valley [Anders 1986a:29-36[). Additionally, new enclosures were built at Jincamocco and the conjoined rooms at Pikillaqta. It is suggested that this surge in building might reflect a period of readjust ment and restructuring. The quadripartite organisation that is proposed for
46
Figure 5: Map showing hypothetical quadripartition of the Wari heartland during the Middle Horizon and of the Chanka Confederation during the Late Intermediate Period.
47
Epoch 2, drew a boundary around the original Wari state, an area of intensive regional interaction prior to and during the Middle Horizon. That Wari heart land comprises the four arms of the two axes along which Wari influence spread and the state expanded—the Ayacucho Basin, the upper and lower Rio Pam pas, and the Rio Pampamarca, the major southern affluent of the Rio Pampas. The four end points of these two axes are fortuitously and conveniently marked by four prominent landmarks—snow-capped peaks that Andean folk still today regard as homes of powerful mountain deities.
Again, although this hypothetical reconstruction is admittedly extremely tentative, it does offer possibilities for a significant and potentially fruitful reorientation in our approach to researching Wari administrative organisation. In such an approach, several analytic levels would have to be distinguished in the assessment of the distribution of settlements and other cultural remains as well as the location and function of planned centres in the heartland: upper and lower moieties, the four quarters, regional polities within each of the quarters, and moieties within each of those polities. Secondly, the period of the initial expansion would have to be differentiated from the period of readjustment, restructuring, and consolidation in each of these areas. In conclusion, Wari administration entailed both decentralizing and central izing tendencies. The dual organisation of authority with its foundation on reci procity was decentralizing in its emphasis on horizontal relationships of equality. The emergence of a state edifice embracing more and more polities and manip ulating ideologies in a highly visible way expresses a centralizing process, one inevitably stressing vertical or hierarchical relationships. Given growing internal and external contradictions, Wari authorities may have taken recourse in restructuring the Wari heartland to strengthen unity. They also created more elaborate ideological constructs, ones calling for more direct and widespread participation in periodic public rituals involving highly structured encounters between representatives of the state and of local polities. Thereby, tensions could have been lessened, cooperation promoted, and the interdependent, reciprocal roles of both reaffirmed.
At Azángaro, state authorities and representatives of local polities appear to have observed and regulated two calendar and ritual cycles, in a setting which, in its specific triadic structure and function of space, mapped out the dynamic structure and process of the Andean cosmos. The leitmotif of this cosmos was mediation—mediation through ritual of hierarchical and non-hierarchical systems, conquerors and conquered, and socio-political and economic orders (Anders 1986a: chapters 12, 13). It was a fitting stage for the mediation of state and local interests. At the same time, the way in which the representatives of local polities, mzt’a, were mobilised and sent to serve at Azángaro appears to have reaffirmed and reproduced periodically the socio political order of the territories from which they were drawn—a dual structure encompassing four major provinces and perhaps forty “nations” or socio-political divisions within them. Ideology and ritual were thus inextricable components of the administration of this highland Andean state.
48
Both strategies—the restructuring of the heartland and the transformation in the way Wari manipulated ideology—appear to have been attempts to resolve the tension and conflict that seem inevitable in a system which persisted in accommodating a dual system of authority based on a rule of reciprocity within its centralizing state framework. Acknowledgements: Fieldwork at Azângaro was funded by grants from the Fulbright-Hays Doctoral Dissertation Research Abroad Program and the So cial Science Research Council and American Council of Learned Societies Inter national Doctoral Research Fellowship Program, under permit of the Institute Nacional de Cultura of Peru (Acuerdo No. 05/06.06.78). The opinions, conclu sions, and other statements in this article are those of the author and do not reflect necessarily those of the councils or the institute.
Bibliography Albo, J. y equipo de CIPCA 1972 Dinámica en la estructura inter-comunitaria de Jesús de Machaca. América Indígena 32(3):773-816. Anders, M.B. 1979 Diseño para la investigación de las funciones de un sitio Wari. Re vista Investigaciones 2(l):27-44. (Departamento de Ciencias HistéricoSociales, Universidad Nacional de San Cristóbal de Huamanga, Ayacucho, Peru) 1986a Dual Organization and Calendars Inferred from the Planned Site of Azdngaro—Wari Administrative Strategies. University Microfilms International, Ann Arbor. 1986b Wari experiments in statecraft: a view from Azángaro. In Andean Archaeology. Papers in Memory of Clifford Evans, edited by R. Matos M., S.A. Turpin, and H.H. Eling, Jr., pp. 201-224. Institute of Archaeology, University of California at Los Angeles. Arguedas, J.M. 1964 Puquio, una cultura en proceso de cambio. In Estudios Sobre la Cultura Actual del Perú, compiled by L.E. Valcárcel et al., pp. 221-272. Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Lima. Arriaga, P.J. de 1920[1621] La Extirpación de la Idolatría en el Perú. Colección de Libros y Documentos Referentes a la Historia del Perú, 2a Serie, Tomo 1. Imprenta y Librería Sanmartí y Ca, Lima. Benavides Calle, M. 1984 Carácter del Estado Wari. Universidad Nacional de San Cristóbal de Huamanga, Ayacucho. Betanzos, J. de 1968[1551] Suma y Narración de los Incas. Biblioteca de Autores Españoles 209:1-55. (Madrid).
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Duviols, P. 1979 La dinastía de los Incas: ¿monarquía o diarquía? Argumentos heurísticos a favor de una tésis estructuralista. Journal de la Société des American istas 66:67-83. Earls, J. 1973 La organización del poder en la mitología quechua. In Ideología Mesiánica del Mundo Andino, edited by J.M. Ossio A., pp. 393-414. Edición Ignacio Prado Pastor, Lima.
1981 Patrones de jurisdicción y organización entre los Qaracha Wankas. Una reconstrucción arqueológica y etnohistórica de una época flúida. In Etnohistoria y Antropología Andina. Segunda Jornada del Museo Nacional de Historia, edited by A. Castelli, M. Koth de Paredes, and M. Mould de Pease, pp. 55-91. Museo Nacional de Historia, Lima. Favre, H. 1967 Tayta wamani. Le cuite des montagnes dans le centre sud des Andes péruviennes. In Colloque d’Etudes Péruviennes. Publications des An uales de la Faculté des Lettres Aix-en-Provence N.S. 61:121-140. González Carré, E. and F. Rivera Pineda 1983 Antiguos Dioses y Nuevos Conflictos Andinos. Universidad Nacional de San Cristóbal de Huamanga, Ayacucho. Guarnan Poma de Ayala, F. 1980(1615] El Primer Nueva Coránica y Buen Gobierno, edited by J.V. Murra and R. Adorno. Siglo Veintiuno, Mexico. Isbell, B.J. 1978 To Defend Ourselves. Ecology and Ritual in an Andean Village. Univer sity of Texas Press, Austin. Isbell, W.H. 1977 The Rural Foundations for Urbanism: Economic and Stylistic Interac tion between Rural and Urban Communities in Eighth-Century Peru. University of Illinois Press, Urbana.
Isbell, W.H. and K.J. Schreiber 1978 Was Wari a state? American Antiquity 43(3):372-389. Lumbreras, L.G. 1980 El Imperio Wari. In Historia del Perú. Tomo 2, edited by J. Mejia Baca, pp. 9-91. Editorial Juan Mejia Baca, Lima. McEwan, G.F. 1984 The Middle Horizon in the Valley of Cuzco, Peru: the Impact of the Wari Occupation of Pikillacta in the Lucre Basin. University Microfilms International, Ann Arbor.
Martínez, G. 1983 Los dioses de los cerros en los Andes. Journal de la Société des Américanistes 69:85-115. Mitchell, W.P. 1972 The System of Power in Quinua: A Community of the Central Peruvian Highlands. University Microfilms International, Ann Arbor. 50
Morissette, J. and L. Racine 1973 La hiérarchie des wamani: essai sur la pensée classificatoire quechua. In Signes et Langages des Amériques. Recherches Amériendiennes au Québec 3(1—2):167-188. Morris, C. 1979 Maize beer in the economics, politics, and religion of the Inca Empire. In Fermented Food Beverages in Nutrition, edited by C.F. Gastineau, W.J. Darby, and T.B. Turner, pp. 21-34. Academic Press, New York. Murra, J.V. 1960 Rite and crop in the Inca state. In Culture in History. Essays in Honor of Paul Radin, edited by S. Diamond, pp. 393-407. Columbia University Press, New York.
1967 La visita de los Chupachu como fuente etnológica. In Visita de la Provincia de León de Huánuco en 1562, Tomo 1. Iñigo Ortiz de Zúñiga, pp. 381-406. Universidad Nacional Hermilio Valdizán, Huánuco. 1968 An Aymara kingdom in 1567. Ethnohistory 15(2):115-151. 1980 The Economic Organization of the Inka State. JAI Press, Greenwich. Murúa, Fray M. de 1964(1613] Historia General del Perú. Libro segundo del gobierno que los Yngas tubieron en este reino y ritos y ceremonias que guardaban. Colección Joyas Bibliográficas. Bibliotheca Americana Vetus. Instituto Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo, Madrid. Netherly, P.J. 1984 The management of late Andean irrigation systems on the North Coast of Peru. American Antiquity 49(2):227-254. Palomino Flores, S. 1971 Duality in the socio-cultural organization of several Andean populations. Folk 13:65-88. Quispe M., U. 1969 La Herranza en Choque Huarcaya y Huancasancos, Ayacucho. Instituto Indigenista Peruano, Unidad de Investigación y Programación, Serie Monográfica No. 20, Lima. Rivera, P. de and A. de Cháves de Guevara • 1965(1586] Relación de la ciudad de Guamanga y sus términos. Año de 1586. In Relaciones Geográficas de Indias—Perú, edited by M. Jiménez de la Espada. Biblioteca de Autores Españoles 183: 181-204. (Madrid) Santacruz Pachacuti Yamqui, Don J. de 1968(1613] Relación de Antigüedades deste Reyno del Perú. In Crónicas Peruanas de Interés Indígena, edited by F. Esteve Barba. Biblioteca de Autores Españoles 209:279-319. (Madrid) Schreiber, K.J. 1987 Conquest and consolidation: a comparison of the Wari and Inka occupa tions of a highland Peruvian valley. American Antiquity 52(2):266-284.
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Spickard, L.E. 1983 The development of Huari administrative architecture. In Investiga tions of the Andean Past. Papers from the First Annual Northeast Conference on Andean Archaeology and Ethnohistory, edited by D.H. Sandweiss, pp. 136-160. Latin American Studies Program, Cornell Uni versity, Ithaca. Zuidema, R.T. 1964 The Ceque System of Cuzco. The Social Organization of the Capital of the Inca. E.J. Brill, Leiden. 1973 The origins of the Inca empire. Recueils de la Société Jean Bodin pour I’Histoire Comparative des Institutions 32:733-757. (Brussels) 1979 El ushnu. Revista de la Universidad Complutense 28(117):317-362. (Madrid)
1982 Bureaucracy and systematic knowledge in Andean civilization. In The Inca and Aztec States, 1J00-1800. Anthropology and History, edited by G.A. Collier, R.I. Rosaldo, and J.D. Wirth, pp. 419-458. Academic Press, New York. 1983 Hierarchy and space in Incaic social organization. Ethnohistory 30(2): 49-75.
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The Wari empire in the southern Peruvian highlands: a view from the provinces Gordon F. McEwanf
Since 1978, work at the archaeological site of Pikillacta in the Valley of Cuzco has provided data illuminating the nature of the provincial aspect of the Wari empire. Studies of the settlement pattern and architecture associated with the Wari provincial capital of Pikillacta have provided insights into the manner in which provincial areas were incorporated into the imperial state. The view of the Wari empire afforded by the Pikillacta data reflects a highly centralised state in which secular concerns were emphasised. A high degree of integration seems to have been achieved in the Cuzco valley and in the southern highland provinces as a whole. This no doubt reflects the importance of this region of the empire in terms of natural resources, demographics, and its proximity to the other great Middle Horizon polity, the Tiahuanaco empire. During the Middle Horizon the valley of Cuzco was apparently invaded by the Wari culture. The Wari erected the Pikillacta site at the southern end of the valley—known as the Lucre Basin—and occupied several other large sites within the basin, setting up a very large, well integrated and highly structured settlement system. The situation within the Lucre Basin in the Early Intermediate Period—just prior to the Wari invasion—has not been well studied and is poorly understood. It is thus difficult to establish what the pre-Wari settlement pattern was, and hence what degree of socio-political complexity had been achieved prior to the infusion of Wari influence. It is probably safe to assume that whatever the pre-existing pattern may have been, it was less complex and on a smaller scale than what the Wari achieved; certainly no permanent building remains on the scale of Pikillacta pre-existed the Middle Horizon. In this paper the distinctive settlement system imposed on the basin by the Wari Empire will be examined.
Pre-Wari developments in the Cuzco Valley The Early Horizon culture in the Cuzco Valley is represented by the Chanapata ceramic style first identified by John Rowe in 1944 (Rowe 1944:10-23). Sub sequently Dwyer (1971a:32-36; 1971b:12 and 41) encountered Chanapata style ceramics in the Lucre Basin in his excavations at Minaspata. This style was also encountered by the author in excavations at Choquepukio and in surface collec tions from Mama Qolla. It appears from the excavations that most Chanapata
I Pre-Columbian Studies, Dumbarton Oaks, Washington, D.C. 53
sites within the basin are quite deeply buried and are thus very difficult to find. In no case was sufficient data recovered to provide real evidence of community or settlement patterns, or social organisation. The scant evidence available allows the speculation that at least the sites of Chokepukio and Minaspata were occu pied and that the huaca of Mama Qolla probably served as the local ceremonial focus (figure 1).
Figure 1: Map of the Lucre Basin
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The succeeding Early Intermediate Period is even more problematical. John Rowe (personal communication 1984) believes that a derived Chanapata style continues in use into the Early Intermediate Period. However, he also believes that there must be another style, as yet undiscovered, that falls chronologically between derived Chanapata and the Wari styles. Chávez Ballon has identified a style, at Batán Urqo near Huaro, which he calls Waru and which he believes falls between Chanapata and Wari (Rowe 1956:142). The author’s excavations in the Lucre Basin did not encounter any style stratigraphically positioned between derived Chanapata and Wari, but it seems likely that Rowe’s observation that such a style probably does exist-—and has yet to be found—is correct. Such a style would be the counterpart of the Qotakalli style that was evolving at the other end of the Cuzco valley during this period. The local Middle Horizon ceramic styles in the Lucre Basin are the Lucre and Qotakalli styles. While it is not certain that stylistic differences can always be equated with different ethnic groups, for the purposes of the model discussed here the assumption is made that these styles represent different groups. As more data becomes available in future, this assumption will be more readily testable. Lucre is a ceramic style encountered by Chávez Bailón in association with Wari styles in his excavations at Batán Urqo near Huaro, about 17 km to the south of the Lucre Basin (Rowe 1956:142). This style is named for the Lucre Basin where it is extremely common (Chávez Bailón personal communication 1978). Lucre ceramics show a very strong Wari influence and can be divided into two basic variants: Lucre A and Lucre B. The Lucre B style seems to be much more closely related to the Wari styles and is therefore probably the local imitation Wari style and contemporary with the Wari occupation of the basin. The Lucre A style seems more similar to the Late Intermediate Period K’illke style described by Rowe (1944:60-62) and Dwyer (1971b), and the Inca A style described by Rowe (personal communication 1982). I found a few Lucre B style sherds in my excavation units 11 and 15 at Pikillacta but they were not in direct association with pure Wari style sherds. Nevertheless their presence in the structures of Pikillacta beneath the overburden clearly suggest contemporaneity.
The Qotakalli style was defined by Pat Lyon at the type site of Qotakalli in the Cuzco Basin (Lyon personal communication 1984). Luis Barreda reports that he found Qotakalli ceramics in his excavations at Pikillacta in 1964 (Barreda 1982:13-20), and Qotakalli sherds were found in the author’s excavation units 9, 19, and 20 at Pikillacta in clear association with Wari style ceramics. Additional Qotakalli sherds were found in surface collections from Chokepukio, Rayallacta, and Mama Qolla. The Qotakalli style does not show the heavy Wari influence so evident in the Lucre ceramics and it is possible that it had already evolved from the earlier Chanapata styles before the Wari invasion. Both Dwyer (1971b: 136) and Lyon (personal communication 1982) believe that the Qotakalli style is ancestral to the Late Intermediate Period K’illke style which Dwyer reports does show some Wari influence (1971b:135). It seems likely then, that the Qotakalli style existed at the time of the Wari invasion and that the impact on it of the Wari influence eventually produced the K’illke style in the Late Intermediate Period. However, due to its relatively low frequency of occurrence in the Lucre Basin in comparison to the Lucre styles, its considerable differences in 55
morphology and paste composition and the distribution of K’illke sites reported by Dwyer (1971b) (presumably the distribution of Qotakalli sites would be similar if these two styles are related as postulated) I feel that Qotakalli probably represents the cultural group which occupied the northern end of the Cuzco Valley during the Middle Horizon. The presence of this style at Wari sites in the Lucre Basin may represent some kind of special relationship with the Wari. Perhaps the Qotakalli were co-opted as allies. To summarise, it appears likely that when the Wari invaded the Valley of Cuzco they encountered at least two distinct ethnic groups. One of these, represented by the Qotakalli style, occupied the Cuzco Basin in the northern end of the valley. The influence of the Wari on the Qotakalli style eventually produced the K’illke style in the Late Intermediate Period. In the Lucre Basin at the southern end of the Valley of Cuzco, there was probably an ethnic group producing ceramics descended from the Chanapata styles but which has not yet been identified archaeologically. The influence of the Wari styles on this as yet unidentified style eventually produced the Lucre B imitation Wari style during the Middle Horizon and the Lucre A style in the Late Intermediate Period.
“Greater Pikillacta” During the course of the surveys of the Lucre Basin undertaken in 1979 and 1982 it became apparent that Pikillacta was not an isolated Wari site. Rather it was one of several large Wari occupation zones within, and on the periphery of the basin (figure 1). At least two of these occupation zones, Raqchi (Minaspata) and Muyurinapata, had been previously observed by John Rowe (1963:14 and personal communication 1982) but several others were also located both within the basin proper and just outside the southern margin. Given the small size of the basin and the close proximity of several large Wari sites, these sites must have been related in a systematic fashion and should therefore be considered together to form a settlement system I call “Greater Pikillacta.” A model of the “Greater Pikillacta” site was developed on the basis of the 1979 survey (see McEwan 1979), and the 1982 survey data allowed this model to be refined and adjusted to take into account additional evidence of Wari occupations.
The foundations for this model were laid by the work of Willey on architec tural forms in the Viru Valley of the North Coast, and by the work of Schaedel concerning community patterns on the North Coast, for both of whom Middle Horizon architectural elements and settlement patterning appear as intrusive.
Willey (1953), in his Viru Valley report, has identified the characteristic in novative Middle Horizon architectural forms as the semi-isolated large house, the rectangular enclosure compound and the great rectangular enclosure compound. The semi-isolated large houses are generally rectangular stone structures divided into several rooms and are often found in the vicinity of villages for which they may have served as a nucleus or focus. The rectangular enclosure compounds are usually large stone structures with symmetrical interior arrangements of small rooms, courtyards and corridors. The great rectangular enclosure compounds are very large structures made of adobe or tapia and are generally lacking in 56
small interior subdivisions. All of these structures appear to be variations on the theme of the large rectangular enclosure compounds of the highland Wari sites that Schreiber (1978) and others have described (see Brewster-Wray 1983; Isbell 1977, 1978; McCown 1945; Sanders 1973; Spickard 1983, Topic and Topic 1983). Schreiber (1978:216) believes that Willey’s Viru enclosure compounds may have functioned as palaces, storage facilities or garrisons, and notes that corridors of standard Wari style width are often characteristic of these structures. She also reports that these structures are closely associated with the Pre-Columbian highway in the region—which may be a remnant of the original Wari highway system that linked them together. Ford (1954:168) also reports Middle Horizon highways—which he attributes to the Wari—linking the Viru Valley with several other North Coastal valleys. Schaedel (1966a, 1966b) has identified the introduction of an urban settle ment pattern in the form of the “town” as the predominant social change that can be attributed to a highland presence on the North Coast during the Middle Horizon. He defines the “town” as a large segmented settlement—extending for more than one kilometer in one dimension and consisting of formally distinct components of the community—and which are systematically interrelated by features such as road and wall systems. The favored location for these “towns” was on hillsides sloping back from valley margins near major irrigation canal intakes. Schaedel further argues that this “town” pattern was introduced on the coast by the Wari—noting that it contrasts with previous settlement centres by nucleating around strategic features rather than ceremonial ones.
After checking Willey’s compounds in the multi-functional site context indicated by Schaedel, I derived what I have called the Wari administrative settlement pattern (McEwan 1979) which I believe was applied by the Wari in the Lucre Basin to form the “Greater Pikillacta” site. Implicit in the concept of this administrative pattern is the hypothesis that Wari was a territorial state that selected strategic locations as provincial nodes and imposed on these certain ordering principles (Isbell and Schreiber 1978). This pattern, when viewed from the regions outside Ayacucho, is not one of growth by accretion—which should be anticipated in a situation of autogenous development inside the region—but represents rather a well organised, preconceived plan or template imposed on the landscape as an integrated settlement fulfilling functions of state organisation and administration (figure 2). The key organisational element of this settlement plan has been outlined in Schaedel’s concept of the Middle Horizon “town” that is composed of functionally and formally distinct elements. The settlement is divided into components, each having a distinct general function. These functions include ceremonial or religious, residential (elite and non-elite), administrative, defensive and, presumably, economic functions. Within each component there should exist architectural forms peculiar to its general function, some of which would account for Willey’s Middle Horizon architectural forms in the Viru Valley. The components of the “town”, since they encompass internal systems as noted by Schaedel, and occupy a contiguous large area formally bounded at its extreme perimeters, must be connected and interrelated by a communication
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Pikillacta
Figure 2: Diagramme of the Wari settlement system in the Lucre Basin. system in the form of a road-path network and probably other systems such as drainage and water supply. A final organisational aspect of the plan is that of external boundaries, and the circumscription of certain of the components by walls or a combination of walls and natural features such as artificially modified natural embankments, terraced slopes and partially blocked ravines. This circumscription serves to channel and potentially restrict access and traffic flow and to limit the maximum desired perimeter of the component. The net effect of this settlement plan is that of a strategically chosen, purposefully designed entity, well adapted and oriented—as Schaedel (1966a) suggests—-to a society in which administrative and economic processes took precedence over ritual concerns. In contrast to the ceremonial centres and pyramids constructed by earlier Peruvian societies, the great labour investments of this society seem directed toward the construction of elite residences, administrative/bureaucratic buildings, and economic assets such as canals and terraces.
The structure of “Greater Pikillacta”
The results of the surface surveys and excavations in the Lucre Basin permit the identification of the location of the major components of “Greater Pikillacta” and a suggestion of their general function. Overall, Wari sites seem to have been placed within the Lucre Basin so as to take into account strategic locations for security, locations of pre-existing non-Wari populations, and ceremonially important sites. There also seems to be a preference for uplands and hillsides which may reflect defensive concerns. Thus we find Wari sites at each of the
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five entrances to the basin, evidence of a Wari presence at the two known major pre-Wari occupations and evidence of a Wari presence at the religious shrine of Mama Qolla. The ruins of Pikillacta proper appear to occupy the only virgin parcel of land that was large enough to contain it within the basin and yet to provide convenient access to the quarries at Rumiqolqa, the highway, and the lake.
Administration: The large formal architectural complex located on the lower slopes of Cerro Huchuy Balcon which has been traditionally considered to be the site of Pikillacta was undoubtedly the nerve centre of the Wari occupation. This complex most likely represents the residence of both political and religious elites and the centre of political administration. Although field work suggests that some religious structures are present within the complex, the preponderance of structures are apparently secular in nature and the overall purpose of this complex can be considered to be the centre of civil administration. Within this complex is also a sector that may have been devoted to quarters for a military garrison or residence for rotating groups of corvée labour. The personnel residing in this sector probably served as guards and police, or servants for the governing elite.
Ceremonial/religious aspects: The major pre-Wari shrine in the Lucre Basin was probably the small hill of Mama Qolla on the southern side of the basin, which—even today—is considered to be a huaca by the local inhabitants. The Wari invaders most likely coopted this shrine as a matter of policy. Schaedel (1951:110-112 and personal communication 1978) has observed that the Wari apparently applied this policy to the huacas of the Moche on the North Coast, noting that at Panamarca there was clear evidence that the huaca had been taken over and modified by the Wari to serve their own purposes. Other probable religious shrines are located in the canchones on the southeastern side of Pikillacta proper and to the northwest—in the area served by the north approach avenue. These consist of earth works and large natural rock formations which appear similar to what would be in later times huacas of the Incas. In an earlier work (McEwan 1979) I have argued that the site of Combayoq (referred to as part of Rayallacta in McEwan 1979) may have been the largest open air ceremonial component because of its similarity to the Inca earthworks at Moray, north of Cuzco, and the presence of unusual stone constructions and tombs on the hillside above it. Some additional Wari sherds were found during the 1982 surface survey of the terraced depression of Combayoq but these do not by themselves offer proof of the identity of the builders. The stone work is not typically Inca in the terraced depression, and the scale of the earthworks and other modifications carried out suggests that a state level organisation was responsible for marshalling the necessary labour and other resources for the 59
project. The Wari therefore seem the most likely candidates for constructors of this project.
Residence:
As mentioned above, the highest ranking religious and secular elites probably resided at Pikillacta proper. The remaining non-ceremonial sites of the Wari occupation of the basin contained the residences of the lesser bureaucrats, military garrisons, artesans, and workers—most of whom were probably natives of the basin. Those sites in strategic locations probably served dual functions as residences for troops and as strategic defensive installations. The basic residential clusters—because of their non-strategic locations in terms of defense—are Minaspata, Qolqe Haycuchina, and Waska Waskan. The latter two sites consist of large areas containing numerous small house foundations but no large formal architecture. The presence in the surface collections of waste flakes from both turquoise-coloured stones and obsidian—as well as broken marine shells—suggest that these sites may have served as areas of craft production in addition to being residences. The presence of both Wari and local Middle Horizon style sherds on the surface of these sites may indicate that the Waxi were fully integrated into certain native residential clusters, probably for security reasons. Other sites containing residential clusters include Unca Puncu, Tukuywayku, and Morro de Arica, all on the southwestern side of the basin. The quantity of local Middle Horizon style sherds on these sites is quite large and Wari sherds are rare. This may indicate that these relatively non-strategic sites contained residential clusters for the native non-Wari population. The nature of the surface collections, however, permits only rather speculative conclusions regarding these sites.
Defence:
Strategic locations were occupied at the five entrances to the Lucre Basin. On the north side of the basin the sites of Chokepukio and Muyurinapata guarded the Oropesa narrows and the quebrada of the Rio Huatanay. A large wall very similar in design to the Rumiqolqa wall was built to control the main highway where it entered the basin, running behind Cerro Condor Moqo and Chokepukio. Chokepukio may have also served as the residence for the native ruler and nonWari elite who were probably guarded by a Wari garrison. Chokepukio became the major native centre in the basin after the abandonment of Pikillacta, so it is likely that it had been a site of some importance even during the Middle Horizon. To the southeast the two passes into the basin on either side of Cerro Combayoc were guarded by Pikillacta proper and by Rayallacta. At the southeastern extremity of Pikillacta lies the Rumiqolqa gate which was probably manned by a garrison quartered nearby. The companion great wall at Rayallacta is nearly identical in construction to the Rumiqolqa wall and obviously served the
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same function. It was protected by the site of Rayallacta—which contains a very large Wari style rectangular enclosure that probably housed the garrison and served defensive purposes. Large numbers of local imitation-Wari style pot sherds as well as many non-Wari-style buildings indicate that in addition to the Wari installation there was also a substantial native population at Rayallacta. The southwestern entrance to the basin, the quebrada of the Rio Lucre, was controlled by the site of Mullimulliyoq. A few killometers up the quebrada there is another site strategically placed on a hilltop overlooking the highway, which appears to have been a guard post. Both of these sites contain local imitationWari pottery on the surface and must certainly also have had a Wari garrison. Through this system of walls and garrisons all access to the basin and Pikillacta proper could be effectively controlled and security maintained.
Roads: The road system, which probably dates to the Middle Horizon, forms a triple loop connecting all of the sites in the Lucre Basin and on the periphery to each other and to the main highways into the valley, which enter approximately from the four cardinal directions (figure ê). The large central loop runs around the inside perimeter of the basin, generally above the swampy bottom land, and connects all sites inside the basin. There are two raised causeways involved in this loop which cross the marsh from Chokepukio to Muyurinapata, and from Chokepukio towards Pikillacta proper. Since these causeways directly connect major Wari sites it seems reasonable to assume that they were originally built by the Wari. The two smaller loops in the road system run around Cerro Condor Moqo on the northwestern side of the basin and Cerro Combayoq on the southeastern side, connecting several sites just outside the basin with those inside it.
Many of the surviving fragments of the original road system are walled, particularly the approach avenue to Pikillacta proper and the road which connects Pikillacta with Rayallacta. In several places on Cerro Combayoq ravines were filled in to form embankments for the road and both there and in the road which runs up the Lucre quebrada steps were cut into the steeper parts of the hillside. The “Greater Pikillacta” complex—as outlined above—appears to fulfill Schaedel’s criteria for the Middle Horizon town. The archaeological sites of the Lucre Basin and its neighbouring cerros were linked together by the Wari to form a very large, segmented settlement, extending for more than one kilometer in one dimension and consisting of distinct components of the community embracing the functions of administration, ceremony, residence, craft production and defence. All these components are systematically interrelated by a well developed road system. The “Greater Pikillacta” complex thus formed represents a massive invest ment of labour, resources and personnel far exceeding the scope of Wari activities at other Southern Highland sites—so far as is presently known. The massive 61
block of pure Wari architecture at Pikillacta is the largest Wari structure in the Southern Highlands and probably the largest in all of highland Peru with the exception only of Wari itself. All of this suggests that Pikillacta was the major Wari centre in the Southern Highlands and probably represents a regional capital of the Wari Empire.
Pikillacta as a provincial capital:
In the context of the above discussion, the function of the “Greater Pikillacta” complex within the Wari state structure would seem to be that of a provincial or regional capital. Its size and complexity—combining within its boundaries all the requisite structures for state level political and economic control—attests to its major position in the imperial hierarchy. Finally, its geographic position provides even further evidence for this interpretation. In her discussion of the evidence for a Wari highway system, Schreiber (1978:102) has noted that nearly all known major Wari sites are associated with Inca highways—suggesting that a large part of the highway system usually attributed to the Inca Empire probably dates to Wari times. This observation is particularly pertinent to the “Greater Pikillacta” complex, which intercepts the main trunk road running between the circum-Titicaca area and the Central Peruvian highlands. This highway would have served as the communication link between Pikillacta and the capital of the Empire—Wari—and between Pikillacta and the extreme southern frontier of the empire—probably somewhere around the area of modern Sicuani. Two other highways enter the basin from the northeast and southwest. The highway entering on the northeastern side of the Basin comes through the pass at Huambutio and connects the Lucre Basin with the Vilcanota drainage. The highway entering from the southwest comes down the quebrada of the Lucre river. This highway may have provided a connection with the Wari site reported at Paruro by Barreda (personal communication 1982). From a strategic point of view, the Lucre Basin not only intercepts the highways and provides a highly defensible location for the security of Pikillacta, but also has the advantage of being located near the junction of the Huatanay and Vilcanota rivers. This position permits the control of the Cuzco Valley and the upper and lower portions of the Vilcanota Valley. These valleys contain some of the most productive agricultural land in the southern sierra. Further to the south, along the Vilcanota, is prime grazing land for llama and alpaca. These resources must have provided the primary motive for the Wari conquest of this region. More local considerations affecting the siting of the Pikillacta complex probably reflected the varied resources of the Lucre Basin—which included not only a variety of agricultural niches, but also lacustrine resources such as fish, waterfowl and probably most importantly, totora reeds in great abundance. Ultimately, esthetic considerations may also have influenced the decision to
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locate Pikillacta in the Basin. The environment of the Lucre Basin was evidently much prized by the Inca, who, in later times built villas there (Brundage 1967:26-27). To summarise, the Lucre Basin is a most logical place to locate Pikillacta— from the point of view of administration. It was centrally located for the control of both the major valleys of the region and the highway system, and had the added advantage of providing a very defensible position. Thus, the interpretation of Pikillacta’s function as a regional or provincial capital seems reasonable. If this interpretation is accepted, then the question of the hinterland and satellite centres controlled by Pikillacta must be considered.
Although archaeological survey of the southern highlands is far from com plete, what data is available suggest that a hierarchical organisation may have existed in the Wari occupation of the region. Each major basin within the valleys of the Vilcanota and Huatanay probably contained at least one Wari site, with larger basins perhaps containing more than one site. These sites would have been strategically located within the topography for purposes of administration and control of both the native population and local resources. Perhaps the best candidate for one of these sites situated hierarchically below Pikillacta is the complex at Batán Urqo. This site lies approximately 17 kilometers to the southeast of Pikillacta along the main trunk road. A major constriction of the Vilcanota Valley occurs at this point—caused by the presence of Cerro Wiracochán, which blocks the valley—except for two narrow passes on either side. The highway crosses through the southern pass, and it is here that the Wari sites are located. The site of Batán Urqo is located on a spur overlooking the modern town of Huaro. At this site Chávez Bailón excavated tombs constructed of stone slabs similar to tombs at Wari. He found Wari and Lucre ceramics in association with these tombs (Rowe 1956:142). Lumbreras (1974:165) also reports large amounts of Wari ceramics from here.
A few kilometers to the southeast, along the highway, are the remains of a great wall similar to the Rumiqolqa wall. This wall intersects the highway just above the lagoon at Urcos. On the slope above the wall to the south is an associated site with many Wari sherds on the surface, but no architecture. On the northern side of the pass—on the southeastern flank of Cerro Wiracochán— is yet another site, consisting of several very large rectangular enclosures which may be remains of a Wari installation. This group of sites is, in a sense, a smaller version of the Pikillacta settlement system. The elite residence and administrative component, and the elite cemetery, were probably located at Batán Urqo. The lower status residence and defensive component was probably located at the great wall and on the slope above it. The constructions on the lower, southern slopes of Cerro Wiracochán may represent the ceremonial component. Further to the south in the Vilcanota drainage there is another Wari site at San Pedro de Cacha near Sicuani. No Wari architecture is preserved there, but there are large numbers of Wari sherds on the surface. Lumbreras (1974:168) 63
reports another Wari site near Sicuani, called Yanamancha, where apparently only surface ceramics have been found.
To the north of Pikillacta, in the Oropesa Basin of the Cuzco Valley, a Wari site was discovered in 1981 by a work crew laying pipe (Arq. Ruben Orellana: personal communication 1982). I also believe that some of the structures above the Inca site of Tipon, on the eastern rim of the basin, may pertain to the Wari occupation. In the Cuzco Basin itself no Wari sites have as yet been discovered. Given the heavy occupation of this end of the Cuzco Valley during Late Horizon and post-Conquest times, it is possible that a Wari site underlies one of the Inca or more recent sites. A few Wari sherds have been unearthed in Cuzco (Patricia Lyon, personal communication 1986). To the north of Cuzco, on the Pampa de Anta, are at least two Wari sites: Fiero Wasi, and another site reported by Arq. Italo Oberti of the Institute Nacional de Cultura. To the west of Cuzco, in the direction of Abancay, is the site of Cura Wasi where Dr. Nunez del Prado recorded several Wari grave lots (John Rowe personal communication 1982). Some of the motifs on the Cura Wasi material are very similar to the more common motifs found at Pikillacta. Finally, Dr. Luis Barreda (personal communication 1982) of the University of Cuzco and Brian Bauer (personal communication 1987) of the University of Chicago, report a Wari site near Paruro. This site lies about 30 km to the southwest of Pikillacta.
None of these Wari sites appear to have large formal architectural blocks in the style of Pikillacta. This is probably a reflection of the fact that they were lower in the site hierarchy, and did not merit the intensive labour investment necessary to build the large administrative structures. They do indicate, however, the large extent of the territories surrounding Pikillacta that were controlled by the Wari. Many more sites undoubtedly wait to be discovered in the circum-Pikillacta region.
Pikillacta as a model provincial Wari installation: In earlier work on the Pikillacta site, a number of principles and systemic features of Wari site planning were identified (see McEwan 1979 and 1980). The 1982 field work at Pikillacta provided additional data which allowed these observations to be further refined. The features and principles can be divided into those pertaining to the macro system of the state as a whole, and those pertaining to the micro-system of the sites themselves.
Features of the macro-system reflecting the physical organisation of the state include:
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1. The imposition on the landscape of administrative sites, as a unit, consisting of several discrete functional components.
2. The imposition of these units at strategic positions relative to the state highway network and adjacent to important human and natural resource areas. Features of the micro-system of the organisation of the sites themselves include: 1. Linkage of the discrete functional components of the site together into a unified whole or “Greater Site” by intrasite wall and road systems which both facilitate and control access and communication.
2. The segregation of the major ceremonial component of the site from the administrative centre. 3. Within the “Greater” site there is at least one unit consisting of formal state architecture composed of certain specific recurring structural types. This unit was presumably the seat of administration. The universality of the features of the macro-system can be observed readily in several other major highland Wari sites in addition to Pikillacta. The site of Viracocha Pampa in the North Highlands is probably the site most frequently compared with Pikillacta. Both McCown (1945) and Thatcher (1974) have commented on this site’s proximity to the major highway system of the region. Elsewhere (McEwan 1979) I have also made this point and discussed the site’s strategic location relative to the Moche drainage. A similar case can be made for the sites of Azângaro (Anders 1982, 1986), Wari Wilka (McEwan 1979), and Jincamocco (Schreiber 1978) in the Central Highlands. All of these sites are located at major nodes in the north-south axis running roughly from the Cuzco area in the south through Cajamarca in the north.
The clusters of functional components making up the administrative sites are a little more difficult to document because many of these sites have only been observed in terms of their most obvious components and investigators have not considered the fact that they may have been looking at only a single component of a larger entity. Nevertheless a case can be made for a multi-component site at Viracocha Pampa (where Viracocha Pampa proper is the administrative segment and Cerro Amaru and Cerro Sazon form other components [McEwan 1979]), on the basis of the reports of McCown (1945), Thatcher (1977), and the Topics (1983). Isbell’s (personal communication 1984) interpretation of Wari also seems to bear out this model of multi-component organisation—in which the components are not necessarily situated on contiguous terrain. He specifically cites the occupation on neighbouring ridges to Wari, and the possible relationship between the Wari and Qonchopata—as separate secular and ceremonial foci which are separated by a distance of eight kilometers. 65
The features of the micro-system of Wari are also reflected in other provincial Wari sites. The internal systemic features of the wall and road systems can be identified at Viracocha Pampa, and to a limited extent at Wari Wilka (McEwan 1979), as can the peripheral locations of the ceremonial components relative to the main focus of the site. The relationship of Wari and Qonchopata, mentioned above, may also reflect of this phenomenon. By far the most readily apparent feature however, is the administrative ar chitectural block composed of specific recurring structural types. Architectural blocks in the distinctive Wari style have been studied at Viracocha Pampa (Mc Cown 1945; Topic and Topic 1983), Azángaro (Anders 1982), and Jincamocco (Schreiber 1978). At Wari, the prototypes of the administrative architectural block have been studied by Brewster-Wray (1983). Although these structures are in blocks somewhat less rigidly planned than those of the provincial style, by Middle Horizon IB they were apparently serving the same function—that is, housing the administrative elite (Brewster-Wray 1983:134). Spickard (1983), tracing the development of these architectural blocks from earlier forms at Wari, implies that they were a necessary pre-condition for the imperial expansion.
Viracocha Pampa
Viracocha Pampa, the site most frequently compared to Pikillacta, is located in the North Highlands, near Huamachuco. The architectural block is laid out in the form of a nearly perfect square, and measures approximately 560 x 550 meters (Topic and Topic 1983:7). Like Pikillacta, the Viracocha Pampa architectural block has a central focus consisting of a large structure or plaza. The majority of the structures within the block are clustered around this central focus. There is also a great deal of empty space within the architectural block which suggests that construction of the site may never have been finished. On the basis of their architectural investigations, the Topics concluded that this was indeed the case and that many of the structures were only partially completed (1983:25). The ground plans of the site made by McCown (1945: figure 13) and the Topics (1983: figure 1) indicated that the Viracocha Pampa architectural block is made up of the same basic structural types as Pikillacta. Although the Viracocha Pampa architectural block is considerably smaller, and has a lower density of structures, it is still the most directly comparable site to Pikillacta. Its context within the macro-system of the empire and the replication of the “Greater Site” micro-system—in terms of segmentation and intrasite linkage—are also comparable to “Greater Pikillacta”. It is probable, then, that the overall functions of these two sites were very similar and that they both were meant to serve as provincial capitals in the Wari Empire.
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Azangaro Azangaro is a large Wari administrative architectural block located in Huanta, in the Ayacucho Basin of the Central Highlands. This site has been studied in detail by Martha Anders, who concluded that it represents a state administration installation (Anders 1986). The macro- and micro-systemic features are again present at this site and it can be interpreted as the “Greater Azangaro” site in this sense. Discrete functional units appear to be present both within, just outside and adjacent to the main architectural block. These units seem to be in greater proximity than is the case at Pikillacta and Viracocha Pampa, but this may be a reflection of unique local circumstances and/or the fact that this site is of a different order of magnitude than the others. Wall and canal systems also provide linkage for these various components. The architectural block at Azangaro measures 175 x 447 meters and is divided into three major sector: North, Central, and South (Anders 1982:6). Each of these sectors contains a different architectural arrangement. The South Sector of Azangaro consists of a type of architecture that departs radically from the rigid planning of the rest of the block (Anders 1982:6). Anders (personal communication 1984) suggests that this area represents local domestic architecture as opposed to state architecture. This area can perhaps shed light on what the occupations may have looked like in the non-elite residential sectors of “Greater Pikillacta”, Qolqe Haycuchina and Minaspata for example. This may explain why there is Wari occupation refuse on these sites but no distinctive architectural forms. The overall function of the Azangaro complex was apparently administrative, but it was probably of a lower order in the administrative hierarchy of the Empire than either Pikillacta or Viracocha Pampa. Nevertheless the typical administrative state architecture is present as well as other features of Wari state planning.
Jincamocco
Jincamocco, a Wari state architectural block located in the Department of Ay acucho, in the Central Highlands, has been investigated by Katharina Schreiber (1978, 1983). It is of a lower order of magnitude in the administrative hierarchy than the sites previously discussed, and probably only had responsibility for the administration of a single valley. Although in this sense it is probably not di rectly comparable to Pikillacta, it has the advantage of being perhaps the most thoroughly studied Wari administrative site—in terms of both the administra tive centre and the territory administered—and clearly partakes of many of the principles applied at larger centres, such as Pikillacta. The administrative architectural block at Jincamocco measures approxi mately 130 x 250 meters but only an area of 130 x 150 meters is well preserved (Schreiber 1978:7). Schreiber’s (1983:3) excavations indicated that a wide vari-
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ety of activities were carried out in these structures and that the overall function of the architectural block was as a generalised administrative centre.
In her study of the Carahuarazo Valley (in which Jincamocco is located), Schreiber (1983:3) notes the presence of three satellite Wari sites, each located at strategic points. She also suggests that the Middle Horizon sites in the valley were linked together—and to the centre of the Empire—by a major road constructed during the Wari occupation. Thus, it appears that features of both the macro- (state) and micro- (site) organisational principles of Wari administration are present. The various features of macro- and micro-planning, and their consistent occurrence at major Wari installations forcefully suggests that the Wari state employed the concept of centralised planning. The remarkable uniformity of structural types in state architecture found over a wide and diverse area suggests that a specific state function may have been associated with each structural type as well as at each discrete functional unit of the overall site plan. Such centralised planning is the hallmark of a highly developed centralised government. The physical manifestations of this government—the Wari provincial administrative sites—are thus a key element in support of the case for a centralised Wari Empire.
Summary Pikillacta appears to be the product of a specific set of site planning principles generated at the state level and with antecedents at the capital, Wari. Adminis trative sites throughout the highlands seem to be patterned on these principles, with adaptations and adjustments made for local conditions. Pikillacta appears to have functioned as a second echelon regional or provincial capital and to have presided over a potentially large hinterland, based on the distribution and scale of Wari sites in the Southern Highlands.
The site of Viracocha Pampa in the North Highlands—the only highland Wari site on a scale comparable to Pikillacta—appears to have had a similar function. Located on the primary North-South axis, Pikillacta and Viracocha Pampa—together with the capital at Wari—seem to have been the three principal highland nodes of the Wari Empire. These sites, then, reflect the structure of a highly organised and very centralised imperial state. More research is badly needed in order to establish more firmly the structure of the provincial organisations. Very few Wari sites below the level of regional administrative centres have been studied in any detail. This is partly due to their being overlooked because of the absence of an administrative architectural block in typical Wari style. Until now it has been these blocks of architecture that have drawn attention of investigators, and little or no attention has been paid to the archaeological environments in which they exist. Many more diachronic studies of highland valley settlement patterns, such as Schreiber’s (1983) investigation of
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Jincamocco and the surrounding Carahuarazo Valley in the Central Highlands, are needed.
The patterns emerging from the work that has been done suggest that the impact of the Wari Empire on the Peruvian cultural environment was profound. A massive reordering of society with a focus toward secular interests has been noted by Schaedel (1966a). Schreiber (1983) also sees evidence of massive reorganisations in her work in the Carahuarazo Valley. The Wari seem to have concentrated on centralising control within their territory and, in the process, raised the level of local organisation throughout the Empire to a certain level of uniformity. This process had a profound effect on the subsequent culture history of Peru and set the stage for the emergence of future state level organisations.
Acknowledgements-. The fieldwork on which this paper is based was carried out under credential No. 067-51 from the Instituto Nacional de Cultura in Lima. The work was supported by National Science Foundation grant #BNS-5112729. I would like to express my thanks to Nancy McEwan, Jean-Pierre, Elsbeth, and Maurice Protzen, Jeff King, and Elisabeth Blulle, who all assisted in the survey of the Lucre Basin. Thanks are also due to the staff of the Instituto Nacional de Cultura regional Cuzco, especially Italo Oberti, Alfredo Valencia, and Ruben Orellana, for their kind assistance.
Bibliography Anders, M.B. 1986 Dual Organization and Calendars Inferred from the Planned Site of Azángaro: Wari Administrative Strategies. Unpublished Ph.D. disser tation, Cornell University.
1982 Wari experiments in statecraft. Paper Presented at the Sixth Andean Archaeology Colloquium, April 25-29, The University of Texas at Austin. Barreda, L. 1952 Asentamiento humano de los Qotakalli de Cuzco. In Arqueología de Cuzco, Instituto Nacional de Cultura, Regional de Cuzco, pp. 13-20. Brewster-Wray, C.C. 1983 Spatial patterning and the function of a Huari architectural compound. In Investigations of the Andean Past, edited by D. Sandweiss, pp. 122135. Latin American Studies Program, Cornell University. Brundage, B.C. 1967 Empire of the Inca. University of Oklahoma Press, Norman. Dwyer, E.B. 1971a A Chanapata figurine from Cuzco. Nawpa Pacha 9:32-36.
1971b The Early Inca Occupation of the Valley of Cuzco, Peru. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of California, Berkeley. 69
Ford, J.A. 1954 The history of a Peruvian valley. Scientific American 191(2):28-34. Isbell, W.H. 1977 The Rural Foundation for Urbanism: Economic and Stylistic Interac tion between Rural and Urban Communities in Eighth Century Peru. University of Illinois Press, Urbana. 1978 Environmental perturbations and the origin of the Andean state. In Social Archaeology: Beyond Subsistence and Dating, edited by C. Redman et al., pp. 303-313. Academic Press, New York.
Isbell, W.H. and K.J. Schreiber 1975 Was Wari a state? American Antiquity 43:372-359. Lumbreras, L.G. 1974 The Peoples and Cultures of Ancient Peru. Translated by B.J. Meggers, Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington, D.C. McCown, T.D. 1945 Pre-Incaic Huamachuco; survey and excavations in Northern Peru. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 39(4):223-400. University of California Press, Berkeley. McEwan, Gordon F. 1979 Principles of Wari Settlement Planning. Unpublished Master’s Thesis, The University of Texas at Austin. 1980 Principles of Wari administrative site planning. Unpublished Mms. Menzel, D. 1964 Style and Time in the Middle Horizon. Nawpa Pacha 2:1-105.
1968 New Data on the Huari Empire in Middle Horizon Epoch 2A. Nawpa Pacha 6:47-114.
1977 The Archaeology of Ancient Peru and the Work of Max Uhle. R.H. Lowie Museum, Berkeley. Rowe, J.H. 1944 An introduction to the archaeology of Cuzco. Papers of the Peabody Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology 27(2). Yale Unversity Press, New Haven.
1956 Archaeological explorations in Southern Peru, 1954-1955. American Antiquity 22(2):135-151. 1963 Urban settlements in ancient Peru. Nawpa Pacha 1:1-27. Sanders, William T. 1973 The significance of Pikillacta in Andean culture history. Occasional Papers in Anthropology, Pennsylvania State University 8:380-428. Schaedel, R.P. 1951 Mochica murals at Panamarca. Archaeology 4(3):145-154. 1966a Incipient urbanization and secularization in Tiahuanacoid Peru. Amer ican Antiquity 31(3):338-344.
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Schaedel, R.P. (cont.) 1966b Urban growth and ekistics on the Peruvian coast. XXXVI Congreso Internacional de Americanistas vol. 1:531-539. Schreiber, K.J. 1978 Planned Architecture of Middle Horizon Peru: Implications for Social and Political Organization. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, State University of New York at Binghamton. 1983 Huari provincial administration: a perspective from the Carahuarazo Valley. Paper presented at the 45th annual meeting of the Society of American Archaeology, April 25-30. Pittsburgh, PA. Spickard, Lynda E. 1983 The Development of Huari administrative architecture. In Investigations of the Andean Past, edited by D. Sandweiss, pp 136-160. Latin American Studies Program, Cornell University. Thatcher, J.P. 1974 Early Intermediate Period and Middle Horizon IB ceramic assemblages of Huamachuco, North Highlands, Peru. Nawpa Pacha 10—12:109-125. 1977 A Middle Horizon IB Cache from Huamachuco, North Highlands, Peru. Ñawpa Pacha 15:101-110.
Topic, J.R. and T. Lange Topic 1983 Huamachuco Archaeological Project: Preliminary Report on the Second Season, June-August 1982. Trent University, Peterborough, Ontario. Willey, G.R. 1953 Pre-Historic Settlement Patterns in the Virú Valley, Peru. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin, No. 155. Washington, D.C.
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A speculative hypothesis of Wari southern expansion Robert A. Feldman J
Early in the study of Andean archaeology, remains of two great indigenous pre Inka states were discovered in the Central Andes: Tiwanaku in Bolivia and Wari in Peru (figure 1). Close resemblances between their iconography were noted (for example, Uhle 1903) and these lead to the postulation of connections or contacts between the two areas. Since the Bolivian centre was the first recognised by archaeologists and had the more impressive ruins, it was common to speak of the Peruvian manifestations as “coastal Tiwanaku” styles. Even with the recognition of a second imperial centre at Wari (Tello 1939; Larco 1948; Rowe, Collier, and Willey 1950; Bennett 1953; Rowe 1956), Peruvian styles were still considered a part of an interrelated Tiwanaku horizon. Studies of the last 30 years have challenged the notion that key features of Wari imperial culture derived from Tiwanaku and have done much to clarify our understanding of Tiwanaku and Wari by pointing out the differences between the two cultures. Despite these advances in our understanding of these two Andean states, a number of important issues about their origins, spread, and interaction remain unresolved.
We can see that Tiwanaku’s roots were in the long-standing altiplano cultural tradition expressed in the Chiripa, Pukará, and Qaluyu styles (Browman 1978, 1985; Conklin 1983; Kolata 1983; Ponce 1970, 1980). Wari, in contrast, appears to have begun with an amalgamation of cultural influences derived from the south coastal Nasca tradition, the altiplano tradition expressed at Pukará and later at Tiwanaku, and the local traditions of the Ayacucho region (Isbell 1983; Isbell and Cook 1987; Menzel 1964; Lumbreras 1974a). An unresolved question then, is if the common Pukará-like iconography reached Wari and Tiwanaku independently or via one or the other of the two centres.
This paper will not directly address the above question of origins, but will focus instead on the early phase of Wari imperial expansion and will briefly examine ideas of Wari and Tiwanaku interaction. Using new data on Cerro Baúl, an early Wari frontier site in Moquegua (far southern Peru), it will then present a hypothesis of Wari expansion and interaction with Tiwanaku that attempts to explain the Wari presence in Moquegua, an area beyond Wari’s established frontier and one dominated by Tiwanaku.
J Field Museum of Natural History, Chicago, Illinois 72
Figure 1: Map of southern Peru, showning major archaeological sites (triangles) and modern cities (squares).
Wari-Tiwanaku interactions While Wari was largely contemporaneous with Tiwanaku and the iconography they share is taken by many scholars to indicate contact between them, little is known about how or even to what extent these empires interacted. Three major models have been developed to explain the appearance of “Tiwanaku” iconography at Wari. 73
The first model that was proposed saw Tiwanaku as the centre of innovation from which iconographic and political concepts developed in Bolivia spread to Peru (Uhle 1903; Posnansky 1945; Ponce 1969). In the second model, the two great sites of Tiwanaku and Wari are seen as complementary, with an initial stimulus coming out of Tiwanaku, but with subsequent development at Wari, from which Tiwanaku motifs that were cross-fertilised with ones from Nazca were spread militarily throughout much of the Central Andes (Browman 1985; Lumbreras 1974a, 1974b; Menzel 1964, 1968, 1977). The third and most recent model posits an intermediate centre north of Lake Titicaca from which basic concepts spread first to the Wari area (perhaps by itinerant healers similar to the Callawaya), where they were further developed, and from there the new iconography and, by implication, ideology was transmitted to Tiwanaku (Cook 1983; Isbell 1983, 1984-85; Isbell and Cook 1987).
Another relevant model is that of David Browman (1978, 1980, 1984, 1985), which deals with the later stages of Wari-Tiwanaku interaction. Browman suggests that the two states were in commercial contact and that with the collapse of Wari, Tiwanaku established colonies to provide goods that it formerly obtained by trade from Wari. Interestingly, all of the above models invoke peaceful contacts as means for transmittal of the shared iconography between the two cultures, even though Wari expansion is generally seen as militaristic.
It is important to note that the possible contacts between Tiwanaku and Wari have been tracked almost entirely through iconographic similarities. This fact may distort our understanding of the processes involved, for while some extremely close parallels exist between the art of these empires, as seen in textiles of both (Sawyer 1963; Conklin 1983) or the painted ceramics of Robles Moqo at Wari and the carved stone of the “Gateway of the Sun” at Tiwanaku (Menzel 1977; Posnansky 1945), the architecture of Tiwanaku and Wari—which should reflect their basic organisational features much more closely than their art—is very different (Conklin 1985).
Surviving Tiwanaku architecture emphasises massive stone-faced platforms with megalithic gateways and carved stone stelae that prominently and publicly display official iconography (Bennett 1936; Posnansky 1945; Ponce 1969, 1980), while Wari architecture is characterised by walled compounds with complex internal groupings of rooms, courts, walkways, and multi-story galleries (Spickard 1983). Such architectural differences suggest that there were major political differences between these two contemporary states. Little iconographic decoration of Wari architecture has been observed, which, combined with the structures’ layouts, suggests a much more closed or regimented society.
The spread of the Wari state
Uncertainty surrounds the apparent speed with which the Wari state spread from its Ayacucho centre. The foundings of almost all Wari “provincial centres” fall in one part—possibly only 50 years long—of Middle Horizon epoch IB (P. 74
Knobloch, personal communication). The question then is, how did this rapid spread take place?
While the most common view is that Wari expanded militarily and exercised political and economic control over conquered territories, some dissenting voices have nonetheless been raised. Theresa Topic (1985) has argued that the Wari presence around Huamachuco in northern Peru was motivated by trade with areas farther to the north and that the Wari centre of Viracochapampa was built with the consent and aid of the local elite. She sees Wari as using, but not controlling, local labour resources, so that when local support at Viracochapampa was withdrawn, construction stopped and the centre was abandoned in an unfinished state. David Browman (1984) presents a similar interpretation for Moche and Cajamarca, arguing that they were not conquered by Wari but entered into political alliances with Ayacucho. He also sees commercial relations as an important factor, and has hypothesised that Tiwanaku maintained trade with Wari and with groups on the south and central coasts of Peru. These trade contacts provided a means by which political and religious ideas could travel between groups.
These analyses suggest that we cannot accept a blanket explanation for all aspects of Wari expansion. We need more information on how Wari provincial sites functioned in order to evaluate how the empire expanded, an observation that leads us to the next set of questions.
Function of Wari state-built centres
Although a number of studies of Wari “provincial centres” (a term that implies that we know more about these sites than we do) have been undertaken (see Anders 1985, Harth-Terré 1959; McCown 1945; McEwan 1984, 1985; Sanders 1973; Schreiber 1978, 1985, 1987a, 1987b; J. Topic 1985, for example), questions about how they functioned still remain. If the Wari state spread militarily, how did it control and administer the new territories? Were the provincial centres military garrisons, with troops billeted in the many small rooms that are called storerooms by some? Could the provincial centres have started as trading enclaves (Renfrew 1975) that provided a point of penetration from which the Wari later rose to conquer their hosts? Or were Wari provincial administrative centres just that, centres built to control already conquered territory (Isbell and Schreiber 1978; Schreiber 1987a)? Large blocks of small rooms within some Wari complexes have been called “storerooms” (Sanders 1973; Isbell 1977; Isbell and Schreiber 1978; McCown 1945), but some investigators question this interpretation. Martha Anders (1985), for example, suggests a ritual/calendrical use for the “storerooms” at Azangaro. Gordon McEwan (1985) argues that the rooms at Pikillacta were habitations used by military troops or rmt’a-like corvée labourers. Clearly, more information is needed about the kinds of goods (such as food, raw materials, high 75
status artefacts) that moved through the provincial sites and in which direction they moved.
New evidence Until recently, models of contacts between Tiwanaku and Wari could not be tested “in the ground”, since the known distribution of their settlements did not overlap. Wari state presence in the highlands was thought to extend southeast beyond Cuzco to Sicuani and along the coast south to the Sihuas drainage, just north of Arequipa (figure 1). Despite allegedly Tiwanaku features at sites near Cuzco, such as Ollantaytambo, the Tiwanaku state appears to have kept to a more southerly sphere: known sites on the coast were not found north of Moquegua or much beyond the Titicaca basin in the altiplano. The resulting distribution made it appear that there was a buffer zone or “no-man’s-land” between the two empires (Browman 1984; Lumbreras 1974b; Mujica, Rivera, and Lynch 1983).
This picture changed with the discovery of Cerro Baúl and two other Wari sites (figures 2 and 5) in Moquegua (Lumbreras, Mujica, and Vera 1982; Watanabe 1984; Moseley et al. 1985). While the work is still in a preliminary stage, we can see that Cerro Baúl, a Wari state settlement, is important because it is a classic “site-unit intrusion” (Willey et al. 1956) that dates to the first major phase of Wari imperial expansion. Even if Moquegua was not occupied by Tiwanaku at the time of the Wari entry, it clearly was in Tiwanaku’s “backyard” and was economically and culturally integrated with Tiwanaku after the collapse of the Wari empire (Goldstein, in press). The Moquegua settlements thus provide a unique opportunity both to examine how Wari settlements functioned in the shadow of Tiwanaku and to look for points of interaction between the two states. In Browman’s words, Cerro Baúl “.. .may turn out to be our chronological Rosetta stone for finally working out the precise temporal relationships between Middle Horizon epochs in Peru and the Tiwanaku phases in Bolivia” (Browman 1985:67). The salient features of Cerro Baúl and the other Wari sites in Moquegua are: 1: The architectural pattern on Cerro Baúl, and to a lesser extent, Cerro Mejia, closely follows an imperial Wari plan and is distinct from that of local Tiwanaku sites. 2: Pottery dates the Wari occupation to between the beginning of Middle Horizon 1 and the early part of Middle Horizon 2. 3: A significant proportion of the fancy decorated pottery appears either to have been manufactured in the Wari core area of Ayacucho and transported to Moquegua or made in Moquegua by Wari artisans. 4: Cerro Baúl and Cerro Mejia are built in inaccessible locations and are surrounded by walls and other access controls or defensive works. 5: Cerro Baúl occurs as an outpost beyond the frontier that Wari subse quently established. 6: These Wari settlements show variability in size and internal organisation, which possibly indicates they formed a local site hierarchy. 76
Figure 2. Map of the Moquegua Valley. The archaeological sites are: (1): Omo; (2) Chen Chen; (3) Cerro Trapiche; (4) Cerro Enchenique; (5) Pampa Huaracane; (6) Yaway; (7) Cerro Baúl; and (8) Cerro Mejia. The middle agricultural zones are: (A-B) Zone 1; (B-C) Zone 2; (C-D) Zone 3; (D-E) Zone 4; (E-F) Zone 5. 77
7: The Wari sites occur in a valley with ample evidence of Titicaca basin cultural relationships that extended back to sites related to Pukará and Chiripa as well as Classic Tiwanaku.
Nature of the Moquegua data The following sections describe the physical and cultural setting in Moquegua and the nature of the archaeological evidence that can be brought to bear on the issues raised above.
Physical setting of Moquegua
The Moquegua (or Rio Osmore) Valley (figures 1 and 2) is a small drainage that nonetheless offers good agricultural potential. Spanish colonial records tell us that Moquegua supplied maize to the Aymara polities near Lake Titicaca (Diez de San Miguel 1964; Julien 1985; Murra 1964), indicating an historical link with the Titicaca basin. The presence of major Tiwanaku fields, settlements, and cemeteries (figure 2:1 and 2:2) in the middle valley shows that this area was a focus of Tiwanaku agricultural exploitation (Disselhoff 1968; Feldman 1985, n.d.; Goldstein 1985, in press; Goldstein and Feldman 1986).
The mid-valley area (between 1,000 and 3,000 meters above sea level) can be divided into five elevationally defined environmental zones (figure 2). Cerro Baúl is located at the juncture of the third and fourth zones, while the majority of Tiwanaku and earlier occupations are lower—in Zones 1 and 2. Although the lower two zones seldom receive any appreciable rainfall, they have the greatest expanses of flat land, which can easily be farmed with the aid of simple irrigation canals (Goldstein in press; Goldstein and Feldman 1986). While the upper two zones—from 2000 to 3000 meters—occasionally receive rainfall, agriculture there also depends on irrigation. The terrain in these zones is steeper than in the lower zones and farming requires the construction of stone-faced terraces. The Late Intermediate Period saw a shift or expansion upward into the higher two zones (4 and 5), and most terrace construction has been dated to this time (Stanish 1985, 1987).
Altiplano occupations of Moquegua: Tiwanaku and earlier
Pre-Tiwanaku Evidence of strong altiplano and interzonal cultural relationships is found in the earliest pottery in Moquegua, that of the Huaracane phase (Feldman in press). One ware of this pottery is characterised by fiber tempering and is similar to the Bolivian altiplano styles of Chiripa (Bennett 1936) and Wankarani (Ponce 1970) and to the Chilean Faldas del Morro style (Bird 1943; Nuñez 1965). Huaracane
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Figure 3: Northeast end of Cerro Baúl, seen from the saddle between it and Cerro Mejia. Some of the possible defensive walls can be seen on the slopes from the middle of the photograph up to the base of the vertical cliff. 79
pottery has been found at a number of sites in Zones 1 and 2, especially at Pampa Huaracane (figure 2:5) and Yaway (figure 2:6). Habitations and ceremonial structures on Pampa Huaracane appear to be associated with a series of poorly preserved irrigation canals. No radiocarbon dates have been secured for the Huaracane material in Moquegua, but similar ceramics in Chile have been dated to between 900 and 1500 BC (C. Santoro, personal communication) and in Bolivia to between 800 and 1300 BC (Browman 1980; Ponce 1980; Kolata 1983). Paul Goldstein has potential evidence from the M10 Omo site for a late survival of the Huaracane phase, possibly up to Tiwanaku IV times (P. Goldstein, personal communication). There is evidence of Pukara cultural contacts in Moquegua during the succeeding Trapiche phase (Feldman in press). Whereas Pukara textiles and pottery have been found in Moquegua, only textiles have been recovered in the Azapa Valley of northern Chile during the Alto Ramirez phase (Rivera 1976, 1980). Differences between Trapiche phase pottery and that at Pukara suggest that the Moquegua pottery was produced locally and was not a highland trade item. (cf. Nunez and Dillehay 1979). It has been found at three sites in Zone 2, most notably at Cerro Trapiche (figure 2:3). As with the Huaracane phase sites, we have no dates—but the pottery seems to correlate with the latter half of the sequence at Pukara, and its manufacture could have lasted as late as AD 300 or 400 (E. Mujica, personal communication; M. Rivera, personal communication).
Tiwanaku
The Tiwanaku occupation of both coastal and mid-valley Moquegua was the subject of preliminary work by Disselhoff, Ravines, and others in the early 1960’s (Disselhoff 1968; Ravines 1969). Studies by the author, Garth Bawden, Paul Goldstein, Luis Watanabe, and others with the Contisuyu Program in 19831987 identified more than a dozen additional sites that are concentrated in the coastal area and the lower two mid-valley agricultural zones, where farming— probably of maize—was supported by canal systems that reclaimed relatively flat lands. The associated mid-valley settlements, which have been most intensively studied by Paul Goldstein, range from multi-room farmsteads (Feldman n.d.) to nucleated communities of hundreds of structures clustered around open plazas— at times with monumental structures and small carved stone stelae (Goldstein 1985, in press, personal communication).
Most of the Tiwanaku sites have abundant decorated Chen Chen Phase ce ramics (equivalent to Ponce’s Tiwanaku V) (Goldstein 1985, in press; Goldstein and Feldman 1986), which have been radiocarbon dated to between ca. AD 900 and 1100 (Disselhoff 1968; Geyh 1967; Ravines 1969). Omo Phase (late Ti wanaku IV) remains—though less common—are present, especially at the M12 and M16 components of the large mid-valley centre of Omo (figure 2:1). A village and large agricultural area across the Rio Tumilaca from Cerro Baril, at the juncture of Zones 3 and 4, may date to the Omo Phase, but Moquegua Tiwanaku sites did not occur in the fourth and fifth agricultural zones until late in the sequence (Stanish 1985, 1987). The onset of Tiwanaku occupation in 80
Moquegua is not firmly established, but Phase IV elsewhere dates as early as AD 375-700 (Browman 1985; Isbell 1983; Kolata 1983).
Wari sites in Moquequa
Field work by the Contisuyu Program has so far identified three large sites with Wari components: Cerro Baúl, Cerro Mejia, and Cerro Trapiche. These sites show different types of occupation and different degrees of internal complexity, which suggest that there either was a sequence of local site development or a functional hierarchy among Wari sites in Moquegua.
Cerro Baúl
Cerro Baúl, a large, sheer-sided mesa towering some 600 meters over its base, rises between the Torata and Tumilaca rivers (figures 2:7 and 3). Wari architecture covers much of its summit and forms the largest complex of monumental architecture in Moquegua. In seeming conflict with the large size of its settlement, the summit of Cerro Baúl is located an hour’s climb above the nearest source of water. Building and maintaining such an architectural complex so far from the Wari capital in Ayacucho must have required substantial political control, labour forces and agricultural resources.
Summit architecture
After climbing up a long—and at times nearly vertical path—and after passing a series of terraces, walls and switchback defensive controls, one reaches the flat summit of the mesa. Remains of large masonry buildings are concentrated in the eastern and central areas of Baúl’s kilometer-long summit. There is no evidence of construction in the western section, other than a low rectangular mound (figure and some associated terraces. The central section has a number of large pits (figure J:c) which were probably where construction stone was quarried. These pits may later have been used as cisterns for collecting and storing rain water. Other structural remains in the central sector include large, low-walled open rooms or courts.
The clearest architectural preservation is in the eastern sector—but the preservation of form is notably poorer in the extreme east, even though wall-fall and pot sherds are abundant there. Rooms in the eastern end of the summit seem to be smaller and/or less regularly laid out than those just to the west. Exactly what the nature of the apparent differences is (such as whether temporal, status/functional or material variations influenced construction) awaits excavation of the architecture. 81
Path
Figure 4: Sketch plan of the summit of Cerro Baúl. (Adapted from Watanabe 1984).
The better-preserved architecture (figures 5 and 6) is formed of rectilinear rough-stone structures with single and occassionally multi-story rooms, galleries, corridors and courts. For example, the architectural unit labeled “a” in figure 5 is formed of three contiguous two-story rooms on the north side and rows of narrow rooms on the west and east sides. On the south, a wall encloses the courtyard. Other similar clusters of courtyards and long, narrow rooms in section 1-2 of the summit are faintly visible in the oblique aerial photograph (figure 6). Because of the summit’s slope, courts to the north and south of the midline ridge are terraced down towards the edge of the mesa. 82
Approximate Scale Figure 5: Sketch plan of the main architectural units on the summit of Cerro Baul.
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The pattern differs markedly from that of local Tiwanaku centres both in plan and in construction. At the earlier components (M-12 and M-16) of the Moquegua Tiwanaku site of Omo (Goldstein in press; Goldstein and Feldman 1986), rectangular rooms with proportions of less than 2:1 are placed end-to-end in a number of parallel rows. The spacing is more open, and where there are plazas, they are larger, and are not surrounded by rooms as they are on Cerro Baúl.
Figure 6: Aerial view of the architecture on the eastern part of
Cerro Baul’s summit, from the southwest.
Both William Isbell (personal communications) and Luis Lumbreras (per sonal communications) have noted that the architectural patterning on Cerro Baúl rather closely follows that of Wari itself (Spickard 1983). It appears as an intrusion into the architectural tradition of Moquegua, and does not reappear after the Wari withdrawal from Moquegua.
Ceramics
Ceramic remains, including utilitarian forms and a relatively high frequency of elite decorated wares, are common on the summit of Cerro Baúl. Significantly. 84
the decorated ceramics lack local antecedents. Rather, they are very close copies or even imports of styles from Wari, including Okros, Chakipampa, Vinaque and Qosqopa (Lumbreras, Mujica, and Vera 1982; Watanabe 1984; W. Isbell, personal communication). These close ceramic crossties are important, for—taken together with the distinctive architecture—they allow us to identify Cerro Baul as a Wari state intrusion that penetrated foreign territory, established a monumental presence and then withdrew, all probably within less than a century—between approximately AD 600 and 700.
Non-ceramic artefacts
Non-ceramic artefacts found on Cerro Baul include obsidian projectile points, large grindstones, and concentrations of “turquoise” or chrysocolla. The obsidian points-—which are distinct from local Tiwanaku forms—are similar to points from Wari (J. Stone, personal communication). No local obsidian source has been identified, although one near Baul has been reported by local residents (L. Watanabe, personal communication). The grindstones, which are made from boulders that were hauled to the top of the mesa, might have been used in mineral processing (Watanabe 1984). However, since they are similar to ones used for food processing at other sites, the latter use is more likely. The ‘turquoise” concentrations might represent mineral processing or craft production loci.
Cerro Mejia
Adjacent to Cerro Baul is a lower, rounded hill called Cerro Mejia (figures 2:8 and 3). Between them is a saddle through which a maximum elevation canal passed and from which the path up Baul leads. Below the canal are agricultural terraces, while a small grouping of rectangular and corral-like structures sits just above the saddle. On the side of Cerro Mejia that faces the saddle, a wide set of stairs leads up from walls (figure 7:A) encircling the hill. The summit has scattered stone-walled room groups and smaller—possibly later—habitations. Some of the architectural units follow the characteristic Wari pattern of large rooms surrounded by narrow galleries (figure 7:B) , but these constructions are less elaborate than those on Cerro Baul.
Wari-related artefacts on the summit and slopes of Cerro Mejia include small amounts of obsidian projectile points and Middle Horizon 1 Okros pottery. Refuse is not common, and other evidence of domestic activity, including utilitarian pottery and grindstones, is less frequent than on Cerro Baúl. Concentrations of chipping debris suggest that there might have been special purpose activity areas. 85
Figure 7: Aerial view of the summit of Cerro Mejia, from the northeast. (A) upper perimeter wall; (B) Wari-style architectural unit. The differences between Cerro Mejia and Cerro Baúl indicate variability among the local Wari sites. Cerro Mejia appears to have been secondary to Cerro Baúl. Mejia could have had less ritual activity and more residential or production functions. Alternatively, Cerro Mejia could have been earlier than Cerro Baúl: it might have been built as a temporary administrative centre (in the manure of Chimu rural administrative sites [Keatinge 1974]) which oversaw the construction of the formal settlement on the much less accessible mesa top.
Cerro Trapiche
Cerro Trapiche (figures 2:3 and 8) is a fortified hill that controls the lower neck of the mid-valley area, where Zone 2 narrows into Zone 1 (figures 2 and 8fi and commands the view both up and down the valley.
The occupation at Cerro Trapiche covers the hill from the summit down almost to the river. There are two pitted monumental structures (figure 8:A), one of which has yielded polychrome Trapiche Phase (Pukara) sherds and textiles (Feldman 1985, in press) These structures were probably solid terraced platforms, possibly with internal burials (Moseley et al. 1985). Occupation areas (figure 8:C) and cemeteries in the lower part of the site are much later 86
Figure 8: Aerial view of Cerro Trapiche, from the southeast. (A) Destroyed Trapiche Phase (Pukaraa-contemporary) architecture; (B) domestic terraces with evidence of Wari occupation; (C) Tumilaca Phase (Late Tiwanaku) occupation areas; (D) summit fortifications.
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and date to the Chen Chen and Tumilaca (late Tiwanaku V) Phases. A domestic occupation on stone-faced terraces at the base of the hill (figure 8:B) has produced Wari obsidian artefacts and pottery—including Okros sherds and one sherd attributed to the Warpa (Cruz Pata) style (L. Lumbreras, personal communication). Additional Wari sherds have been found on the surface of the summit fortifications (figure 8:D), but we cannot as yet clearly associate the pottery with these constructions (which might date from Trapiche Phase times).
It is important to understand the chronology of Cerro Trapiche, as it is one of the rare multi-component sites in Moquegua—with occupations both earlier and later than Wari. It is a strategically located site that overlooks the rich agricultural lands of both the first and second zones (as Cerro Baúl controls the third and fourth zones). In addition, it has Moquegua’s only unfortified Wari habitation site. Whether these habitations are associated with the summit fortification or the pitted structures are significant—and as yet unanswered— points in evaluating the nature and degree of Wari control over Moquegua.
A hypothesis of Wari southern expansion Because of its close similarities to the site of Wari itself—and its position on the southern frontier of the empire—Cerro Baúl and the other Wari settlements in Moquegua allow us to examine archaeologically a number of important cultural processes. Even though Cerro Baúl is a small Wari state settlement built in a small valley, it is an important site because Moquegua does not appear to have been fully incorporated within Wari’s borders and the earlier stages of political, economic and settlement integration should therefore not be masked by later stages, as they were in other, more central areas. Thus, in this variant of the “small site methodology” (Moseley and Mackey 1972), we can examine the means by which Wari imperial control was first exerted. If Moquegua was in the Tiwanaku sphere before the arrival of the Wari—as we hypothesise to have been the case (Feldman, in press; Goldstein, in press), the Moquegua sites could also provide the opportunity to test models of interaction between the two states.
Wari expansion It is significant that construction at most Wari provincial centres began in Middle Horizon epoch IB (Schreiber 1978, 1987a; P. Knobloch, personal communication)—a span of time estimated to be only 50-100 years long (Menzel 1977; Isbell 1983). The ceramic evidence suggests a rapid imperial expansion, which is usually interpreted as military in nature1. Although most researchers see Wari military expansion out to its established frontiers, the major models of Wari-Tiwanaku interaction all employ peaceful contacts between the two empires. I would like to argue that there was not this
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dichotomy between Wari “internal” and “external” relations. In the shortened oral version of this paper I presented a speculative hypothesis that the Wari state engaged in a concerted effort to expand militarily southward to encompass the rich Titicaca basin within its territory. In this hypothesis, as Wari armies advanced toward the lake, they came into contact with groups allied with Tiwanaku. This resistence diverted the Wari advance toward Moquegua.
At this point, Cerro Baúl and the Moquegua area could have offered several inducements over the altiplano for the establishment of a Wari frontier outpost to maintain the pressure on Tiwanaku’s flanks. The valley’s climate and good maize-growing capacity may have appealed to the Wari if, as has been suggested, they focused on maize cultivation and were responsible for the spread of certain varieties of maize in the central Andes (Schreiber 1987a; Browman 1984; Browman and Bird 1978). Yet despite these advantages, Cerro Baúl’s inaccessible location and defensive works indicate a continuing state of hostilities between the invading Wari and the nearby—or even surrounding—Tiwanaku. Contact between Wari and Tiwanaku—although through armed conflict— provides a means by which Tiwanaku motifs could have been appropriated by Wari. Lumbreras (personal communication) notes that the Wari pottery of Cerro Baúl does not show the “Tiwanaku” motifs found at later Wari sites, such as Pikillacta. Thus, it seems likely that Cerro Baúl dates to the period during which these motifs were first introduced into the Wari state culture. The exact means of this appropriation are still unclear, although both Lumbreras and Michael Moseley (personal communications) have speculated that some of the visible destruction of the monumental architecture at Tiwanaku might have been caused by Wari armies. When we look at Wari administrative centres south of Ayacucho for evidence to test the hypotheses of Wari expansion, we do not see a clear pattern of where centres with the characteristic Wari layout (rectangular walled compounds with internal divisions including courts with narrow galleries and corridors with restricted access patterns) were built. Schreiber (1987a) has hypothesised that the extent of Wari alteration of the settlement pattern in the provinces and the establishment of Wari political centres depended on the degree of political centralisation existing in the region before its incorporation into the Wari state. Her analysis is similar to that of Menzel for the Inka occupation of the south coast of Peru (Menzel 1959) and undoubtedly is part of the explanation. In addition to Cerro Baúl, Wari centres south of Ayacucho have been reported at Pikillacta in the Lucre Basin near Cuzco (Sanders 1973; McEwan 1984, 1985) and at Jincamocco in the Carahuarazo Valley in the southern part of the Department of Ayacucho, between Wari and Nazca (Schreiber 1978, 1985, 1987a). The Lucre Basin was a major demographic centre, which contrasts with the less intensive occupation in the Carahuarazo Valley—yet both areas have formal Wari centres. Other areas, such as Andahuaylas (Grossman 1983) and Sicuani in the Department of Cuzco (Rowe 1956, 1963), show changes in their settlement pattern during the Wari period, but these areas apparently did not 89
have the formalised Wari centres that might be expected. We lack data on the crucial zone between Sicuani and Lake Titicaca. On the basis of presently known sites, we cannot make a direct correlation between local political development and the presence or absence of Wari administrative centers. We note, however, that the Wari sites discussed above lack the defensive posture of Cerro Baúl. This observation suggests that in contrast to Cerro Baúl—located on the Wari frontier and dating early in the expansion of the empire—they were built after their areas were under Wari military control. We need more information on how these Wari provincial sites functioned in order to evaluate how the empire expanded and established its authority.
Conclusions We can restate a number of hypotheses from our reconstruction of past events:
1: Wari-Tiwanaku interaction: Wari’s southern expansion came into mili tary conflict with Tiwanaku or its allies, with Wari possibly sacking the Tiwanaku capital. 2: Spread of “Tiwanaku” iconography: Tiwanaku iconographie elements in Wari art were appropriated by Wari during its military confrontation with Tiwanaku. 3: Wari control of territory: Wari militarily annexed territory and then established formal settlements to control and administer these conquered territories.
4: Function of Wari centers: State-built Wari sites (local first-order sites) were primarily administrative in function. The domination of the local polity, reorganisation of the local settlement and administrative systems to Wari standards (cf. Schreiber 1987b), the establishment of lowerorder Wari sites and the economic exploitation of subject territories were controlled from these centers. . We must look for data that will falsify these or opposing hypotheses. David Browman (1985:62-64) described three patterns of interaction for southern Peru and northern Chile—colony, conquest and trade—and some of the characteristic artefact patterns associated with them in this area of the Andes. Browman noted that where colonies exist, we find sites with a wide range of artefacts from the colonial culture, such as pottery, architecture and burial form. These sites are contemporaneous with sites of the local culture, which continue to have the local traits.
Where conquest occurred, Browman (1985) argued that we should see a distribution pattern of artefacts from the conquering culture which relates to sites associated with the conquest state—such as administrative centres. The presence of foreign artefacts at local sites is often restricted to those sites where the local elite were incorporated into the colonial administrative or patronage 90
system. Even at these sites, the range of foreign goods is limited. is hypothesised, Browman argued that we should see a In a trade situation, a limited range of foreign artefacts is also present, but the artefact inventory differs from that of conquest. Exotic raw materials are much more common, and artefacts more often reflect local rather than foreign styles. Trade items are frequently restricted to a limited range of sites, which is usually indicative of the exploitation of a specific resource.
From our hypotheses, we can predict several patterns of artefacts and associations based on different assumed functions for the Wari sites in Moquegua. Field work is planned to secure data which can be used to test these hypotheses.
If Cerro Baul was an outpost built to conquer Moquegua as a step toward a more distant goal, we would expect military and logistical functions to predominate. There should be little intermixing of local and Wari cultures, due to both the nature of the occupation and to the short time depth involved. If, however, the intent was also to colonise or economically exploit the area, we would expect to see the outpost develop through several stages, first from a military garrison to a more broadly-based settlement with a wider variety of imported foreign artefacts. Next we should see the construction of storage facilities to accompany new or intensified agricultural and extractive practices. More and more varied local artefacts should be found at the Wari sites than in the first scenario.
If, on the other hand, the Wari were more interested in trade, we might still see a restricted military aspect, but we should not expect to find the same items of the local culture present as in the second case. The architectural pattern and artefact inventory would be different. More raw materials should be present and the storage facilties should be designed for handling them. Other architecture should reflect both local and foreign traditions. The initial steps of the first two scenarios—occupation leading to the conquest of another local area and local colonisation and exploitation—are similar, so it might not be possible to distinguish between them if the sequence was interrupted early enough. The substantial scale of the architecture and extensive pottery remains, however, seem to indicate that the Wari succeeded in establishing themselves past the initial stages—so we should be able to differentiate between the two scenarios. The planned fieldwork should clarify this point.
Acknowledgements: Many of the ideas brought together in this paper derive from conversations and discussions I have had with colleagues over the past five years. In particular, I must acknowledge my debt to Michael Moseley and Luis Lumbreras. I do not know if they will agree with my interpretations, but I have presented them in hopes of stimulating further discussions. My field time in Moquegua with the Contisuyu Program was made possible in part by grants from the Pritzker Foundation and by numerous donations from people in Moquegua interested in the project. 91
Endnotes: 1 Patricia Knobloch (personal communication) notes that the Wari pottery of Cerro Baúl and Pikillacta, the two Wari centers located southeastward toward Lake Titicaca, show greater similarities to each other than they do to pottery at other Wari centers in other areas, such as Jincamocco. Both Luis Lumbreras and William Isbell (personal communications) have noted that the Wari pottery at Cerro Baúl is similar to that at Wari itself, and may even have been imported from there. These observations indicate close ties between Wari, Cerro Baúl, and Pikillacta and suggest that the latter two sites were part of a unified Wari southern expansion. (Lumbreras [personal communication] notes that most of the pottery at Pikillacta is later than that at Cerro Baúl. It might be that this difference is due to a continuing occupation at Pikillacta, while Cerro Baúl was abandoned after a short and early occupation.)
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1985 Investigations at the Pikillacta site: a provincial Huari center in the Valley of Cuzco. Paper presented at the Dumbarton Oaks Huari round table, May 1985.
Menzel, D. 1959 The Inca occupation of the South Coast of Peru. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 15(2):125-142. 1964 Style and time in the Middle Horizon. Ñawpa Pacha 2:1-105.
1977 The Archaeology of Ancient Peru and the Work of Max Uhle. The R. H. Lowie Museum, Berkeley.
Moseley, M.E., R.A. Feldman, P.B. Goldstein and L. Watanabe 1985 Colonies and conquest: Tiwanaku and Wari in Moquegua. Revised version of a paper presented at the Dumbarton Oaks Huari round table, May 1985. Moseley, M.E., and C.J. Mackey 1972 Peruvian settlement pattern studies and small site methodology. Amer ican Antiquity 37(1):67-81. Mujica, E., M.A. Rivera, and T.F. Lynch 1983 Proyecto de estudio sobre la complementaridad economica Tiwanaku en los valles occidentales del Centro-Sur Andino. Chungara 11:85-109. Murra, J. 1964 Una apreciación etnológica de la visita. In Visita Hecha a la Provincia de Chucuito por Garci Diez de San Miguel en el Año 1567, edited by W. Espinoza, pp. 419-442. Casa de la Cultura del Perú, Lima.
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1970 Las culturas Wankarani y Chiripa y su relación con Tiwanaku. Academia Nacional de Ciencias de Bolivia, La Paz, publicación 25. 1971 Tiwanaku: espacio, tiempo y cultura. Pumapunku 3:29-44.
1972 Tiwanaku: espacio, tiempo y cultura. Pumapunku 4:7-24. 1980 Panorama de la Arqueología Boliviana. Liberia y Editorial “Juventud”, La Paz. 95
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Ravines, R. 1969 Investigaciones arqueológicas en el Perú: 1965-1966. Revista del Museo Nacional 34:247-254. Lima. Renfrew, C. 1975 Trade as Action at a Distance: Questions of Integration and Communi cation. In Ancient Civilization and Trade, edited by J. A. Sabloff and C. C. Lamberg-Karlovsky, pp. 3-59. University of New Mexico Press, Albuquerque.
Rivera, M.A. 1976 Nuevos aportes sobre el desarrollo altiplanico en los valles bajos del Extremo Norte de Chile, durante el periodo Intermedio Temprano. In Universidad del Norte. Homenaje al Dr. Gustavo Le Paije, pp. 71-82. Santiago Alfabeta.
1980 Arqueología Andina en el panorama de las investigaciones arqueológicas en Chile. In Temas Antropológicos del Norte de Chile, Estudios Ar queológicos (Numero Especial):71-103. Universidad del Norte, Antofa gasta. Rowe, J.H. 1956 Archaeological Explorations in Southern Peru, 1954-1955. American Antiquity 22(2):135-151. 1963 Urban settlements in ancient Peru. Nawpa Pacha 1:1-28. Rowe, J.H., D. Collier and G.R. Willey 1950 Reconnaissance notes on the site of Huari, near Ayacucho, Peru. American Antiquity 12(2):120-137. Sanders, W.T. 1973 The significance of Pikillacta in Andean culture history. Occasional Papers in Anthropology Pennsylvania State University 8:380-428.
Sawyer, A.R. 1963 Tiahuanaco tapestry design. Textile Museum Journal l(2):27-38. Schreiber, K.J. 1978 Planned Architecture of Middle Horizon Peru: Implications for Social and Political Organization. Unpublished Doctoral dissertation, Depart ment of Anthropology, State University of New York at Binghamton.
1985 Jincamocco. Paper presented at the Dumbarton Oaks Huari round table, May 1985. 1987a Conquest and consolidation: a comparison of the Wari and Inka occupa tion of a highland Peruvian valley. American Antiquity 52(2):266-284. 1987b From state to empire: the expansion of Huari outside the Ayacucho Basin. In The Origins and Development of the Andean State, edited by J. Haas, S. Pozorski, and T. Pozorski, pp. 91-96. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge. 96
Spickard, L.E. 1983 The development of Huari administrative architecture. In Investigations of the Andean Past, edited by D. Sandweiss, pp. 136-160. Cornell University Latin American Studies Program.
Stanish, C. 1985 Post-Tiwanaku Regional Economies in the Otora Valley, Southern Peru. Unpublished Doctoral dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of Chicago. 1987 The ancient villages of southern Peru. Field Museum of Natural History Bulletin 58(4):6-10 and 23-25. Tello, J.C. 1939 Origen y desarollo de las Civilizaciones Prehistóricas Andinas. Acts of the 27th International Congress of Americanists 1:589-723. Topic, J.R. 1985 The Wari impact on Huamachuco. Paper presented at the Dumbarton Oaks Huari round table, May 1985. Topic, T. Lange 1985 The Middle Horizon in Northern Peru. Paper presented at the Dumb arton Oaks Huari round table, May 1985. Uhle, M. 1903 Pachacamac. Report of the William Pepper Peruvian Expedition of 1896. University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. Watanabe, L. 1984 Cerro Baúl: un santuario de filiación Wari en Moquegua. Boletín de Lima 32:40-49. Willey, G., C. DiPeso, W. Ritchie, I. Rouse, J. Rowe, and D. Lathrap 1956 An Archaeological Classification of Culture Contact Situations. In Seminars in Archaeology 1955, edited by R. Wauchope, pp. 1-30. Memoirs of the Society for American Archaeology, 11.
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Honcopampa: was it a Huari administrative centre? William H. IsbellJ Honcopampa (figure 1) is located 3500 mASL on the western slopes of Peru’s Cordillera Blanca. It is a shallow, grassy basin that is almost a flat plain slightly more than one km2 in area (figure 2). The eastern edge of Honcopampa is defined by the escarpment of the steep chain of snow-capped peaks, glaciers, lakes and canyons. A spur of bedrock several hundred meters high constitutes the southern margin of the basin, and separates it from the Quebrada Ishinca. To the north and west the basin is contained by elongated glacial moraines. The surface of Honcopampa is alluvial outwash from the Quebrada Aquillpo and in the east nearest the quebrada, the surface is littered with large boulders that probably have been ejected from the canyon during powerful floods. To the west the boulders are less common, but the silty soil is wet and marshy. The western edge of Honcopampa overlooks the expansive valley of the Callejón de Huaylas, above the villages of Pariahuanca and San Miguel de Aco. The northern moraine overlooks the Marcara or Vicos River and its source, the Quebrada Honda. This may have been a major factor in the prehistoric decision to build an important centre at Honcopampa—since the Quebrada Honda is one of the best passes through the Cordillera Blanca, and joins the Callejón de Huaylas and the Callejón de Conchucos.
Along the northern edge of Honcopampa, where the land is not waterlogged, are great walls and monumental, megalithic ruins (figures 8 and 4 )• Smaller ruins surround the plain on almost all the well-drained hillsides. There is a paradox about Honcopampa. Gary Vescelius and Hernán Amát, who spent more than a month mapping and excavating at the site in 1961, declared that it was a Middle Horizon centre—and Huari’s provincial administrative capital in the Callejón de Huaylas (Hernán Amát, personal communication; see also Buse 1965; Lanning 1965). So convincing was this interpretation that, without further fieldwork, it was affirmed by Lumbreras (1974). Honcopampa is hard to get to, but a number of archaeologists have visited the site since 1961. These one-day visitors see monumental, multi-floored chullpas and great terraces that appear totally alien to Huari. Surface pottery is scarce, but what is usually found does not suggest Huari relationships, as it is coarse, brown and occasionally elaborated with plastic decoration. These brief site visits have contributed to another school of thought about Honcopampa—that the site
Í State University of New York at Binghamton 98
Figure 1 : Location of Honcopampa.
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Figure 2:
Air photo of Honcopampa.
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Figure 3: Air photo of the Purushmonte, Ama Puncu and Chucara Ama areas on the north side of Honcopampa.
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Figure 4: Map of the architectural remains on Purushmonte during 1987, and outlines of the highest chullpas in Ama Puncu and Chucara Ama.
had nothing to do with Huari, and may even have been the Early Intermediate Period capital of an autonomous regional polity—perhaps a Recuay chiefdom or state. 102
Today, one group of Andean prehistorians affirms the existence of a cen tralised and expansive Huari state. A second group insists that the Middle Hori zon was a period of independent and comparable polities during which stylistic unification was based on no more than trade and religious diffusion. The Honcopampa paradox is a microcosm of this interpretive difference. Therefore, I initiated research there in 1987. Reconnaissance of Honcopampa and the surrounding hills revealed many archaeological remains and a great deal of architectural variation. Boulders that align with others to form patterns—straight lines, circles, “V” shapes, grids, terraces, and perhaps even plazas and courts—are very common. Some alignments are so rustic that they almost fool the observer into believing that they are natural. Others, such as a monumental gateway, inspire awe and suggest what the original condition of the rustic architecture may have been like. Small rectangular buildings of stone, now very poorly preserved, are scattered across the hills around Honcopampa. These have been the targets of deliberate looting and destruction, and many of their great stones have been reemployed in bridges and houses. Foundations of these buildings were discovered on cultivated slopes near modern homesteads, as well as on steep hilltops. The little buildings, which range in size from a couple of meters square to four or five meters on a side, are called chullpas by the modern Quechua-speaking natives. They often occur in groups of two or three. The stout buildings were roofed with huge stone slabs, and had megalithic lintels over small doorways. Some may have been more than one storey tall.
We investigated one exceptionally well-preserved and large chullpa that was being uncovered during adobe-brick making for a modern house. At first we hoped that it might have escaped looting, but this was not the case. Significantly, this, and probably all the other chullpas, are not constructed of boulders and infill, as appears in some of the better preserved rustic walls. The masonry consists of large, more or less rectangular stones carefully and attractively combined with small, flatish rock slabs or spalls, and strong clay mortar. The building has a small doorway in its west side and a narrow, tunnel-like hall traverses its width. Otherwise, this particular chullpa seems to have been solid stone-work. The hallway contained human bones—a skull and some long-bones in. considerable disorder—as well as ceramic fragments. Among these latter were Polished Blackware and somewhat less shiny Redware fragments of bottles with double-spout-and-bridge handles, and one fragment with fugitive black paint on a reddish background that may represent a resist technique. Honcopampa’s most impressive architectural remains are located in three concentrations on the northern side of the marshy depression (figures S, 4 )• Each concentration has its own place-name. Ama Puncu is a long, low hill with the remains of nine or more chullpas. Most of the Ama Puncu chullpas are much bigger than the dispersed ones on the surrounding hills. Many are two storeys tall. Seven or more of the chullpas are arranged around three sides of a courtyard. They enclose a “U-shaped” area that is open to the north. In the southwest corner of the “U” is Honcopampa’s largest chullpa, which measures 12
103
by 16 meters. At ground level this building has three doorways on the north side that look into the “U-shaped” court, and a single doorway on each of the other three sides. The interior of the building is divided into 20 chambers arranged in interconnecting groups of three or four. The second floor of the chullpa has a single entrance to the north and contains six interconnected chambers. An old report claims that a third storey was once visible on the top of this chullpa. Archaeologists Gary Vescelius and Hernán Amát excavated in the chambers of this chullpa in 1961. According to Amát, inside the chambers they found human bones as well as some pottery in the Viñaque style—a style that originated at the Ayacucho Valley site of Huari and which has been dated to Middle Horizon 2. Five other chullpas in the “U” also have two storeys, multiple doorways and numerous internal chambers. Many, but not all, of the chambers are tall enough to stand up in comfortably, and large enough for several adults to lie on the floors. In fact, they have been used as campsites by travellers and trekkers since they provide excellent shelter from the cold winds and rains common at this high altitude. Unfortunately, many of Ama Puncu’s chullpas are in such poor repair that they cannot be mapped precisely without archaeological clearing. Two more chullpas in extremely bad condition were identified less than 100 meters west of the “U-shaped” group, but still on the Ama Puncu hill. There are traces of other stone-walled constructions on Ama Puncu, suggesting that a greater diversity of architecture remains to be identified—but on the basis of surface indications habitation refuse is scarce.
Chucara Ama is located about one kilometer east of Ama Puncu. A large chullpa has been constructed on a larger rectangular platform. Remains of several smaller chullpas are also in evidence, as well as many walls that probably belonged to terraced plazas. An outstanding and unique feature at Chucara Ama is a red rock that looks like a bedrock outcropping that has well-built stone walls enclosing it. As in the case of Ama Puncu, surface refuse is scarce at Chucara Ama. The construction of the chullpas at Ama Puncu and Chucara Ama is impressive and employs huge stones—especially for the roofs, door jambs and lintels. The masonry of the walls consists of large stone blocks surrounded by small, flat spalls. While the hillside chullpa of block and spall masonry was virtually solid, except for a narrow, tunnel-like hallway, some other chullpas contain sizable chambers. At least some chullpas, both smaller hillside ones and the larger buildings at Ama Puncu and Chucara Ama, contained human remains and fine pottery, but their functions are obscure. In fact, it may be that the chullpas represent a single building class, or perhaps several building classes, now lumped together because poor preservation gives them similar appearances.
The Purushmonte hill is the third and largest area of architectural remains at Honcopampa. Dense vegetation has given one-day visitors the impression that the architecture is limited to large terraces—but vegetation clearing reveals 104
rectangular enclosures with great doorways. I decided to devote most of the 1987 field season to a three ha area of the Purushmonte hill, where the rectangular enclosures are particularly well preserved (figure 5). My objectives were to define building forms, determine their general nature and establish their date. We began by clearing away the dense vegetation. It soon became apparent that periodic cultivation had destroyed many walls to the bottom of the plough-zone, but below—at perhaps 30 cm under the surface—many walls were still intact. Shallow trenches were employed to reveal nearly complete building plans without disturbing the occupation strata which are going to be so important for more detailed, functional and activity-oriented studies. Most of the architecture discovered in the Purushmonte study area-—besides a small chullpa—falls into two general building forms. These are the “D-shaped” building complex and the patio-group. Two examples of “D-shaped” buildings were found in the southern part of the Purushmonte study area (figures 5 and 6, AC-13, 14). The larger “D-shaped” building, AC-13, has a doorway in the flattened side, which faces south, and another feature that may be a door in the northwestern part of the wall. The smaller “D-shaped” structure, AC-14, has several large niches in the interior of its curved wall. Since both of the “Dshaped” buildings have rooms abutted onto their exteriors, they appear to have been centres for more elaborate architectural complexes. One room on the east side of AC-14 has a row of stones projecting from the inner face of the wall, which may have been supports for a second floor. However, these stones are only a few centimeters above the modern ground surface.
No excavations were conducted in “D-shaped” buildings. An old trench in AC-13, probably excavated in 1961 by Amat and Vescelius, was cleaned and inspected. Its walls revealed few occupation traces, and it seems likely that structure AC-13 was either cleaned regularly, or that it was not residential. “D-shaped” buildings were detected only in the lower part of Purushmonte, suggesting that they may have been spatially separated from other buildings for some reason.
The patio-group building form at Honcopampa is the most frequent in our 3 ha sample area, and all the examples are located higher on the hill than the “D-shaped” buildings. This form consists of four elongated halls around a rectangular patio creating an enclosed compound. The halls axe divided into rooms that can only be entered from the patio. For this reason, the building form has been called a patio-group. The “idealised” Honcopampa patio-group (figure 7) is oriented more or less to the cardinal directions, and has a main entrance in the centre of the east side of the compound. This is a corridor with megalithic door jambs and great stone lintels. It provides access to the central patio. On all four sides of the patio are long halls, each of which is divided into three rooms. Each room has a doorway—with large stone jambs and lintels—connecting it with the patio, but the rooms are not directly interconnected with one another. There is no evidence that any of the rooms were more than one storey high. The hall bordering one 105
Figure 5:
Map of the Purushmonte central sector showing architectural
complexes, with their number designations.
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Figure 6: “D” shaped buildings in the Purushmonte central sector. side of the patio, usually the west side, is wider than the rest of the halls—but it too is usually divided into three rooms.
Patio-group masonry is of the block-and-spall type, like that of the chullpas and “D-shaped” buildings. Unlike chullpas and “D-shaped” buildings, however, there is significant variation in the quality of masonry in different walls of the patio-groups. Walls facing the inner patio are much finer than the outer perimeter wall. The wide, west hall is distinguished by having the finest masonry anywhere in a building—it also has the largest lintels. In fact, the largest lintel in each pafio group is located over the central doorway into the wide hall. These lintels, often more than three meters, and sometimes more than four meters in length, are impressive. Occasionally, patio-groups have a secondary entrance from the outside, in the form of a small corridor leading into the patio from one side of the rectangular compound. More rarely, there is a doorway through the outer wall directly into one of the hall rooms. Patio groups also appear to have had broad benches about 20 to 30 cm high encircling the entire edge of the central patio. Large grinding stones are typically found in the open patios. Compounds AC-2, AC-3, AC-4, AC-5, AC-6, AC-9, and AC-11 appear to be good examples of the standard patio-group, even though few of them meet all of the “ideal” criteria described above (figures 8-11 ). Compound AC1 is also a patio-group, but lacks the main entrance and does not have a wider
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Figure 7: .patio group AC-5 characterises Honcopampa patio groups.
hall. Another feature that distinguishes AC-1 is a row of projecting stones, or corbels, preserved in two of the perimeter hall rooms. Several of these features make AC-1 more like patio-groups from Huari—a point of great significance. Other buildings at Purushmonte also appear to have been constructed with the patio-group model in mind. In general, they are less well preserved, and were less intensively investigated than the compounds described above. Future research will clarify the formal aspects of these buildings, and will reveal whether they belong to a subclass of patio-group—or perhaps of another building type altogether. Four small stratigraphic test pits were excavated into rooms of patio-groups AC-1, AC-2, AC-5 and AC-9. In three cases, AC-2, AC-5 and AC-9, residential debris was abundant. Only the excavation in AC-1 yielded almost sterile soil. In view of these results, as well as the abundance of occupation refuse—including the large grinding stones—around most of the patio-groups on the Purushmonte hill, I concluded that most of Honcopampa’s patio-groups served residential purposes. Excavations in AC-2 and AC-5 revealed luxury goods, including fine pottery (some in Huari style), metal, obsidian tools and Spondylus shell. 108
Figure 8: Patio groups AC-1 and AC-2 are bounded on the east by AC-18. Patio group AC-1 is more like patio groups at Huari than any other of the complexes at Honcopampa.
Imported and locally manufactured Huari style pottery—although rare— were both found in the Purushmonte section. The specimens appear to belong to the Middle Horizon 2 Vinaque style, but one badly eroded lyre-shaped rim fragment found on the surface may belong to the Chakipampa style of Middle Horizon 1. This early specimen is one of the few ceramic pieces that appears to have been imported from Huari.
Polished Blackware pottery came from the same strata as Huari style sherds in the AC-5 excavation. An especially common Polished Blackware form is a wide-mouthed, straight-sided cup or beaker with a raised and thickened band 1 to 2 cm. below the rim. Double-spout-and-bridge bottles with conical, almost pointed, spouts and arching strap-handles occur as well. Wendell Bennett described this type from his excavations at Wilkawain (Bennett 1944: figure 6c). Another ceramic type described by Bennett from Wilkawain that appears to be associated with Huari pottery at Purushmonte is Redware (Bennett 1944: figure 7). Bowls and double-spout-and-bridge bottles occur in this ware. 109
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Figure 11: Patio group AC-10 is similar to others, but AC-1 and AC-12 are significantly unlike Huari examples known from elsewhere.
The Recuay style may be represented at Purushmonte, but is even more scarce than Huari pottery. One sherd from a stratum also containing Polished Blackware and Redware has faint traces of fugitive black on a red background that may represent a resist technique common in the Recuay style. Only one white paste sherd was discovered. It has a yellowish exterior surface decorated with fine black and red painted lines reminiscent of some Recuay style sherds from Pashash that are described by Grieder (1978). It comes from a deep stratum in Excavation 1 in AC-5. Pottery with white-on-red decoration was found in the lowest stratum of Excavation 1 in AC-5 (figure 7). Bowls with slightly curved, slightly flaring walls are especially common. This stratum underlies the foundation of patiogroup AC-5, suggesting an earlier occupation, but a charcoal sample produced a Middle Horizon radiocarbon date—so the cultural and temporal affiliation of the pottery and its stratum need to be confirmed by future investigations.
Wall trenches from several areas, but especially AC-3, AC-4 and AC-18, yielded coarse, monochrome pottery decorated with stamped circles, incised fillets and, more rarely, with impressed designs. Vessel shapes include collared jars and wide, flaring bowls or dishes. The ceramics seem to resemble what Vescelius and Amát (Buse 1965:330) described as “Arcaísmos decadentes” and placed after Recuay in their excavated sequence from Huaricoto. Personnel from the Museo Arqueológico de Ancash refer to the style as Akillpo, and consider it “late”. Some of the Purushmonte architectural complexes were significantly 111
remodelled, almost certainly after the Huari phase at the site. I believe that this coarser pottery belongs to that period, and that it represents a reoccupation of Honcopampa in the late Middle Horizon or during Late Intermediate Period times. This too must be confirmed by future investigations. It seems likely that the Polished Blackware and the Redware represent Callejón de Huaylas ceramic styles of the Middle Horizon that are associated with Huari ceramic styles—both imported and locally manufactured. It also seems likely that these are the ceramic styles associated with the monumental buildings at Honcopampa. Recuay pottery and White-on-red ceramics may indicate an earlier occupation at Honcopampa, although the chronology of Recuay and White-on-red is still poorly understood. The Akillpo style at Honcopampa seems to represent a late cultural group—not conforming with Huari architectural forms—after Middle Horizon 2.
Charcoal samples were collected from the four excavations in order to date the construction and occupation of the patio-groups, and to determine whether they belong to the Middle Horizon. Sample 1 (1240±90 [A.D. 710±90]) came from Excavation 1 in AC-5, from a stratum that appears to constitute the floor of the room in the southwest corner. Huari style sherds came from strata immediately above, and Polished Blackware pottery was associated with the sample. I suspect that the sample dates a period late in the occupation of AC-5—and it is clearly a Middle Horizon 2 date. Sample 2 (1330Ü00 [A.D. 620±100]) also came from Excavation 1, from a stratum underlying the foundation of the building which also contained Whiteon-red pottery. It was anticipated that this stratum represented an earlier occupation at Honcopampa, but the date is clearly Middle Horizon Epoch 1. Sample 3 came from Excavation 2, in the west lateral room of AC-8 (figure 10). The sample—1380±70 (A.D. 570±70)—comes from a hearth located in a lower floor that probably represents an occupation shortly after the construction of the building. The date is terminal Early Intermediate Period or Middle Horizon Epoch 1.
The fourth sample recovered, from Excavation 3 in AC-1, was reported as being too small for a reliable date by Beta Analytic. The fifth sample came from Excavation 4 in AC-2. The charcoal was associated with a broken floor in the western lateral room. I suspect that the charcoal came from a cache pit or offering under the floor that was looted at the time structure AC-2 was abandoned. If I am correct, the charcoal dates relatively early in the occupation of this patio-group, not to the moment of the breaking of the floor. The date— 1280±70 (A.D. 670±70)—is late Middle Horizon Epoch 1 or early Epoch 2. Research at Honcopampa is limited to one season, which I view as strictly preliminary. However, the preliminary season does seem to have resolved the paradox. Radiocarbon dates confirm the construction of Honcopampa’s patiogroups relatively early in the Middle Horizon—probably Middle Horizon 1—with occupation continuing through Middle Horizon 2. Huari pottery—even though it is scarce—confirms contact with Ayacucho and a Huari influenced sphere. 112
Similar masonry in patio-groups, “D-shaped” buildings and chullpas suggest that these building forms belong to the same architectural period, an interpretation that is supported by the recovery of Polished Blackware and Redware pottery from the single isolated chullpa that was investigated. Three building forms were identified at Honcopampa—chullpas, “D-shaped” buildings and patio-groups. On the basis of data available to me at this time, I cannot confirm any of these building forms elsewhere in the Callejón de Huaylas, or at neighbouring Pashash (Greider 1978), in the preceeding Early Intermediate Period. All three forms appear to be new in the Middle Horizon, signaling profound culture change.
Patio-groups and “D-shaped” buildings were constructed at Huari during the Middle Horizon. Furthermore, at Huari, the patio-group has been shown to be associated with administrative activities. There can be little doubt that the adoption of an architectural form associated with government at Huari, the presence of another Huari building form, and Huari style pottery in the context of profound culture change in the Callejón de Huaylas resolves the paradox about Honcopampa. Honcopampa appears to have been a Huari administrative centre. But identifying Honcopampa as a Huari administrative centre resolves only a little of what we want to know about this site and the Middle Horizon. It is clear that Honcopampa’s patio-groups lack the modular and and cellular organisation which characterise other Huari administrative centres. I consider this a major breakthrough in Middle Horizon Huari studies in that it provides us with architectural variation which may reveal the temporal development of Huari administration. The fact that what appears to be early Huari administrative architecture occurs at Honcopampa, in northern Peru, may indicate that John and Theresa Topic (Topic n.d.; Topic and Topic 1983, 1987) were correct in identifying local, Huamachuco features in buildings of that valley that were ascribed to Huari and the Middle Horizon. It may also confirm my argument that Huari developed its state government as a result of its expansionism, and that foreign contacts—especially with northern Peru—fostered ideological and organisational innovations that were required for Huari’s successful control of foreign provinces during Middle Horizon 1 and 2.
The identification of a Huari administrative centre is only a tiny part of what is going to be learned at Honcopampa. It is clear that Honcopampa patio-groups lack much of the sophisticated cellular organisation that characterises other Huari provincial capitals. It is my belief that further research at Honcopampa is going to show that Huari’s state administration developed concurrently with expansion into northern Peru, and that the cultures of the north played very important rôles in stimulating new organisational ideas by Huari rulers.
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Bibliography: Bennett, W.C. 1944 The north highlands of Peru. Excavations in the Callejón de Huaylas and at Chavin de Huantar. Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of Natural History 39(1).
Buse, H. 1965 Introducción al Perú. Imprenta del Colegio Militar Leoncio Prado, Lima. Grieder, T. 1978 The Art and Architecture of Pashash. University of Texas Press, Austin. Lanning, E.P. 1965 Current research (Highland South America). American Antiquity 31:140. Lumbreras, L.G. 1974 The Peoples and Cultures of Ancient Peru, translated by B. Meggers. Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington, D.C. Topic, J.R. n.d. The Wari impact on Huamachuco. Paper presented at the Dumbarton Oaks Wari Round Table. May, 1985. Topic, Theresa Lange and J.R. Topic 1983 Huamachuco Archaeological Project: Preliminary Report of the Third Field Season, June-August, 1983. Trent University Occasional Papers in Anthropology 1. Peterborough, Ontario. 1987 Huamachuco Archaeological Project: Preliminary Report of the 1986 Field Season. Trent University Occasional Papers in Anthropology 4. Peterborough, Ontario.
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Spatial patterning and the investigation of political control: the case from the Moche/Chimu area R. Michael Czwarno{
Introduction: Social changes are, in many respects, the stuff of archaeology. This paper deals with what the spatial patterning of archaeological buildings may tell us about past social order. The type of patterning dealt with here is specifically that preserved articulation between rooms in elite buildings. I will argue below that patterning within the elite structures left by traditional past societies represents a form of cognitive map concerning the way each society felt the ritual universe should have been ordered. Part of my argument centres on the fact that elite architecture was not incidental to the social structures of the communities that built such edifices, but was central to the ritual-religious structure of those traditional societies. As a preamble to my argument, I shall present a brief overview of the mechanics of social structure which seem to influence spatial patterning.
Social systems develop in a complex feedback relationship between the stresses which induce fissioning and the need to control and/or predict those stresses (see Binford 1972; Clarke 1968; Coombs 1980; Hockett and Ascher 1964; Rappaport 1968, 1971, 1973, 1979; Service 1975, 1978; Wright 1977, 1986). Social systems maintain group cohesion only as long as the members of the group perceive those systems as explaining and controlling the forces which tend to pull the society apart (see Drennan 1976; Rappaport 1971, 1973). In other words, social systems provide group identity and guarantee the continuance of the group in. the future. They also provide individual identity by placing each member of the society into a scheme of relationships. It is this function of providing continuity with both the past and the future which tends to make social systems conservative because it justifies the position of the elite (based on the past) and promises continued privilege. In essence, this is what Hockett and Ascher call Romer’s Law (Hockett and Ascher 1964:134; see also Romer 1954). Since the elite essentially control the development of social systems, barring revolution, the preservation of their future status requires that the elite maintain the status quo of the society as a whole. Radical structural changes may influence the future status or rights of status of those privileged members and are therefore selected against, where possible. In addition social
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The University of Cambridge
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systems tend to follow Zipf’s principle (Zipf 1949) with regard to change— structural changes tend to occur only when all existing precedents fail to answer the need adequately (von Bertalanffy 1968; Flannery 1972; Rappaport 1978a, 1978b; see also Wright 1978). Obviously the degree of conservatism in any particular social structure will reflect the perceived cohesive strength of that structure. Thus, social systems or conventions which are only peripheral to the continued existence of the society will tend to be much more changeable than those which are perceived as preserving the group’s identity and cohesion. The more strongly “sanctified” a system is in terms of its ability to bind the group together, the more resistant it will be to change, so that change will tend to occur only at those times of crisis when the ideal state the system is meant to preserve becomes significantly removed from observed reality and the collapse of the system seems imminent (Rappaport 1973, 1978a, 1979; Smith 1978).
Especially in traditional societies, religion and ritual are highly integrative and cohesive systems; thus in a sociological sense, ritual/religion (the two may be inseparable) are, and were, aspects of the “sacralization of identity” (Mois 1976:1, 5). Religion/ritual provides individual and group identity within a society by its practice, and strengthens group bonding by its mutual practice (Mois 1976; Rappaport 1968, 1971, 1973). The cohesive strength of ritual, and the use of ritual to enhance group bonding is well demonstrated in the Inca Empire, for example. Much of what follows is predicated on the conservative nature of highly cohesive structures. The analysis which follows uses spatial patterns to determine whether the evidence suggests a continued indigenous tradition, or a discontinuity in tradition such as might be expected following a radical change in social structure. I use spatial patterning as synonymous with architectural floorplans. Unless I specifically state otherwise, then, a spatial pattern refers to the relations between boundary walls and the spaces they enclose. The architectural structures this term includes here are simple rooms (figure la), complex rooms (figure lb) or complex structures, also referred to as complexes (figure lc). I do not use the term spatial patterning to refer to the arrangements of sites, although it may refer to the arrangements within a sub-section of a site. It should also be noted that I do not discuss construction or decoration methods. Of sole interest to me here is the manner in which the space enclosed within a building or compound is broken up into bounded areas. One aspect of spatial patterning which is not considered here through lack of data, but which may also be of considerable use in Peruvian archaeology is the placement and articulation of wall niches relative to open spaces and doorways. Niches may prove particularly meaningful in a much more detailed analysis of the permeability and integration of elite buildings (see Hillier et al. 1976; Hillier and Hanson 1984). The analysis used here is restricted to the simple case of boundary/open space articulation by the available data (see also Czwarno 1988). Several other provisos should be kept in mind here as well. In all cases, except where otherwise stated, it should be assumed that I am discussing traditional
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a
Figure 1: The various types of architectural features discussed here include (a) simple rooms, (6) complex rooms and (c) complex structures.
societies: that is, those societies which do not internally differentiate status into a religious elite, an administrative elite and an economic elite. In other words my assumptions about the meaning and emic value of space are restricted to societies where a member of the elite is equally a religious/ritual, administrative and economic “practitioner”, at least in the ideal case, though some members of the elite may have tended to control one aspect of the social superstructure more than others in practice. An example of the sort of social system and hierarchy I am specifically addressing here is the Inca Empire, which appears to be a form which can be validly retrodicted into previous periods in Peruvian prehistory. Furthermore, it should be understood that I am restricting my argument primarily to those social systems or sites where there is a clear difference between the architecture used by the elite and that used by commoners. In all probability weakly differentiated social structures, or sites with only a low level elite present, will not exhibit sufficient spatial complexity to provide useful data for this type
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of analysis. Differentiable patterns are vital to this method, and low status architecture, or buildings which are insufficiently differentiable from low status buildings in terms of pattern complexity, prove ambiguous. Several assumptions are also inherent in my argument, though it appears that some of them may be strong enough to be considered as lawlike generalisations. These assumptions are:
1: spatial patterning within elite places reflected the ideal ritual spatial geography of the society (the cosmography); 2: variation within elite spatial patterns was controlled according to a “grammar” based on cosmography, therefore random variation is not ex pected, although patterns may have been deformed or truncated through the action of topographic constraints or the presence of previously con structed buildings or building segments. 3: Change within elite spatial patterns would have followed an evolutionarylike trajectory through time as existing elements of the social structure were modified or transformed as long as (and only as long as) the ritual/religious or sacralised system which initially “sanctified” the original pattern system continued as the primary means of reinforcing social cohesion through its ritual.
Besides the obvious correlation between the degree of spatial complexity at an archaeological site and the amount of social complexity developed by its inhabitants, there also appears to have been a relationship between the level of uniqueness in architectural floor plans proportional to that social complexity (figures 2 and 3). The cultural or societal specificity of spatial patterns may arise as a function of the evolution of autonomous societies and social structures, since each social system will tend to develop its own response structure along slightly different patterns from its neighbours, and these differences will become increasingly different with time.
Figure 2: Low spatial complexity appears to be associated with poorly stratified societies or sites, as demonstrated by Willey’s site V-124 (Willey
1953: figure 75).
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Figure 3:
High spatial complexity and increasingly culturally specific
spatial pattens appear to correlate with social complexity. (Huanuco Pampa Zone IIB after Morris and Thompson 1985:83).
In other words, patterns arise as a function of the social context of a society and the way that society orders experience and observation through the application of rules common to all its members (see Hodder 1978, 1982 for example). By analogy, social systems can be considered as having a dendrographic developmental pattern. At each decision node a number of possible options may exist, some of which will be perceived as being valid. Of these emically valid options, one will be chosen, the choice of which governs future options along that general branch (see figure 4 )• Thus, even societies starting with the same common structure can be expected to develop differences in small, discrete, cumulative changes or modifications. Although the development of social systems is not the same as biological evolution, there are some similarities between the development of biological speciation and the development of social systems in an area. Therefore, given sufficient social complexity within a group, its spatial patterning will most probably have developed in a cumulatively different grammar from those found in its neighbours. It is these differences in the patterns that I consider here. This paper, then, examines the spatial patterning of floorplans from several Middle Horizon sites (map 1) to investigate this relationship in past traditional societies and to suggest a manner whereby floorplans may prove useful in the investigation of ancient political boundaries.
It is obvious in even the most cursory examination of ancient architectural floorplans that a relationship existed between the degree of social complexity and the amount of spatial complexity in elite buildings. Although there were undoubtedly a number of reasons why such a relation arose it may be that the general basis for that relation revolved around the use of elite architecture as a means of public and private display, as a focus for the practice of some ritual and/or as reaffirmation of status by the builders and primary users of those buildings. Where elite buildings included space specifically set aside for ritual practices, I suggest that the whole architectural compound containing that space may have taken on a “sacralised” aspect in association with that 119
Figure 4: A dendritic decision tree illustrating how choices develop.
ritual. I suggest that the conservatism associated with ritual and religion may have limited the range of spatial variability in those buildings across time in order to keep the visible spatial patterning in conformity with the principles of the indigenous ritual cosmography. Therefore, although elite buildings may have served in two general capacities—as symbols of ritual and as symbols of status— the conservatism of ritual structures can be assumed to have been predominant because the spatial patterns derived from the ritual space associations were sanctified by custom and use. This relationship between elite architectural floorplans and social structure may have been especially strong in those social systems (such as can be argued for Peru) where no structural distinction existed between ritual, administrative and economic “practitioners”, and where elite places also incorporated some aspects of ritual practice. In those instances, the patterning of elite architecture may have been consciously seen as patterning ritual cosmography. The standardisation visible in such disparate examples as Chan Chan and villas in various parts of the Roman empire suggests that emically recognised “correct” methods of bounding and articulating elite architecture may have existed in a number of ancient societies, regardless of whether the buildings had ritual functions, as long as they served as adjuncts or demonstrators of status. Ritual space, then, can be assumed to have been laid out according to some ideal ritual topographic or cosmographic grammar. This grammar consisted of rules governing the relations between spaces, directions and boundaries which left a regularly recurring pattern of floorplans. While recovery of the original grammar is possible only in those instances where documents written at the time the rules were in use, or where the unbroken tradition which gave rise to the grammar continues into the ethnographic present, it is possible to construct a symbolic descriptive grammar which allows identification of the underlying structure of the patterns left in the archaeological record. While not all the elite places associated with a particular culture were necessarily laid out according to the same overall floorplan pattern, the pattern structures should have some point of union derived from the common cosmography. Thus, while moi eties, for example, may use different overall patterns, the basic structures of the patterns may be expected to be the same where both moieties derive from the same social system. In other words, moieties derived by the union to two disparate
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cultural traditions may demonstrate the differences between those traditions, while moieties derived by the segregation of two parts of a single tradition may look different in terms of an overall pattern, but should follow the same basic rules of association within the various patterns.
Justification for the first two points has been presented in the above discussion. The reasoning used for point three stems from the above discussion as well, and is based on the fact that systems central to the cohesion of society tend not to change radically without external pressure. This outside pressure must be coercive, and results either in the replacement of the original ritual religious system with a new system, or the overt adoption of new forms of ritual and religion in order to preserve the old forms in a covert subversion of the new order (for example, see Arriaga 1968[1621]). The appearance of new forms of spatial patterning in the archaeological record of a site, then, suggests that a new tradition of ritual-religion was imposed on the people of the site. It can be assumed that the imposition of the new tradition included the need, by the dominant society, to bind the subject society into the new order by imposing its own system of creating social cohesion. Quite a different pattern may obtain where two societies which considered themselves to have been mutually autonomous (that is, with neither society assuming the other society to have been politically dominant over its ally’s sphere) created a cohesive ritual structure to ally themselves to each other. In that case, I suggest that the overall spatial patterning within the two societies would have remained unchanged, but that enclaves of spatial patterning derived from each society would possibly have been built in the other society’s sphere. To recapitulate, I suggest that conquest resulted in the imposition of new patterns within the conquered society at the expense of that society’s concepts of cosmography, while affiliation may have resulted in the continuation of local spatial patterns with the addition of one or more examples of foreign spatial patterning co-occurring.
It would appear, therefore, that the analysis of spatial patterning should be useful in examining whether a past society developed increasing social complexity autonomously, or through the intervention of an external society, and in addressing questions of empire formation. This subsumes that changes in ritual space indicate that a change in one of the most cohesive systems in traditional society—given the integrative strength of ritual and religion, and given that elite places served in part as loci of at least one significant aspect of ritual and religion. Therefore, any substantive change within the spatial patterning of elite places which does not reflect the development of a purely local tradition, as determined through an analysis of the symbolic grammar, suggests the adoption of a new form of ritual topography, and therefore of a new system of ritual and religion. In short, I suggest that such a change reflects what can be termed as conquest. This assumes, obviously, that conquest includes the attempt by the conquering group to bind the dominated society into a new integrated social system by something more than the sheer force of arms. An analysis of spatial patterning using a symbolic grammar assumes the past presence of discernible status definition at the affected archa?ological sites through the presence of clearly definable elite places, and that those elite places
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were of sufficient complexity to provide unique local patterns. The symbolic grammar used here is derived from Hillier and Hanson (1984). In some respects this symbolic grammar is similar to the analysis of ceramic stylistics. It is probable that an analysis of spatial patterning will be somewhat more sensitive than ceramic analyses, however, in that spatial patterning is much less likely to have been socially mobile. There also appear to have been fewer chances of random variation creeping into spatial patterns than into the distributive and stylistic patterning of ceramics (for example, see Hardin 1984; Papousek 1984; Rice 1984 for discussions of difficulties in isolating ceramic variability), since spatial patterns may have been more controlled. I have chosen to focus on the cindadelas at Chan Chan in this paper to determine whether the data are more indicative of a Wari integrative presence on the North Coast during the Middle Horizon, or whether the continuation of a local tradition is suggested. The North Coast will be compared with the spatial patterns of the Moraduchayoq area of Wari because the patterns found at Moraduchayoq also occur in an administrative setting at a number of other sites in or adjacent to the Ayacucho Basin, at Jincamoqo and Jargampata, for example (Brewster-Wray 1983; Schreiber 1978; Spickard 1983). It is likely that the Moraduchayoq section of Wari was not the most elite area of the site. However, it demonstrates sufficient spatial complexity that the underlying rules of the Wari spatial grammar are present, based on the above-mentioned spatial similarities. If, as I suspect, the Moraduchayoq pattern represents the Wari “administrative” pattern, it should occur in some form in all areas which contained a Wari administrative unit, based on the rationale provided in the introduction to this paper. I specifically have not used the Cheqo Wasi section of Wari because the presence of a large number of “shaft tombs” suggests something unusual may have been going on in that part of the site (see Benavides 1984).
Definition of spatial patterns: A number of spatial attributes have been suggested as being Wari derived. As summarised by Spickard (1983:139ff), these are:
’
- the use of rectangular enclosures with a central courtyard and serial multi-storied corridors (see Brewster-Wray 1983; Isbell 1977, 1985; Isbell and Schreiber 1978; Schreiber 1978) with underlying canal systems (see Schreiber 1978; Spickard 1983); - division of sites into planned grid systems through the use of main avenues, streets and wall systems which control access between room complexes (Isbell 1977; Schreiber 1978, for example);
- the orientation of buildings to the cardinal directions (Spickard 1983); - walls of modal thickness decreasing in thickness towards the interior (see Schreiber, for example), and;
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- painted and plastered walls with modal niches, benches along one or more walls, and gypsum floors (see Brewster-Wray 1983; Isbell 1977; Schreiber 1978 for example).
Several of these features are not exclusively Wari, however. Inwardly oriented (generally) rectilinear compounds occur from the earliest periods of Peruvian prehistory, and plastered and occasionally painted walls occur at least from the Early Horizon (see Ravines 1985 for example). Niches also occur in some of the earliest buildings, as do benches, and orientation to the cardinal directions appears to form part of the spatial criteria of ritual or ceremonial architecture at least from the Early Horizon in some areas (see Lumbreras 1981; Terada 1985). Furthermore, it is possible that the use of avenues and streets to subdivide a site may be generally required when a site reaches a critical size, in order to allow access within the site, though the regular grid system may have been derived from a single site or group. The most secure basic criterion for the determination of a Wari spatial presence appears to be what I have called the Wari estate syntax elsewhere (Czwarno 1988). While the estate syntax was not common to all Wari spatial patterns, it does seem to form the basis for what have been termed “administrative” complexes (see Brewster-Wray 1983; Schreiber 1978). Estate syntax architecture occurs in the Moraduchayoq section of Wari, at Jincamoqo and incompletely at Jargampata. This pattern (see figure 5) is quite distinctive, and follows the general association rules
(Xo(Xo < Xn >))m, where n represents the four serial corridors in a completed structure, and m represents the fact that this basic structure may be replicated a number of times (see the Appendix for a discussion of how this grammar works).
Figure 5: The Moraduchayoq estate syntax pattern (after Brewster-Wray 1983:123 figure 1).
Where complete Wari spatial patterns were adopted by some other society, this estate syntax should be visible in the archaeological record, since it seems to have had some importance. On the other hand, the adoption of Wari patterns by some mechanism other than the direct intervention of Wari, and thus without a clear understanding of the Wari rules of spatial association, may have given rise to local variability. This variability would have arisen from a lack of understanding in (an illiteracy of) Wari spatial rules, with a concomitant period of experimentation as the Wari spatial forms were adapted to fit locally derived rules of spatial patterning (see Friedrich 1970 for a discussion of the
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effects of pattern “illiteracy” on variability in ceramic motifs). In relation to the discussion of pattern stability in section 1.1, above, the impact of such experimentation should be visible—in the long term—in decreasing variability in introduced patterns, as they became part of the local repertoire. That is, until patterns became fully adopted into the local cosmography and in the absence of pressure from the deriving group, succeeding examples of the “foreign” pattern would have been more variable than locally derived patterns simply because they were not part of the ritual cosmography, and therefore were not as stringently controlled by that cosmography. With each succeeding example, however, it can be expected that the local group would attempt to fit the new pattern into the local cosmography by adapting its own rules. Thus, with time, the “foreign” patterns would develop local idioms.
The Moche/Chimu area provides a suitable test case to determine whether spatial patterning suggests that the changes which occurred during Moche phase V were—as Larco Hoyle (1966) and Lumbreras (1974), for example, indicate— the result of the replacement of a Moche by a Wari elite. Significant changes do appear to have occurred during Moche V times. Moche (the site) had been abandoned during Moche IV, and the focus of the Moche area appears to have shifted to Pampa Grande and Galindo (Anders 1981; Bawden 1977, 1983; and others), and the scale of monumental architecture (at least at Galindo) appears to have decreased (Bawden 1977, 1983).
These changes may indeed have been linked to political pressure from some external source, though as Prümers (this volume) demonstrates, the stylisitc changes that entered Moche iconography during phase V—and which continue through the Middle Horizon—seem to indicate the adoption into a continuous local tradition of “foreign” design elements which were interpreted within the local idiom. If the local idiom of spatial patterns also continued to develop through the Middle Horizon, without the addition of Wari-derived aspects, then I suggest the data indicate that the Moche “rules” of social definition probably remained in place, and that the North Coast remained independent of Wari. That is, if the Moche elite were replaced by a Wari elite during the Middle Horizon, the Chan Chan cindadelas should still have demonstrated some of the patterning derived from the Ayacucho area at the end of Wari influence in the area. I have also included an analysis of two later structures, the Middle Chimu cindadela Gran Chimu and the Late Chimu cindadela Tschudi, to examine whether any changes in spatial patterning occurred to match the reversion to Mochica ancestral ceramic forms with the end of Wari influence in the area. The continuation of spatial forms from the Early Intermediate Period through to the end of the Late Intermediate Period would be indicative, in my view, of much less Wari influence on the North coast than has been suggested previously. Cindadela Uhle:
This is one of the earliest cindadelas at Chan Chan (dating to ca. A.D. 9001000, see Kolata 1983:355). I have chosen a representative well preserved/recon structed floor plan of a sub-enclosure within the cindadela for examination
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(figure 6). I will be looking specifically at the relations between bounded areas, rather than the existence of boundaries and enclosures, since the basic boundary enclosure architectural form pre-dates the Middle Horizon substantially on the North coast. A representative sub-structure has been chosen from each of the cindadelas considered here. In all cases, the patterns found in the analysed section are replicated in other sub-enclosures. The pattern representation progresses from left to right and from bottom to top.
Figure 6: Section of Cindadela Uhle, after Moseley and Mackey 1974: plan 14.
(X o (X o X) o [(X o (X o y”) o X o X o (XX) o X o (X o o )o X) o y” y”)(X o (X o o «XXXXX») (X (X o )(X o ) X) (X (o o X) [y” o [X] (X o X (X o y” X o ) X o X y”)] (X o o ) (X o o y”)) [X o [y” o X] (X o X) (X 0 (X o X) o X)] X o (X o X) X ( X)(X o (X o X) o X o X) (X o X o (XX)XX) ((X o o >)n where the the subscripts i and j represent repetitions of single rooms, and the subscript n represents iterations of a relationship between rooms and sub boundaries. There is a simple sub-pattern as well:
(Xo < Xi >)m where the subscript i represents the number of repetitions of rooms, and m represents the number of iterations of the pattern. Cindadela Chayhuac:
Chayhuac is the other cindadela dating from the end of the Middle Horizon or start of the Chimu I phase of the Late Intermediate Period (ca. A.D. 900-1000). As with Cindadela Uhle, a well-preserved/reconstructed sub-enclosure has been taken as representative of the entire compound. Only the complex floorplan at the bottom of the subcompound is represented here (figure 7). As with the other compounds from Chan Chan considered here, as well as the overall pattern complex within each cindadela, bilateral symmetry is fairly common: (X (X (X (X
o o o o
(X o o (X o ) o (X o X)) ( >) and the second is
X o < Xi
Xj >n> < Xj
These patterns differ only in the symmetry of the iterations. The final pattern in this compound is a further complexification of the basic pattern structure
X o < Xi > < < (X}) (Xk) > and
Xo
Xi >>>
< xk > « xt >m>.
Once again the subscripts represent iterations, or multiple repetitions of specific sub-patterns.
Figure 10: V-124 after Willey 1953: figure 75.
Viru Valley: Site V-124:
Willey’s site V-124 (Willey 1953:324-328) has been ascribed to the Middle Horizon Tomaval phase with an Estero re-occupation (figure 10). It appears that this site was a low-level elite building, based on the presence of a small pyramid within the compound. Ignoring the incomplete walls bounding a lagoon and another open area at the north end of the site, which is incompletely mapped, the pattern shows a rudimentary bilateral symmetry in parts. (XX) o X o (X o ((XX)(X o X)) (X o X)(X o X)(X o X) (X o (X o X)) (X o X)).
The overall pattern appears to be
X o ((XX)(X o X))(X o X)i. While there are obvious differences between this pattern and those from Chan Chan, there are some similarities between it and one of the patterns from ciudadela Uhle. Rimae Valley: Cajamarquilla:
Cajamarquilla (figure 11) is a large, reasonably well preserved site a few miles inland on the Rimae River. Buildings were constructed of adobe bricks of various shapes and tapia/rammed adobe. The latter technique is the most common now visible. Doorways appear to have been inset in the rammed adobe walls without lintels. According to Shady Solis (personal communication), the site probably
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Figure 11: Simplified site plan of Cajamarquilla (redrawn from an aerial photograph).
was built and occupied during Middle Horizon epoch 1A (ca. A.D. 600-650). By epoch IB (ca. A.D. 650-700), the site appears to have been abandoned and the focus seems to have shifted to Pachacamac, about 30 kilometers further south.
The large eastern compound was the clearest on the air photo used to produce the floorplan in this analysis. This compound was chosen because it appears to conform with the overall spatial pattern at the site (based on personal observation), and because of the clarity of the air photo in this section of the site. Its symbolic notation is: (X o (X o (X o (X o X) o (X o X) X (X o ) (X o X) (X o (X o (X o X))(X o ) (X o X) (X o X o X) (X o X o X o (XX)) XoXoXoXoX).
Simplification of the symbolic grammar results in the determination of an overall pattern structure at Cajamarquilla which follows the forms:
(X o < X >i) and
(Xo(XoX),),.
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Figure 12: Sector A, B and F units (after Anders 1981).
Lambayeque Valley: Pampa Grande: Pampa Grande (figure 12) is the largest known, most complex Moche site, and apparently represents the northward shift of the Moche polity’s centre during phase V—ca A.D. 600-700 (Anders 1981). The site commands the headwaters of the pre-Hispanic irrigation system which served the Lambayeque, Leche and Zana valleys.
Three sectors (A, B and F) appear to form the axis of the site, and the spatial patterns of those three sectors have been analysed to determine whether they contain patterning which looks ancestral to the Chimu patterns considered above. Although there are some intuitively obvious differences between Pampa Grande and Chan Chan—especially the use of terracing to form apparent boundaries at the former site—the patterns of the Category I architecture (Anders 1981:395) at Pampa Grande seem to follow a form ancestral to the Chan Chan patterns. The following discussion uses the architectural designations applied by Anders (1981).
Sector B contains two huacas, including the second largest huaca at the site, as well as the largest Category I architecture. Two units are considered, Unit 24, which takes the form (Xo(Xo(Xo(< X4 >< X4 >)))), 132
and Unit 25, which follows the pattern
(.¥o((< X12 X X12 >)),). The largest huaca at Pampa Grande dominated Sector A, which also contained the second largest Category I group—Unit 29, with 20 rooms measuring 4.6 by 3.1 m (Anders 1981:395). Sector A is the oldest enclosure group at the site. The pattern takes the form
(To(To((Xo(Xo(X))) (To(Xo(X))) ((Ao < X10 >)(Xo < X10 >)))), where T represents terraces which seem to serve as barriers. The youngest and smallest of the three sectors, Sector F, contains the third largest huaca at the site, as well as an example of Category I architecture—Unit 30, with 14 rooms each 5.8 by 3 m (Anders 1981:395). The pattern of the Unit 30 Category I architecture takes the form
(To(((ToX) (ToX)) o (To((T)(To(Xo < X7 >< X7 >)))))).
Although there are too few patterns available to determine a true repeating pattern, the Category I architecture at Pampa Grande does appear to follow a single syntax that shows an apparent shift with time. The original pattern, (Xo < Xn >)„
where the subscripts i and j represents repetitions changes with the construction of Sector B to the form (Xo(< Xr >)„). The Pampa Grande patterns, therefore, seem to demonstrate the addition of an extra level of exclusion after the initial construction of the site.
Analysis of pattern similarity:
To recapitulate: the central thesis of this paper is that elite places containing a ritual component can be expected to have been governed by the structure and rules of the ritual/religious systems of the dominant society where that society used ritual to bind its members together under a common identity. Where the elite places belonged to an autonomous polity, spatial patterns would have developed from local rules, while the imposition of control by an external society (conquest) should be visible in the archaeological remains as discontinuous patterns in the dominated area. It may be immaterial whether elite places contained what we recognise as specific ritual loci or not in this regard, since in traditional societies, where the elite controlled ritual activity, all elite places could be considered to have been subsumed within the sacralised systems. The spatial patterning of elite places can be assumed to have incorporated the ritual cosmography of the dominant elite (local or otherwise) in keeping with
133
function as loci for the creation and renewal of group bonding. Furthermore, the association of elite places with the sacralisation of group identity in traditional societies would have ensured that the structure, or patterning, of those places was as controlled against “illegitimate” variability as any deeply embedded system which provided group cohesion and the maintenance of the status quo. Where the dominant elite derived from the local society, spatial patterns would also originate from the local idiom. That is, by the time a traditional society leaves the sorts of archaeological sites wherefrom we can clearly deduce the former presence of a well-stratified society, probability suggests that the architectural spatial patternings of that society should be differentiable from those of its autonomous neighbours. It should be possible, therefore, to find evidence of foreign domination through the appearance of non-locally derived spatial patterns at complex sites if the conquering group used similar mechanisms for the sacralisation of group identity as the dominated group. This assumes that the conquering elite imposed its own ritual structure in the dominated area, or modified the extant system to conform in some way to its own idiom, in order to create or subvert extant cohesion systems to bind the subordinate society to it. It is assumed in this that the conquering society had developed sufficient internal complexity to have produced differentiable spatial patterns of its own. The effects of conquest should also be visible following the collapse and centripetalisation of an imperial system. Desanctification processes (cf Rappaport 1971, 1973, 1979) can be expected to have affected social systems proportionally to their ability to sacralise imperial identity. A polity that declared its indepen dence from the imperial system would have developed new cognitive symbols which deviated from those of the empire as a function of the distance it placed between itself and its former social affiliations as well. In other words, maximum dislocation occurs when the society abandons highly complex stratification for something which could be termed a chiefdom (cf Service 1962), for example.
It can be expected, then, that following the devolution of a complex society composed of a number of disparate societies into its component parts through the re-acquisition of autonomy by the formerly subject groups, those subject groups would have developed independent patterns, some of which would have been derived from the conqueror’s patterns. With the exception of societies which regained their autonomy while the old (pre-conquest) patterns were still understood, the re-acquisition of autonomy should result in a period of variability, during which new ritual and spatial traditions developed to replace those of the conquering group.
Thus, if Moche were part of a Wari Empire, and if the Wari introduced its own spatial patterns into the area, Chan Chan should show evidence of the evolution of a new Chimu spatial pattern following the centripetalisation of the old imperial structure. The absence of both modified Wari patterns on the one hand, and temporal variability in spatial patterns, on the other hand, would suggest the patterns found at Chan Chan may have derived from a continuous local tradition, rather than having been influenced by some foreign
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source. Strengthening the argument for the absence of Wari control on the North Coast is the expression of a decidedly non-Wari pattern at Pampa Grande which seems ancestral to the much more formal and developed patterns at Chan Chan (see also Czwarno n.d.). I have chosen to use the Moraduchayoq spatial pattern in looking for evidence of Wari patterns because it appears to have been an administrative area (Brewster-Wray 1983, this volume; Schreiber 1978, for example), as well as having appeared in several Middle Horizon contexts in the Ayacucho area. The spatial patterning, using the Moraduchayoq section of Wari takes the form of a square enclosure, typically with four serial corridor/rooms around the periphery. These serial galleries relate symetrically to the central square enclosure and to the outer boundary of the structure. In symbolic notation this architectural form is expressable as
(X oX o < XXXX >), which I call the Wari estate structure (see also Czwarno 1988). While other spatial patterns also appear in Wari elite architecture, the dominant pattern is this estate structure, replicated a number of times. Hence, the form of Wari elite compounds can be expressed as
X o (X o (X o < Xi >));, where subscript i normally equals 4, and subscript j represents the number of replications of the basic pattern. Cajamarquilla serves as a comparison point in the search for Wari spatial patterns. Although this site clearly dates to the Middle Horizon, it demonstrates an apparent complete absence of the Wari syntax. Although similar to the Wari pattern syntactically, the pattern is one of the symmetrical quadrisection of a large square into (generally) four equal squares. In general form, following the gramatical structure
(X o < Xi >)j, where i normally equals four, and j again represents the replication of the basic pattern form. A second pattern also appears at Cajamarquilla, generally in combination with the above pattern, and seems to be used to subdivide a closed space into a rectangular rather than a square configuration. This second pattern is
(Xo(XoX)i), where subscripts i and j represent pattern repetition. Both these patterns appear to have a low degree of internal variability within the site. The Chan Chan patterns, as those from Cajamarquilla, demonstrate a complete absence of the Wari pattern, and a high degree of internal homogeneity. The most obvious aspect of the Chan Chan/Chimu pattern is bilateral symmetry with occasional apparent conscious breaking of this symmetry. The overall pattern at Chan Chan is one of a single large space filled with small bilaterally symmetrical units interacting equally with the enclosed space, of the general form
(X o « X >i< X >,•>). 135
The earliest cindadelas at Chan Chan (Uhle and Chayhuac), while not identical, show a close similarity suggesting they are variations on a common theme. The three patterns visible at Cindadela Uhle are X o ,
(X o « X, >< Xj »)n >
and
(X o < Xi >)n >, where the subscripts represent the number of repetitions. Cindadela Chayhuac has a similar set of patterns overall, one of which is closely related to the second pattern at Cindadela Uhle X o « Xj >n< X » .
In this case, the subscripts also represent replications, but subscript j means the same number of replications in each instance, and subscript n indicates that the number of replications is bilaterally symmetrical. The other patterns from Cindadela Chayhuac are variations on this pattern
Xo j«Xk >j« (Xj)Xk >< Xi » .
The overall similarity suggests that cindadelas Uhle and Chayhuac both express the same cosmography, with possible variability relating to moiety status. The similarity in spatial patterning continues into the Middle and Late Chimu phases, as shown by the patterning at cindadelas Gran Chimu and Tschudi. In the former, the greatest similarity to earlier architecture is in the structure symbolically representable as
X o «Xi >n>n>< Xk > .
In this instance, although the relations are the same as at Chayhuac and Uhle, the number of replications within sub-patterns differ, but the number of replications of sub-patterns is equal. The similarities between the other two patterns from Cindadela Gran Chimu and those from cindadelas Uhle and Chayhuac is apparent. Furthermore, there is congruence between one of the patterns from Cindadela Gran Chimu and one from Cindadela Tschudi. The pattern is (X o n> < Xj >)m at Gran Chimu and Xo
>j> < Xk >
at Tschudi. The difference is one of the number of replications within a larger boundary, and no apparent difference in spatial grammar is evident. This
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similarity in the last two cindadelas at Chan Chan may reflect some change in the social division between the two moities. Certainly the patterns at Chan Chan seem homogeneous between A.D. 900 to 1470. Variability between contemporary cindadelas may reflect the existence of a moiety structure within the elite, with slightly different patterns belonging to each moiety, though both obviously were derived from the same cosmography. This general lack of temporal variability suggests that the spatial patterns associated with the Chimu were well established by A.D. 900, which in turn suggests that there was continuity in the sacralised identity structures of the Chimu extending back earlier into the Middle Horizon. The discovery of what sort of spatial pattern relationship existed between the Chimu and the Moche must await a formal analysis of the spatial patterns of sites such as Galindo, Pampa Grande and other large Early Intermediate Period and Middle Horizon sites from the Moche area (Czwarno, forthcoming), however, a comparison of the Chan Chan patterns with the Tomaval site of V-124 shows some overall similarity. The pattern visible at V-124 is (X o ((XI)(X o X))(X o X)¿). The similarity between the pattern found at V-124 with one of the patterns from Cindadela Uhle is suggestive, as is the similarity between the Chan Chan patterns and those found at Pampa Grande. The former site is much smaller, perhaps representing a much lower hierarchic position or level of complexity, and the map is much less detailed than Moseley and Mackey’s maps for Chan Chan. Nevertheless, the rudiments of the patterns found much later were present, though without data from the intervening period this may be a function of the difference in complexity between V-124 and the cindadelas, since low-level hierarchic patterns are much less discriminant than higher levels. What can be said at this point is that there is no indication that the Chimu patterns were influenced by the Wari estate syntax in any way, since the grammars are too divergent.
Conclusions: In this paper I have analysed some late Middle Horizon complexes from Chan Chan in relation to other Middle Horizon sites from the Central coast and South highlands. I was looking for evidence that the Wari estate structure (and, by inference, that the Wari elite) influenced the later development of the North Coast directly. My analysis is based on the assumption that a foreign elite would have taken its rituals, religion and ritual cosmography with it into new subject areas. This assumption is based on the further assumption that at least part of the emic definition of elite status was predicated on the control of ritual and ritual space, and that the emic view of ritual space held by an elite governed the way in which that elite bounded and subdivided its own special architecture. I have also hypothesised that the spatial patterning of elite buildings probably represented the emic view of the way in which the universe is bounded
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and subdivided—the cosmography of the ruling elite. Thus, the imposition of a new order on an existing society, as occurs following the conquest of one group by another, can be expected to have forced the conquered elite into accepting the spatial patterning and cosmography of the conquering elite. I suggest that the conquered elite would have necessarily adopted the dominant cosmography because that cosmography would have been important in the dominant ritual— to demonstrate the conquered elite’s continued status within the dominated group, and to place the newly conquered elite within the hierarchy of the dominating group.
It can also be expected that, following the collapse of the dominant group’s control over a conquered area, the spatial patterning which had developed in the conquered area under the dominant group would form the basis for subsequent development (assuming that the patterns had been in place long enough for previous patterns to loose their meaning). That is, with time the cosmography and elite building floorplans based on that cosmography would have become sanctified as the “correct” expressions of ritual and ritual/elite places. Thus, following the dismantling of the political structure which gave rise to a new cosmography in a subject area, that cosmography would develop along a trajectory independent from that followed in the formerly dominant area, but that new development would be based on the introduced cosmography.
By analysing the internal spatial patterning of elite architecture, it should be possible to determine the presence of a foreign dominant elite. As a corollary to this, therefore, the absence of any indications of the presence of a foreign cosmography should be indicative of the absence of foreign domination. Thus, the lack of similarity in elite spatial patterning in the Moche/Chimu area with the Wari area seems to suggest that the North Coast was not conquered by the Wari during the Middle Horizon, but rather that the Moche/Chimu area continued to develop along an essentially local pattern. This is also suggested by the apparent developmental sequence—in terms of spatial grammar—between Pampa Grande and Chan Chan. If the assumption that spatial patterning represented the cosmography and ritual space of the dominant group was valid during the Middle Horizon (as appears to be the case), then the lack of Wari patterning suggests that the Wari state was not seen as dominant by the elite of the Moche/Chimu state, or by the elite of the Cajamarquilla state either for that matter. In turn this suggests that the Middle Horizon political landscape may have represented the fluorescence or consolidation of a number of autonomous states, of which the Wari state was one. The distribution of Middle Horizon ceramics throughout Peru from approximately Cajamarca and the Moche areas in the North to Pikillaqta and the Cerro Baúl areas in the South seems to indicate that these autonomous states were linked by a common religious expression, although no particular state was pre-eminent over the others (Czwarno, n.d.).
Further analyses of the elite spatial patterns of Middle Horizon sites and their local antecedents are, of course, required to demonstrate the validity of this argument. Certainly the apparent correlation between emic structures for
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the definition and the confirmation of group identity with etic spatial grammars suggests another avenue for the investigation of past societies and their political landscapes. Acknowledgements: A number of people have made comments on this paper in its various forms, especially Martha Anders, Ian Farrell, Frank Meddens, Alexandra Morgan and Lynda Spickard, and I would like to thank them for their input and suggestions. Any errors and omissions are, of course, entirely my responsibility. Support for this work comes from a Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada Doctoral Fellowship and the good folk at Metrakenetan Co-op in Victoria. Many thanks.
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Service, E.R. 1962 Primitive Social Organization. Random House, New York. 1975 Origins of the State and Civilization: The Process of Cultural Evolution. Norton, New York. 1978 Classical and modern theories of the origins of government. In Origins of the State: The Anthropology of Political Evolution, edited by R. Cohen and E.R. Service, pp 21-33. Institute for the Study of Human Issues, Philadelphia.
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Smith, M.G. 1978 Conditions of change in social stratification. In The Evolution of Social Systems, edited by J. Friedman and M.J. Rowlands, pp 29-48. University of Pittsburgh Press, Pittsburgh. Terada, K. 1985 Early ceremonial architecture in the Cajamarca valley. In Early Cere monial Architecture in the Andes, edited by C.B. Donnan, pp 191-208. Dumbarton Oaks, Washinton, D.C. Wright, H.T. 1977 Recent research on the origin of the state. In Annual Review of Anthropology 6:379-397.
1978 Towards and explanation of the origin of the state. In Origins of the State: The Anthropology of Political Evolution, edited by R. Cohen and E.R. Service, pp 49-64. Institute for the Study of Human Issues, Philadelphia. 1986 The evolution of civilizations. In A Celebration of the Society edited by D.J. Meltzer, D.D. Smithsonian Institution Press,
American Archaeology Past and Future: for American Archaeology 1935-1985, Fowler and J.A. Sabloff, pp 323-365. Washington, D.C.
Zipf, G.K. 1949 Human Behaviour and the Principle of Least Effort. Addison-Wesley, Reading, MS.
Appendix A: Several questions were raised in relation to this paper during the Wari sympo sium at the International Congress in Amsterdam. For the most part, I hope they have been addressed in the paper. Two points were not addressed, how ever, because I did not feel they fit logically within the thesis of my argument, although they are valid questions. The first concern related to the fact that I did not use measurements in this analysis system. While the measurement of archaeological sites is vital for the production of the sorts of highly accurate maps necessary for an analysis of spatial grammar, their use with spatial grammar analysis does not appear appropriate here. Much more complex, mathematical analyses of spatial grammar, such as calculations of pattern integration—an analytical method which quantifies the permeability of archaeological sites—requires not only accurate linear measurement, but also accurate data concerning the locations of egresses. Since the latter were not equally available in all the sites used, the former were not useful in the analysis carried out here. What I was concerned with was the identification of replicated patterns, and size—both linear and areal scales—were an unnecessary complication at this stage. More detailed analyses, which include more-or-less complete access pattern determination, require an analysis of scale, however. In other words, though scale may be important at times, it does not appear necessary in an analysis of the grammatical structure of spatial patterning. There seems to be a correlation between size and spatial
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pattern complexity, in the form of analysis used here, that correlation is used in an empirical qualified manner, rather than in a strict quantified form, by concentrating on basic complex patterns (such as the Wari estate syntax, for example), rather than by looking for patterns of scale (such as the patterns of subdivisions and access control within areas weighted by topographic size). Based on my familiarity with the technique, it is my intuitive feeling that patterns of scale add needless complexity to a grammatical approach except where a full formal analysis of integration is attempted. My data did not allow that level of complexity! The second question raised which has not been addressed within the body of the paper concerns my use of Cajamarquilla as a comparison. The Wari estate syntax, as I have defined it, has been classed as a Wari administrative building form (see Brewster-Wray, this volume; Isbell, this volume; Schreiber 1978, for example). Cajamarquilla was used because of its apparent complete lack of conformity with the Wari pattern. My intention was to demonstrate, briefly, that the Wari estate syntax was not necessarily associated with Middle Horizon coastal sites. A comparison of Cajamarquilla and Chan Chan suggests that coastal patterns follow a distinctly regional form—-at least in the Central and North coastal areas, while a comparison of Chan Chan and Pampa Grande suggests that the Chan Chan syntax appears to continue the development already present with the founding of that Moche V centre.
Syntax expressions: The final matter which perhaps needs elucidation is the symbolisation used in this analysis. Only a brief description of the system is given here. A more complete statement of the methodology used is given in Czwarno (n.d.) and Hillier and Hanson (1984), although I have modified the concepts presented by the latter somewhat where Hillier and Hanson’s grammar seemed a little forced within the types of architectural analysis which may be of use to archaeologists.
As with most non-mathematicians, I tend to feel decidedly uncomfortable when faced with complex equations. Although the syntactical representations used here look mathematical, they are not. They represent relationships between space and walls, and represent a form of morphic language (Piaget 1956; see also Hillier and Hanson 1984). These relationships, then, are based on rules of association, the most obvious of which is the rule of boundedness. This is the separation of one part of the landscape from all other parts of the landscape by a physical barrier, which is denoted by ‘X\ Thus, a wall ‘X’, is related to two spaces, that which it contains, ‘j/’, and that which it excludes, ‘Y’. The symbol for relationship is ‘o’, and the point of conjunction between V’ and ‘V’ is ly”’ (the egress). Using these symbols, then, an area which is bounded by a single circumfer ence wall broken by one egress has the relationship (or pattern)
Y o (X o y') o y”
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in its full expression. I have used a shorthand form wherever possible, which replaces (X o y1') o y" with a simple ‘X’, thereby subsuming both contained spaces and egresses within the boundary symbol. I also tend to leave the unbounded space, lY\ implicit, partially because ‘X’ is defined by its relation with ‘K’, and partly because I have not dealt with complete site patterns here, and therefore each of the bounded spaces considered is generally itself bounded at at least one more level.
Where two bounded spaces relate equally to the bounded space which contains them, the relationship is represented syntactically by the symbol ‘o’. This is the rule of symmetry (Czwarno n.d.). What ‘o’ means, then, is that the bounded spaces contained within the angle brackets are equal. Thus, a single expression of the Wari estate syntax, for example, bears the same relationships between gallery/corridors and central patio, even if rotated through 90°. Simply put, what ‘o’ indicates is analogous to bilateral symmetry: if you put a mirror on the axis of the larger boundary, such that half of the bounded area was on the reflective side of the mirror, the reflected image would be the same as the pattern on the non-reflective side of the mirror. Thus, two bounded spaces interacting equally with their common boundary, and the space enclosed by that common boundary, can be written as
X o < XX > where it is understood that this is a short form of the full syntactic expression
y o ((X o y') < ((X o y') oy”)>< ((X o y') o y”) > o y”). Where egresses are important, the shorthand notation can be expanded to include the level of access control by superscripting. Thus, the first egress (into the common bounded area, for example), can be called the first control level, and the egresses to the contained structures are the second level, since each is indepenent of the other, and equal in relation to the first level, such that the access level is written as (X1 < X2 X2 >). Where it is necessary to distinguish between types of boundaries, other symbols can be introduced. Thus the symbol ‘T’ can be used to signify terraces, for example, with all other conventions being the same. It will be noticed that ‘()’ also appear within the syntactical expressions. These also represent relationships. In this case, ‘()’ represents levels of “nesting”. The symbol ‘()’, then, represents the rule of association or conjunction. Items contained within the same outer brackets all relate to the same boundary. Disjunction (separateness) is represented by a lack of outer, containing brackets, except where symmetry replaces conjunction. Thus,
(X1 < X2 X2 >) actually implies
(X1 (< X2 X2 >)),
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except that symmetry is stronger than conjunction, and conjunction is therefore implicit within symmetry. The final convention is the estate syntax, which represents a repeating complex pattern. The Moraduchayoq section of Wari (see Brewster-Wray 1983, this volume), for example, contains a number of spatial arrangements, each of which can be expressed in shortened form as
(X o < XXXX > X).
Since this pattern is repeated a number of times, and also appears at other sites in what has been termed the Wari administrative unit, I have classed it as an estate structure, with is expressed as l{}’. This is simply an “extreme form of shorthand” for a complex pattern. I have purposefully defined only one estate syntax in this paper, but, since estate syntaxes are analyst-dependent, any number could have been defined. In that case, it helps to use other defined symbols within the curly brackets. Thus, the Moraduchayoq estate syntax could equally well have been written as ‘{M}’.
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Implications of camelid management and textile production for Huari Frank M. MeddensJ
Introduction In this paper specific aspects of the southward expansion of the Huari culture during the Middle Horizon are reviewed. In particular, camelid management and textile use in the Chicha/Soras and Espinar regions are considered, with specific reference to the sites of Yako and Tajra Chullo.
Textiles and wool The importance of textiles and clothing in pre-Hispanic Peru has been noted elsewhere (Murra 1980, Rowe 1979). Indications suggest that the economic and ritual role played by textiles and dress during the Late Horizon reflected a long and ancient tradition since textile remains have been recovered in ritual contexts predating the Incas. At the site of Chiqna Jota, in the Lucanas province of the department of Ayacucho, carbonised textile fragments were found as part of an offering dating to Middle Horizon epoch 2 (Meddens 1985:161). A practice of taking the clothes away from prisoners of war was maintained during the Late Horizon. It seems that control over the items of dress gave the victor a type of ritual domination over the prisoner (Garcilaso de la Vega 1722:171). Ceremonial killing of clothing was believed to effect the death of the captive (Zarate 1947:483, 491,; Murra 1980:76). Considering the frequency with which prisoners were depicted naked in many of the pre-Inca cultures, such as Moche and Vicus, it seems likely that the belief in this aspect of dress is of considerable antiquity in Peru. The relationship of clothing and statecraft during the Middle Horizon is suggested by the similarities between Inca modes of dress—which are known to have constituted badges of office (Rowe 1979)—and Middle Horizon poncho-like shirts (Sawyer 1978). It is known that camelid herds were administered by the state during the Late Horizon and that this level of control constituted a form of political power. Besides providing a source of wool, it should be noted that camelids also were used as transport, thus facilitating the state redistribution system (Rostworowski 1988:257).
+ Research Associate, Institute of Archaeology, London and Institute of Andean Studies, Berkeley 146
Cotton and camelid wool were the principal sources of raw material for textiles in the Andean world. The significance of the latter becomes clear when viewing existing collections of Middle Horizon textiles. The majority of these pieces originate from the dry coastal area of Peru, which was and is also the principal cotton growing region. Nevertheless the greater part of this material is made up of cotton/wool mixes or pure wool.
Camelids From both ethnohistorical sources and archaeological evidence it is quite clear that domesticated camelids had a wider distribution in the past than is the case at present . In the past, herds extended both further north in the highlands and along the coast than is currently the case (Rostworowski 1988:255-256; Shimada and Shimada 1985:3-26). There are no apparent physiological reasons for the limited distribution of domesticated camelids at present. In fact, in considering the two domesticated varieties, the llama Lama glama and alpaca L. pacos, the more widely distributed of the two—the llama—has narrower environmental requirements. The llama is prone to debilitating foot diseases in areas which are persistently wet (J. Sumar, personal communication). In reviewing the original distribution of the undomesticated camelid in Peru, problems relating to speciation and ancestry have become apparent. The guanaco (L. guanicoe) ranges from Patagonia in the south to Central Peru in the north. In colonial times guanacos may have ranged as far north as Ecuador (Kent 1982:32-34). Hunting strategies may have altered its distribution (Kent 1982:36). The vicuna Vicugna vicugna is more restricted in distribution, particularly favouring high altitudes. In 1943 vicuñas occured no further south than 38° while the northern limit may have extended into Ecuador as far as 2° south (Kent 1982:37-40). Camelids are physiologically adapted to a high altitude environment, as demonstrated in the quality of the coat, high oxygen utilisation rate in the blood and by the modification of the blood cells to an elliptical shape (Kent 1982:15) It is impossible to define a “natural distribution” of the domesticated varieties (Kent 1982:44). Their distribution would have been manipulated by man and therefore would not be natural (Kent 1982:44). Camelid pastoralism in the Andes did and does occur in a circumscribed area, however—even though this area would have expanded and contracted as a result of human action and environmental change. Traditional pastoralism must have had a maximum and a minimum extents and a central area in which it was most successful. For the purposes of this paper it will be necessary to make an attempt at defining this central area. Archaeological evidence relating to early domestication of camelids is relatively scarce for the Andean area, and the identification of domesticates is difficult (Wing 1975:302-307; Wing 1980:156-164; Rick 1988:39). Evidence from Telarmachay (a cave in the Central Andes) seems to indicate the appearance of a domesticated form of alpaca-like camelid between 4000 and 3500 BC (Wheeler 1984:400-402).
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As a rough indication of this “central area” I have used the distribution of preceramic cave paintings depicting scenes of hunters chasing camelids. This suggests a direct relationship between man and animal—one which was considered important enough to depict in a manner which seems likely to have been related to ritual, and which may have dated to the likely time of the first domestication experiments. The area in which clear evidence for such an intense animal-man relationship exists could well be a likely area in which early experiments in the domestication of the species occurred. It is, therefore, a suitable candidate for the central area under discussion. Examples of the abovementioned type of rock art are known from the Central Highlands from an area between Lauricocha and Huarochiri (Rick 1988:23). Other examples exist in the Southern Highlands, from the province of Espinar—one such example is a rockshelter near Mauccallacta, and others are known (Fernando Astete, personal communications)—to Toquepala near Tacna (Kauffman Doig 1978:124). The cave paintings tend to be small and executed in a red pigment. Camelids are good at exploiting high altitude pasture—an environment too harsh for agriculture. Agricultural land in the Andes constituted a limited resource and its use was maximised by complex agricultural systems employing terracing, irrigation and manuring technologies . As in general there would have been no need for pastoralism and agriculture to compete for the same ecological niche, a concentration of herding communities in the high puna appears to make sense. Pastoralism concentrated in the area which could not easily be exploited by agriculture, but where pastoralism itself could flourish.
Changes during the Middle Horizon In order to understand the impact of the Middle Horizon on the Southern Highlands it is important to have a brief look at the preceding Early Intermediate Period. This will enable us to view the Middle Horizon in its temporal context, thereby allowing us to assess the changes which took place after the Early Intermediate Period. The Southern Highlands show remarkably little evidence of human occupation during the Early Intermediate Period (Meddens 1985; R. Orellana N., personal communication). Two damaged Pucara-style anthropomorphic sculptures—found near the community of Choqepillu, at the site of Waraq’oyoq Q’asa (South of the Rio Apurimac in the province of Chumbivilcas)—should be noted in this context (Nunez del Prado 1971:23-32). The size and quality of these sculptures suggests that this part of the Southern Highlands at least, was of some importance during the Early Intermediate Period. During the Middle Horizon the significance of this region may have persisted as the ritual site of K’ullupata in the nearby Pomacanchi area indicates (San Roman 1983). Low human population density during the Early Intermediate Period may well have been the result of the type of exploitation used in the regional environment. It is suggested here that one of the principal resource bases in the Southern Highlands consisted of camelid herds. These would have been most effectively exploited using hunting and/or pastoralist herding techniques. Both
148
these strategies would result in dispersed demographic patterns and low densitypopulations. A detailed environmental sequence for the Central and Southern Highlands will be necessary in any future work which attempts to assess the nature of, and the reasons for, demographic change in this area. In addressing Wari as an expanding cultural entity of state- and eventually empire-like dimensions, its presence in the southern highlands begs certain questions—such as its relationship to the neighbouring and related Tiahuanaco culture. The frontier or boundary area between these two cultures appears to have shrunk through time, in respect to the respective core areas of expansion. The existence of outlying colonies of both Tiahuanaco and Wari have been noted—such as Cerro Baúl, a Wari outlier on the South Coast (see Feldman, this volume).
Two Highland sites In order to review Wari expansion to the south with respect to camelid management, two highland sites will be discussed. Neither of these two sites fit the pattern of architectural planning which has largely been accepted as typical of Wari state installations (for example, see Brewster-Wray, this volume; Isbell, this volume; also Czwarno, this volume). These two sites—Yako and Tajra Chullo—date to Middle Horizon Epochs 1 and 2 respectively (figure 1), thus forming part of two distinct periods of expansion of the Wari sphere of influence. During their periods of Middle Horizon use, both sites appear to have been somewhat isolated and marginal to the developments at the core of the Wari sphere. Both also appear to constitute an entry of the Wari state into areas of previously low density occupation with direct access to environments of high camelid herding potential.
Yako
As this site has been described in detail elsewhere (Meddens, in press) a summary of the principal points will suffice here. Yako is located in the Chicha/Soras valley, on the west bank of the river at an altitude of 3330m above sea level. It is relatively small—measuring 0.62 ha. The site is terraced and contains surface indications of the remains of three structures—two of which are circular, while the third is of unknown groundplan, but incorporates at least some angular corners. The site dates to Middle Horizon Epoch 1 and some of the pottery recovered can be placed in Epoch 1A (figure 2). It appears to have been the only site in the valley during this period. The preceding occupation of the area dates to the Initial Period.
Terracing at the site appears to have been part of a larger system. Excavation of some of the terracing indicates the construction was carefully thought-out, with construction consisting of well built, roughly dressed fieldstone retaining walls, holding deep soils with carefully prepared drainage levels. These soils 149
Figure 1: The locations of Yako, Tajra Chullo and several other Middle Horizon sites.
appear to have been brought into the site, and to have been well maintained. No irrigation canals were associated with the system.
The relative isolation of Yako should be noted—the nearest site with Middle Horizon Epoch 1 occupation is Jincamocco, in the Carahuarazo valley (Schreiber 150
ŸAKO MH 1
Figure 2: Middle Horizon pottery from Yako
151
1978:5-7). Yako appears to be near the southern limit of the Wari core area during Middle Horizon 1. Certainly, with respect to Middle Horizon 1A remains, the site appears to be part of an expansion of the Ayacucho valley cultural complex which commenced prior to the incorporation in its art-styles of Tiahuanaco influences. Pottery and architectural remains pertinent to this argument have been located in the Nasca drainage at the sites of Huaca del Loro, Tres Palos II and Pacheco (Paulsen 1983: 100-104). At the site of Locari a circular structure could also reflect this early highland influence (Neudecker 1979:287-289). Pottery from the site of Huaca del Oro in the Cañete valley suggests links with the Acuchimay style of Middle Horizon 1A from the Ayacucho area (Kroeber 1937: Plate LXVII, 3, centre right). With respect to the higher density of camelids in the south of Peru, one important reason for the early presence of Wari in the Chicha/Soras area seems likely to reflect a need for access to camelids and more particularly, a wool resource base (Meddens 1989: in press).
Tajra Chullo The site of Tajra Chullo is located in the Virginiyoc canyon, Provincias Altas, in the area of Espinar, where the Quebrada Pujruta joins the Rio Apurimac (figure 3). The rainy season falls between October and March, with the wettest period falling between February to March. During this time the maximum daytime temperatures rise to 10°C and, rarely, as high as 25° C . The dry season is from April to September, with particularly cold nights occurring from May to July, daytime temperatures range from 23-25°C, at night falling to —3 to —5°C (Astete 1978: chapter 1).
Two ecological zones have been recognized in the province of Espinar, and the local population attempts to maintain access to both (Orlove 1977:89). The lower zone ranges from 3900-4200 mASL, the higer from 4200-5200 meters. Agriculture is limited to the lower zone (Orlove 1977:90, 93).
The canyon system appears to cut through volcanic formations. The river near the site is roughly at an altitude of 4000m, and the canyon walls rise almost vertically to the level of the surrounding altiplano some 100 meters above. During the rainy season of 1987-1988—when the visit on which this report is based occurred—the vegetation within the canyon consisted of highland grasses, shrubs and small groves of trees, mostly queñua (Polylepis sp). The vegetation at the site consists of high puna grasses and shrubs, and some areas are used for the cultivation of potatoes at present.
The potential resources of the region are camelids, gold, copper, clay and a variety of mineral and stone types. The latter resource base has been identified as being both present and used in lithic production. It consist of silex, basalt, obsidian, rhyolite and chalcedony varieties such as opal, agate and jasper (Astete 1978). The region also appears to have formed part of the traditional access route 152
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4 1100000
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Figure 3: Tajra Chullo, in the province of Espinar, and various other sites in the area.
153
to the Arequipa area. Some of the structures associated with the road passing through the canyon date to the early 18th century.
The location of this site at the confluence of two rivers should be noted. This constitutes a recognised position of ritual significance in Andean thinking—an idea of balance between opposites appears to have been an important underlying aspect in the siting of this type of place (Isbell 1980:113; Mayer 1977:72). Various aspects of burial rites—such as clothes washing and burning ceremonies tend to be carried out at or near the confluence of rivers and streams (Meddens 1985:129-130). The main sector of the site is situated at an altitude of 4100mASL. The boundaries of this sector are defined by steep, almost vertical, 100m cliff faces dropping down towards the rivers. There is only one route of access to the main part of the site—from the west. This passes by a series of parallel rectangular Inca structures with trapezoidal niches, windows and doorways. The latter appear to be relatively tall and narrow. A large open area or plaza containing a tall rock at the centre faces these buildings. This stone is a natural feature, which, because of its prominent location and extraordinary shape, may have constituted a huaca. The path to the main sector of the site contains—in places—carved steps and constructed stairs and is associated with containing walls. A unique and notable feature of the path is the presence of two series of camelid footprints carved into the rock (figure ^a). The footprints are to scale and descend the trail. At the location where most of these carved camelid tracks were found, carved markings in the stone seemed to suggest skidding or slipping by the animals (figure Jb). These petroglyphs cannot be dated securely, however their presence suggests a date anywhere between Middle Horizon Epoch 2 and the Late Horizon. As the principal Inca occupation appears to be located at the base of the site a Collao or Middle Horizon date seems more likely. Further spatial analysis of the site might clarify the dating of this feature.
Over 100 standing stone structures occur at the site. These vary in plan from circular and oval structures to rectangular buildings. In most cases the masonry consists of roughly dressed fieldstone, although dressed fieldstone similar to ashlar also occurs. The function of the constructions appears to vary—a number of the buildings are likely to have been administrative, as is suggested by their larger sizes (17.5m by 7m and larger). Others structures undoubtedly served as tombs—these consist of chullpas with associated human remains. The remainder of the buildings seem likely to have been habitations and qolqas.
On the south-eastern margin of the site, looking upstream up the Virginiyoc canyon are several buildings which I feel suggest characteristic Wari architecture. These Wari-like structures have walls which are wider at the base and taper to the top; have small, squarish niches, and lines of corbels. A particular detail worth of note is an arrangement of two square niches followed by a miniature square niche. A similar pattern can be observed in walls excavated by Mario Benavides in the Cheqo Wasi sector of Huari (figures 5a. 5b) (Benavides 1984:49). A comparable miniature niche was also be found in the Vegachayoc Moqo sector of Huari (Benavides 1984:49). The structures are rectangular in 154
Figure 4: Representations of camelid footprints (4a) and camelid footprints and slip or skid marks (4b) in Tajra Chullo.
design—the best preserved ones have gables and appear to have been associated with patio areas (figure 6). These characteristics—with the exception of the miniature niche layout— certainly occur in other pre-Colombian Peruvian architectural styles. I suggest that this particular combination of features—as they occur at Tajra Chullo—are part of a local variant of Wari architecture, and that local constraints resulted in the adaptation of Wari architectural plans into forms other than the “typical” rectangular enclosure.
Also of interest at Tajra Chullo is a group of thirty or more large boulders which are interspersed amongst the buildings, and which have been carved in various ways. For the most part, carving consists of one or more circular depressions cut into the surface. I suggest these boulders represent huacas, and constitute the presence of a ritual aspect to the site (figure 7). Surface collections of ceramics were made at Tajra Chullo1—these appear to reflect a true sample of the periods and pottery styles present. The earliest identifiable ceramic material recovered dates to Middle Horizon Epoch 2 and consists of Vinaque-like pottery—mostly cups (with straight or slightly flaring sides and flat bases), and open and incurving bowls. The design motifs are geometric, and consist of a variety of design panels mostly with dot-filler elements (both outlined and unoutlined ) (figures 8a, 8c, 8d}. Other motifs
155
Figure 5a: Square niche arrangements with miniature niche at Tajra Chullo.
Figure 5b: Square niche arrangement with miniature niche in the Cheqo Wasi sector at Wari.
156
Figure 6: Rectangular structures at Tajra Chullo, dating to Middle Horizon 2.
include abstract feather designs; a large outlined circle with a cross motif with dots in the quarters separated by the cross; a vertical outlined wavy line design; and a grid pattern with a basic lozenge shape to the mesh (figure 9f). Among the sherds was a fragment with part of a design suggestive of a variation on the
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Figure 7:
An example of a boulder with a carved circular depression.
disembodied feline head theme (Lyon 1966: plate VI). The pigment colours used on this pottery are red, brown, orange, grey, black and white, and the surface finish was usually matte, although polished examples were also found. One example of a small bowl (figure 8b) is similar to pottery collected at K’ullupata (a site in the Pomacanchi district, province of Acomayo, the department of Cusco) (San Roman, personal communication). K’ullupata was a ritual centre (San Roman 1983:66-72). The similarity between the two fragments of pottery from K’ullupata and Tajra Chullo is such (same vessel shape, same motif, same modular width of design elements and same colour combination) that direct contact or some sort of relationship between the two sites may be indicated. Pomacanchi appears to have been of some importance during the Middle Horizon—this is suggested not only because of the ritual site of K’ullupata, but also because of the types of grave-goods reported to have come from there (Chavez 1984-1985: 1-48). These grave-goods included metal plumes which seem to have been associated with individuals of high rank (Chavez 19841985:4-6).
Part of the material collected at Tajra Chullo appears to consist of a version of the Collao style, dating to the Late Intermediate Period. This consists of open bowls and necked jars, the base colour of which is a deep (bordeau) red pigment which does not adhere well to the paste. Designs consist primarily of parallel black lines and bands—sometimes in a wavy line motif—placed horizontally on the interiors of open bowls, just below the lip, and on the exteriors of jar necks. One sherd stylistically originating from the Arequipa area during the 158
TAJRA CHULLO MH2
Figure 8:
Middle Horizon 2 pottery from Tajra Chullo.
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Late Intermediate Period was found, and Inca-style pottery of the Late Horizon was also present. The location of Tajra Chullo should be seen in relation to its placement on the southern margin of the Wari expansion, particularly with respect to our present knowledge of Wari cultural remains, within this area. During Middle Horizon 2 the Wari expansion is thought to have extended as far south as Sicuani, which is considered to have constituted the frontier region (Isbell 1988:186).
Tajra Chullo is prominently situated and inaccessible. Entry to the principal part of the site is restricted to a single route, everywhere else sheer cliffs rise up 100m. The defensive aspect of Tajra Chullo in relation to its ritual and economic significance requires consideration. Construction of the site on what is effectively a mountain top would have required a much greater labour input than if a location on the flat—either on the canyon floor or on the surrounding altiplano—had been chosen. This suggests an unstable political situation, since pastoralism tends to favour concentration of settlement only where there is need for a common defence (Rowlands 1972:451). The presence of an aggressor may also have influenced the construction of a defensible ritual site—to preserve the social well-being of the community through the preservation of a ritual centre from hostile neighbours (see Rowlands 1972:448). The nature of a high altitude, primarily pastoralist, economy results in dispersed populations. At present this is reflected in Espinar in the existence of large numbers of widely spaced hamlets. These generally constitute the homesteads and associated corrals of single nuclear families which do, however, belong to larger communities with recognised kin ties. The families tend to maintain two residences in the two distinct ecozones available. Contempory peasant communities appear to approach these two environments as a single production system (Orlove 1977:95). Transhumance corresponds to the yearly availability of various different grasses (Orlove 1977:92). From the limited amount of data on the area, it appears that this demographic pattern is of considerable antiquity here. Particularly, ancient abandoned corrals form an easily identifiable feature on the landscape, and are often associated with ruined structures and, occasionally, with cave sites. In order for such a pastoralist economy to function within a state-organised structure, centres from which production and redistribution can be monitored and controlled become essential. It appears that the highlands of southern Peru formed an essential part of the expanding and consolidating Wari state. Access to camelid wool for religious as well as socio-economic and political reasons appears to have played a significant role in this respect. The limited extent of a preceding—or a contemporary Middle Horizon cultural component of local origin—is intriguing.
The presence of grinding stones and mortars at Tajra Chullo suggests the processing of grain crops. These would have been maize and/or quinoa, both of which would have been difficult to grow in economically viable quantities close to the site—suitable agricultural areas are at least a day’s travel away. The exchange of primary produce, or contact with grain producing areas, therefore appears to be indicated. In this respect the presence of terraces in the canyon, 160
TAJRA CHULLO MH2
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which appear to relate to agricultural activities, should be mentioned. As these are at an altitude of 4000m above sea level it seems unlikely that—if these terraces were used for the cultivation of grain crops—that anything other than a ritual return was expected.
Conclusions In comparing the sites of Yako and Tajra Chullo in their respective time spans, the principal factors they appear to have in common are their situation in border areas or margins of the Wari state core. These areas appear to have had low density occupation in the proceeding period. One of the primary functions of these sites seems likely to have been related to the administration of camelid production. Neither site manifests an architectural component comparable with the rectangular enclosure compound thought to be typical of Wari administrative sites. I propose that the available evidence suggests an expansion of Wari from north to south—from the Ayacucho area towards Bolivia—and that one important reason for this expansion related to the control of camelid production—particularly wool resources. The relative nearness of Tajra Chullo to the Tiahuanaco sphere of influence may have resulted in the defensive appearance of this site. From a regional perspective, the altitudinal location of both sites appears related to the exploitation of various ecozones, maximising access potential. In the case of Tajra Chullo, storage may also have played a role, in as much as at this elevation the cold and dryness conserve organic materials well.
Acknowledgements: I would like to take this opportunity to thank the British Academy who provided funding for the fieldwork on which part of this report is based, Fernando Astete V. who found many of the sites in the Virjiniyoc canyon and took me there to see them, Carmen Jurado G, Lucho Nieblas, and Miguel Cornejo for accompanying and helping me in the field, Ruben and Ada Orellana and the Agurto family, Carlos Guzman and the INC in Lima and Cusco for their co-operation and assistance, Julio Sumar, Lucho Lumbreras and Warwick Bray for their advice and comments, M. Czwarno and A. Morgan for their comments 'on this paper. Beverley Meddens and my parents provided much help and support.
End Notes 1 That is to say, diagnostic pottery and lithic material were collected when noticed by the individual field walker, as lack of time precluded more formal sampling strategies. No quantitative interpretations can therefore be made based on this material.
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Bibliography Astete, J.F. 1978 La Industria Litica en la Provincia Alta de Espinar. Informe preprofe sional, Universidad Nacional San Antonio Abad de Cusco, unpublished.
Benavides Calle, M. 1984 Carácter del Estado Wdri. Universidad Nacional de San Cristóbal de Huamanga, Ayacucho, Perú.
Browman, D.L. 1976 Demographic correlations of the Wari conquest of Junin. American Antiquity 41(4):465-477. Chavez, S.J. 1984-1985 Funerary offerings from a Middle Horizon context in Pomacanchi, Cuzco. Ñawpa Pacha 22—23:1-48.
Isbell, B.J. 1980 To Defend Ourselves: Ecology and Ritual in an Andean Village. Institute of Latin American Studies, University of Texas at Austin, Austin TX. Isbell, W.H. 1988 City and state in Middle Horizon Huari. In Peruvian Prehistory, edited by R.W. Keatinge, pp:164-189. Cambridge University Press. Kent, J.D. 1982 The Domestication and Exploitation of the South American Camelids: Methods of analysis and their application to circumlacustrine archae ological sites in Bolivia and Peru. Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Washington University.
Kroeber, A.L. 1937 Archaeological Explorations in Peru. Part IV, Cañete Valley. Field Museum of Natural History Anthropology Memoirs, Volume 11(4). Chicago, IL. Lyon, P.J. 1966 Innovation through archaism: the origins of the lea pottery style. Nawpa Pacha 4:31-62. Mayer, E. 1977 Beyond the nuclear family. In Andean Kinship and Marriage, edited by R. Bolton, E. Mayer. Special publication Number 7, America Anthropological Association. Meddens, F.M. 1985 The Chicha/Soras Valley During the Middle Horizon: Provincial Aspects of Huari. Unpublished Ph.D dissertation, University of London. Menzel, D. 1964 Style and time in the Middle Horizon. Nawpa Pacha 2:1-105. Murra, J.V. 1980 The Economic Organisation of the Inka State. JAI Press, Greenwich, CT. 163
Nuñez del Prado B., J.V. 1971 Dos nuevas estatuas de Estilo Pucará halladas en Chumbivilcas, Perú. Ñawpa Pacha 9:23-32. Orlove, B.J. 1977 Integration through production: the use of zonation in Espinar. Ameri can Ethnologist 4:84-101.
Paulsen, A.C. 1983 Huaca del Loro revisited: the Nasca-Huarpa connection. In Investiga tions of the Andean Past, edited by D.H. Sandweiss, pp 98-121. Cornell University Press, Ithaca, NY. Rick, J.W. 1988 The character and context of highland preceramic society. In Peruvian Prehistory, edited by R.W. Keatinge, pp 3-40. Cambridge University Press.
Rostworowski de Diez Canseco, M. 1988 Historia Del Tahuantinsuyu. Instituto de Estudios Peruanos, Lima.
Rowe, J.H. 1979 Standardization in Inca tapestry tunics. In The Junius B. Bird PreColumbian Textile Conference, edited by A. Pollard Rowe, E.P. Benson, and A. Schaffer, pp 239-264. The Textile Museum, Dumbarton Oaks, Washington DC. Rowlands, M.J. 1972 Defence: a factor in the organisation of settlements. In Man, settlement and urbanism, edited by P. Ucko, Tringham and Dimbleby, pp 447-462. Duckworth, London. San Roman L., W. 1983 Datos ethnohistóricos de Pomacanchi. In Arqueología Andina, edited by A.M. Gibaja Oviedo, pp 66-74. Ediciones Instituto Nacional de Cultura, México-DC. Sawyer, A.R. 1978 Tiahuanaco tapestry design. In Peruvian Archaeology: Selected Readings, edited by J.H. Rowe and D. Menzel, pp 165-176. Peek Publications, Palo Alto, CA. Schreiber, K.J. 1978 Planned Architecture of Middle Horizon Peru: Implications for Social and Political Organisation. Unpublished Ph.D dissertation, State Uni versity of New York at Binghamton. Shimada, M. and I. Shimada 1985 Prehistoric llama breeding and herding on the North Coast of Peru. American Antiquity 5O(l):3-26. Garcilaso de la Vega, el Inca 1722 Historia General del Peru, Trata el Descubriemento, de el, y como lo ganaron los Españoles: Las Guerras Civiles, Que Huvo entre Pizarro y Almagro. Madrid.
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Villasante LI, M. 1978 El problema mercantil simple y la economía campesina de Espinar. Critica Andina 1:77-111. Revista del Instituto de Estudios Sociales, Cusco. 1986 El rol de la Artesanía en la economía campesina en provincias al tas Avances de Investigación, Instituto de Investigación UNSAACNUFFIC. Wheeler, J.C. 1984 On the origins and early development of camelid pastoralism in the Andes. In Animals in Archaeology III: Early Herders and their Flocks, edited by J. Clutton-Brock and C. Grigson, pp 395-410. BAR Series 202. Wing, E.S. 1975 Hunting and herding in the Peruvian Andes. In Archaeolzoological studies, edited by A.T. Clason, pp. 302-308. North-Holland Publishing Company, Amseterdam. 1980 Faunal remains. In Guitarrero Cave: Early Man in the Andes,edited by T.F. Lynch, pp. 149-164. Academic Press, New York. Zárate, A. de 1947[1555] Historia del descubrimiento y conquista del Perú. In Historiadores primitivos de Indias, Tomo 2, edited by E. de Vedia, pp 459-574. Biblioteca de Autores Españoles, Madrid.
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Change and cultural interaction in the Middle Horizon: the evidence of the pottery figurines Alexandra Morgan t
The cultural upheaval known as the Middle Horizon had a marked influence on figurine production. This impact manifests itself in a number of ways, implying a significant change in the established cultural order. Here I would like to examine the three most important aspects of the changes occuring in the field of pottery figurines during the Middle Horizon:
1: There is a clear break in the figurine tradition in the best known cultural areas—the North, the Central and the South coasts. This break is marked by new types of figurines and/or by new manufacturing techniques and, of course, by new wares. 2: There is evidence that these changes are brought about, at least partly, by wide-ranging inter-regional contacts and by stylistic influences travelling in unpredictable directions, not necessarily always from the putative core, as could be expected in the wake of a Wari expansion. 3: A result of these two aspects is the wide geographic distribution—for the first time in Peruvian pre-history—of specific figurine types. Before developing these points, a few words are necessary concerning the material on which they are based. Of the approximately 2500 figurines recorded in main museums and private collections in Peru, the United States and Europe, about 350 can be assigned to the Middle Horizon. Only a very small percentage of these—ca. 15%—has a documented provenance.
This lack of documentation is a major problem when one sets out to trace “movements”—either of stylistic traits or of the actual objects themselves. However, there are a number of converging clues which allow us to determine— with a fair degree of certainty—the general area where a type originates. The most obvious indication is similarity with a known style and, within that style, with iconographic attributes especially those involving human features, such as face-neck jars. Another clue is the presence or absence of a given figurine type in local collections: for instance, the Museo Bruning in Lambayeque holds no Nasta figurine, just as no Sican figurines are found in the collections of the Museo Regional de lea. The same criterion also applies to private collections, especially earlier ones, when acquisitions tended to be obtained directly from local huaqueros. Beyond that there is usually a fair consensus in provenance J The Institute of Archaeology, University College London.
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attributions, though one must try to assess whether these were given by museum curators simply on the basis of stylistic similarities or whether they were founded on more solid evidence. On the whole the wider regional provenance of a type can be established with a fair degree of accuracy.
The three aspects of the Middle Horizon impact on figurines—that is a break in figurine tradition, inter-regional contacts and wide distribution of certain types—are clearly interrelated, so they will be treated together.
The Central Highlands and the South Coast Since the Wari movement started in the south of the country, let us begin with the Nasca drainage, where a well established figurine tradition existed during the Early Intermediate Period, at least from Nasca phase 4. Here a marked change occurs during Nasca 8, when the traditional naturalistic figurines of the preceding phases (Lapiner 1976: figures 479, 480) become either extremely stylized and stiff (figure 1) or are replaced by stelae-like figures (figure 2). It is worth noting here that the last phase of the Early Intermediate Period everywhere in Peru may well provide clues to the Middle Horizon phenomenon which have not yet been fully exploited. The abandonment of Moche and the move inland and to the north correlates with Moche V figurines of lower quality than those of the earlier phases. A similar sharp decline occurs on the South Coast, with poor quality Nasca 8 figurines and an obvious illiteracy of the population at the time regarding the symbolic meaning of the preceding classic Nasca iconography. On the Central Coast the evidence is less clear, mainly through lack of material from the late phases of the Lima culture. At the very beginning of the Middle Horizon (MH1A) a figurine group1— clearly originating in the southernmost part of the Central Highlands— appears on the South Coast (figure 5). Although there is only one excavated example of this figurine group—from the Cheqo Wasi sector at Huari (Benavides 1984: lámina XXIIg)—and a couple of fragments collected by John Rowe at Nawim Pukyu (Lowie Museum, Rowe loan, under site number Ay2-21) we know that it originates in the Ayacucho Basin, because of its resemblance with Huarpa derived styles (such as Chakipampa, Cruz Pata, and Ocros for example) and because of published descriptions of the type (f.i. Lumbreras 1959a:170) or of related face-necks (Menzel 1964:9, 11; Bennett 1953:81).
The main characteristics of this group are the deeply incised eyes and mouth and thick black lashes and/or parallel tear-marks. The head is elongated, with a rounded top, the body is very narrow, often with especially emphasised shoulders and kneecaps. A number of similar specimens are seated, holding a child (figure 4)-
This figurine group bears a marked resemblance with MH1A Chakipampa face-necks (Stierlin 1984: number 131), whereas there is no visible Nasca influence. One wonders why the obvious South Coast cultural influences on the highlands at this time should not have extended to figurines. What is certain is 167
that a number of figurines belonging to this group were actually found on the South Coast. There are two documented provenances: one for a specimen in the Uhle collection at Berkeley (number 4-9031a), the other a surface find from W.D. Strong’s exploration at Huaca del Loro (Columbia University, Dept, of Anthropology, material from the “1952-1953 Columbia University Expedition in the river valleys of the lea and the Rio Grande de Nasca in south coastal Peru”).
This group also includes the first examples of “travelling figurines”. One related specimen was found by Bennett in the Callejón de Huaylas (figure 5), in a site below Ichik-Wilkawain (Bennett n.d.:78-80; 1944:48-50). The figurine was associated with domestic refuse containing—besides several examples of Bennett’s “Huari Polychrome” (Bennett 1953:107), which generally date to MH2—an incised brownware fragment (Bennett 1944: figure 10F), which could be MH1. The appliqué head-dress of the Wilkawain specimen is quite common in this group, as it is in other Middle Horizon groups (see below). Three further related specimens2 are said to come from the Huaura Valley on the Central Coast (figure 6). Note the appliqué headdress, the incised eyes and mouth and the shape of the body. A second highland figurine group3, closely related to the former, probably represents a slightly later phase (MH1B?) of the early Ayacucho, Huarpa derived styles (figure 7). Although not all the figurines of this group are of the typical Ocros ware—with its bright orange or yellowish slip4—I suggest that the figurines in this group are related to this style.
The eyes and the mouth are still incised, but the eyelashes are often only painted on the upper lid, and not prolonged to form tear-marks. The more naturalistic shape of the head and the body could indicate a transition towards MH2 figurines (see below). Other details, such as a “feather” headband and horizontal stripes at the back of the head of one specimen (MNAA WO 288) could also point to late MH1B5. A characteristic of this group are the ears which resemble horizontally placed lugs. The same ears/handles feature on an Ocros ware bowl6, allegedly from the Ocros quebrada at the foot of the Huari plateau. This second MH1 figurine group occurs at Ocros (MNAA WO 331; MNAA WO 288), as well as in the Middle Mantaro at the northern edge of the Departamento de Ayacucho (Bonavia 1967-1968:280 and lámina 10,1 and 4), in the vicinity of Nasca7 (LMB 4-8889, collected by Uhle) and at Cerro Baúl in the Moquegua Valley (Lumbreras et al. 1982:4)—that is, in areas in which we could expect to find this group. But an almost identical specimen, now at the Brooklyn Museum (BMNY 43.60), is said to have been found in an abandoned mine in the Cañon del Pato, Callejón de Huaylas8. The circumstantial evidence of the find is detailed enough to suggest its veracity. At some point which probably coincides with the latter part of MH1 and the beginning of MH2, an important change occurs in figurine iconography on the South Coast, as well as in the Ayacucho area9 (figure 8). Its main feature is the appearance of a naturalistic face. We have already seen—in the second group of
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sierra-derived MH1 figurines—that the head shape and the body became more realistic. Now this realism is extended to facial traits (Lumbreras 1959b: lámina VII,J; Lothrop and Mahler 1957: plate X,6). The eyes are modelled, almond or lozenge shaped, with painted white eyeballs and black pupils; the nose not only has nostrils, but also modelled alae and the modelled lips are beautifully curved. Tear marks or face paint can occur.
Beautifully modelled, naturalistic faces first occur on face-necks and head vases in the Robles Moqo style on the South Coast (Menzel 1964:27-28; Milla Batres 1975: F/221; Muelle and Blas 1938: 1 mina 32a) and are a common feature on the double-chambered vessels of the Atareo style (Menzel 1964:49). In the highlands, although this naturalistic face already appears on ceremonial face-necks at Conchopata (Cook 1984-1985: figures 1-4), it seems to feature more commonly on MH2 vessels (Bennett 1953: plate 7f,i,j,m; plate 8,a-e). Lumbreras (1959a: lámina XIV: f and k) illustrates two totally different face necks, both attributed to the MH1 Ocros style, though one (lámina XIV, k) is still firmly Huarpa related, whilst the other (lámina XIV, f) already anticipates the “naturalistic” face.
As far as the figurines in this group are concerned, it is also impossible to assign them more precisely to MH1B or MH2. Several of the South Coast specimens may well be Robles Moqo related, whilst others belong to the Atareo style of MH2A or even 2B. In the Ayacucho basin, Benavides describes a figurine with a realistic face from Cheqo Wasi, Huari, as belonging to the Ocros style (1984:61 and lámina XXII, e), but the context of the find reveals important discrepancies10. Similar figurines were found by Anders at Azángaro (1986:221, 222, figure 6.2b) and in the Moraduchayuc compound at Huari (Brewster-Wray:personal communication). Both are dated with certainty to MH2. Whereas the origin of the earlier groups described is clearly in the Huarpa related styles of the South Central Highlands, the direction of the cultural influences which lead to this new figurine type is much more difficult to determine. A number of isolated iconographic details, such as the treatment of the hands of MNAA 36/75 (Lavalie 1984:133), or the hanks of hair in front of the ear and over the shoulders of PMH 41.52.30/3075 (Lothrop and Mahler 1957: plate X, 6) or hanging down the back (AMNH 41.2.7563) are undoubtedly Nasca in origin. Strong modelled faces—in particular the realistic nose—are a feature of phase IV (“classic Tiahuanaco”) at the type-site itself (Eisleb 1980: numbers 248260; Kolata 1982:13, 27; Posnansky 1957: volume III, plate LXVI B-H). Also, the elongated rectangular ear (Lothrop and Mahler 1957: plate X, 6; MVB VA 34416; Lavalle 1984:133; Lumbreras 1959b: lámina VII, J) features in the highlands (Posnansky 1957: plate LXVI B, 1-2; Anders 1986: figure 7.53a, 7.57a; Bennett 1953: plate 8a, c, e) as well as on a late Nasca stela (MVB VA G 1389).
Although the body shape is closer to the late highland figurines already
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described than to late Nasca figurines, there is also a small group of figurines on the South coast which, to some extent, anticipates the Robles Moqo/Atarco figurines. This appears to be an independent attempt at a new figurine form11 (figure 9 ) with some characteristics such as the thick, cylindrical, diverging legs and airholes on the sides at waist level which are totally untypical of the area. Parallels can be found on the North and Central Coast, though it would be rash to talk of any direct influence. This is one example of the sudden appearance of a new figurine type at this time. A direct link between this very small (probably earlier) group and the classic MH2 group (Robles Moqo derived/Atarco and Highlands MH2) is shown by the black diagonal crosses in square white fields painted on the outside of the leg (MRI DB-10; SAC 441; Lothrop and Mahler 1957: plate X,6; MVB VA 34416). Technologically, the MH2 figurines tend to be hollow—also an innovation in southern Peru. Only a very small number of large Nasca 6-7 figurines are partly hollow12, as are a few of the larger specimens in the second group mentioned above.
The Central Coast If we now move to the Central Coast, the evidence of long range stylistic interplay between Atarco and Pachacamac, outlined by Menzel (1964:46-61) is also reflected in a small, rather heterogeneous group of figurines, a few of them actually found at Pachacamac, others allegedly from the site13 (figure 10). Two other groups of Central Coast MH figurines are of interest in the context examined here, because they illustrate stylistic similarities and/or a distribution linking the Central Coast with the South Central Highlands, the North Highlands and the North Coast respectively. The first group consists of 14 specimens14 (figure 11) whose body shape, decor and appliqué headdress all have parallels in the early MH of the Ayacucho basin. The decorative elements consist of white circles—which may or may not bé outlined in black—with a few black dots, or divided by a cross, with a black dot in each field. These are placed at breast and knee level. Another design element—placed at the waist—consists of parallel wavy black lines and dots on white. All these design elements make their appearance in MH1 (Bennett 1953: figure 20f: Knobloch 1983:51, number 9; 52, number 1; 57, number 9), but survive into MH2 (Bennett 1953: figure 13b; Anders 1986: figure 7.28b, e, h; figure 7.51h) and probably even later, since circular earplugs divided by a cross and bands of zig-zag lines with dots survive into the Late Horizon. Also worth noticing is the appliqué hat on some, but not all of the specimens, sometimes with four “picos” (sometimes with two) and the typical tear-lines which often spill down to the neck. About half of the figurines have an unusual elongated sugar-loaf head, rounded at the top. Finally some of the figurines also have the characteristic Tiahuanaco face mentioned earlier, though others have a pronounced bulbous nose, which only occurs in this group (figure 12).
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Technically, the majority of the figurines are mold-made, an innovation which appears to reach the Central Coast at this time. Mold-made figurines are the rule in the Moche culture, but this technique is first associated with Robles Moqo (MH1) face-vases on the South Coast (Menzel 1964:28). Evidence of the technique also occurs at Huari, probably in MH2 (Lumbreras 1959a:169170).The figurines are only partially hollow, with airholes generally placed below the shoulders, front and back. The most unusual aspect of this group is its ware—which is mainly characterised by an extremely fine pinky buff to light orange paste with no visible temper at all. The paste is soft and chalky, as if it had not been fired or fired at very low temperatures. This also applies to the fugitive slip paint which varies from pale orange to red, and to the decor in black, white and pinky cream. As far as I know no similar ware was produced on the Central Coast itself. The only corresponding ware would be that of the Caja ceramic group, which is centred on Acobamba Province, Departamento de Huancavelica. Although associated with the earliest phase of Huarpa, Caja ceramics probably survived into MH2 (Lumbreras 1959b:81; 1975:93; Benavides 1984:57; Anders 1986:333). Five specimens15 which—on stylistic grounds—have been included in the earliest South Central Highlands/South Coast MH group, are also made in this distinctive ware. Three of these, said to come from the Huacho area, were probably imports.
Stylistically the Central Coast group under scrutiny is related to the Huarpa derived groups by the body shape, particularly the accentuated, sometimes perforated shoulders, by the appliqué hat and the important tear marks, though the facial traits are—on some, but not all specimens—Robles Moqo or Tiahuanaco derived. A very unusual figurine16 (figure IS), related to the early Ayacucho figurines, also incorporates traits in common with this Central Coast group, such as the painted circles on the breasts and appliqué hands with incisions to mark the fingers, which appear on several specimens. However, this figurine shows notable differences with either group, with differences such as the head broadening towards the neck, the mouth indicated by two punctations, the eyes represented by shallow grooves, and the alternating black, white and red bands painted across the arms and the legs. This latter feature anticipates later Central Coast MH groups, so this figurine may well originate from outside the Ayacucho Basin, possibly further north.
In spite of this stylistic similarity with a highland group, 8 out of the 14 figurines have provenances from the Central Coast. Of these, the data for only two (MAI 3349 and PMH 42.12.30/3232) are reliable. The Paramonga figurine was recovered by Yoshitaro Amano, whilst the other was collected by S.K.Lothrop in the Huacho area. Another specimen (MHP 30.19.257)— said to come from Pachacamac—was collected by Capitaine Paul Berthon, who participated in an archaeological mission on the Central Coast in 1907. This attribution also seems fairly reliable—at least as to the general area. Less reliable are the provenances of two specimens from the Berlin museum, originally in the Gretzer collection. One (MVB VA 48859) is allegedly from the vicinity of Lima, the other (MVB VA 39056) from Pachacamac. In both cases the site attributions 171
may well have been given by a curator, who nevertheless had reasons to believe that the pieces came from the Central Coast. A further two specimens (MPCS: unnumbered specimens) were stored in the Museo Peruano de Ciencias de la Salud in Lima with the material excavated by Horkheimer in the Chancay area in 1961. The fact that they bear no numbering may mean that they were surface finds—at any rate they are in a Central Coast collection. One further specimen from the Museo de la UNMSM17 also appears to have been excavated on the Central Coast. In addition to these eight figurines, I was shown a very similar specimen, said to come from the middle Lurin Valley. So, although not one of these figurines comes from a well documented context, we find a certain consensus pointing to the Central Coast.
Surprisingly the only figurine of this type with a documented provenance was found in a cyst grave at Cerro Amaru, near Huamachuco in the Northern Sierra (Topic and Topic 1984: figure lib). Apart from the obvious iconographie similarities, it also has “no visible temper and the paste is quite soft” (Topic and Topic 1984:20)18. In addition to the Cerro Amaru specimen, one figurine at the Peabody Museum (PMH 973.24.30-8899) is said to come from the North Coast, but no circumstantial evidence confirms this attribution. A small number of figurines possibly related to this group were excavated by Meddens in the Chicha/Soras Valley. One figurine (Meddens 1985: figure 85) has a four-picos hat (though not appliqué) and a fairly similar face and body shape, with modelled shoulders. The ware is fine, pale orange in colour, with no visible inclusions. The offering in which this figurine fragment was found is dated to MH2. Another head fragment (Meddens 1985:529) has an elongated sugar-loaf head, typical for about half of the group in question. Here it is decorated with horizontal stripes. The paste is not of the fine texture usual for this group. This fragment has been tentatively dated to MH3-4. The Cerro Amaru grave-lot can be dated to MH1B (Topic and Topic 1984:52) The four carbon dates given for the “mausoleum”—Unit A—range from A.D. 330 to 59019. The authors believe that the actual structure predates the three cyst graves (1984:74-75, 56), whilst the ceramics in Cyst 1 (a Chakipampa B vessel, kaolinite tripod bowls inspired by Cajamarca, two polished blackware effigy jars—one with a four-cornered hat—and the figurine) all date to MH1B. This is a likely date for the group as whole, in view of the resemblance with MH1 type figurines from the Ayacucho area, though there may be a temporal difference between the figurines with appliqué headdresses and those with the sugar-loaf head. The question is: where do these figurines originate and why is there an apparent clustering on the Central Coast? One thing is fairly certain: the group does not originate on the Central Coast, as no stylistic or technological antecedents can be found there. The possible similarity with the Caja ware needs thorough checking, even though the stylistic similarities point to the South Central Highlands. Interestingly, Shady (1982:20) suggests possible influences
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from Huancavelica or the Huanta area at Nieveria in the Rimae Valley, during the transition between MH1A and IB.
Another explanation for the apparent concentration of this figurine type in the area could be linked with Pachacamac, which, as a religious center, perhaps attracted pilgrims. However, to the best of my knowledge no such figurine has ever been excavated at the site itself. This is significant, as we do have a number of well defined figurine groups at Pachacamac—including at least two groups dating to the Middle Horizon.
All we can say for the time being is that we are dealing here with a prestige object, which—to judge from the Cerro Amaru find—played a role in a funerary context and “travelled” considerable distances from its source, which was probably located somewhere in the Central Highlands. The second Central Coast figurine group under scrutiny here is one of the most common amongst Peruvian figurines (figure ). It numbers over 100 specimens20 and points to significant but as yet unexplained links with the North Coast. Its main distribution area is the northern part of the Central Coast, with an important center at Chimú Capac, near Supe. The type also occurs in the Chancay Valley and is common at Ancón. There are no documented finds south of Ancón. The handful of site attributions for the Rimae Valley and Pachacamac cannot be checked, but to the best of my knowledge no figurine of this type was ever found or excavated at Pachacamac. Finally, a small number of figurines were also found at Moche and in the Virú and Santa valleys. The iconographic attributes of this group, in particular the squat shape with completely joined legs, the rounded head with the headdress framing the face and a necklace were not found on the Central Coast prior to the Middle Horizon. They are closely related to Moche style figurines, though, curiously, not to Moche V figurines such as those excavated by Bawden at Galindo (Bawden: personal communication), but to earlier Moche forms and to a later North Coast MH group found in the Moche-Chicama area at Taitacantin, in the Virú Valley (see Bennett 1939: figure 5g) and in the Santa Valley (Wilson 1988: figure 252, lower row).
The hypothesis about links between Supe and the North Coast was examined by Menzel (1977:29ff) on the basis of the material excavated by Uhle at Chimú Capac. According to Menzel the ceramic assemblage contains a number of forms derived directly from the Ayacucho basin, whilst there is relatively little influence from Pachacamac. On the other hand, the presence of press molded pottery and the mythical representations—particularly of the North Coast Moon Animal— show clear links with the North Coast. For Menzel, Chimú Capac functioned as a strategic outpost of the Wari government, designed to curb the growing power of two serious rivals to Wari power, Pachacamac and “an important center of religion and worldly power on the north coast” (1977:31). Menzel adds that the location of such an outpost in the Fortaleza-Pativilca-Supe drainage (rather than further south) was chosen because of the close links between the Chancay valley and Pachacamac (1977:31).
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But the distribution of the Supe-Ancón figurines, with no documented find south of the Chillón river (and none at Pachacamac itself) would point to a different socio-political alignment. Added to the distribution question is also a chronological problem: although some of the figurines in this group may be as early as MH1B, the bulk of the material belongs to MH epochs 3 and 4. Indeed one gravelot association21 shows this figurine-type to be contemporary with Chancay Tricolor. All this raises several questions. Did this figurine type originate through early contacts with the North and survive by its own momentum, or did the contacts themselves continue throughout the Middle Horizon? Which, and where exactly, was the northern power which Chimú Capac was meant to control? Can it still have been the Moche polity, in spite of obvious tensions and changes marking the end of the Early Intermediate Period and the beginning of the Middle Horizon on the North Coast? Or can it have been what Wilson (1988:334) calls the Black-White-Red state, with its postulated capital in the Casma Valley? The sequence of events taking place between phase IV of the Moche culture and the establishment of the Chimu state is, as yet, not clearly understood. The crisis that led to the abandonment of the site of Moche, the transfer of the polity’s capital to Pampa Grande in the Lambayeque Valley and the creation of a regional center at Galindo at the beginning of Moche V has been attributed to a number of causes, such as climatic changes, loss of the southern valleys occupied by Moche (Virú, Santa, Nepeña) and/or conquest by Wari (Moseley and Deeds 1982:38; Topic 1982:281; Bawden 1982:288; Mackey 1982; Shady 1982).
This failure to reconstruct a scenario into which the observed events and changes all fit, also leads to chronological discrepancies. It has even been suggested that there is no real hiatus between the end of the Moche culture and the Early Chimu culture (Donnan and Mackey 1978:213; Bawden 1982:288). At any rate serious problems arise if one tries to correlate the archaeological evidence from the Moche-Chicama valleys with Menzel’s Middle Horizon chronology. “Huari polychrome” ceramics dating to epochs 1 and 2 of the Middle Horizon are minimally represented in the region, whilst the local Huari derived “Redwhite-black pottery”, is already alleged by some archaeologists to be associated with Early Chimu ceramics, therefore dating to the end of the Middle Horizon (Mackey 1982), whilst others place this style, also called “Black-White-Red” in the earliest phases of the Middle Horizon (Wilson 1988:334). Altogether, this scenario in no way explains the clear admixture of Moche style vessels and Moche traits in Huari derived MH2 vessels as far south as Supe (Menzel 1977:32 and figures 50, 51, 53, 54) as well as the absence of typical Red-White-Black pottery at that site. Some kind of contact with the North Coast obviously existed even at this early stage. And since the bulk of the ceramic remains at Supe dates to MH 3 and 4 and the “northern” influence is apparent throughout those phases—even though we may be dealing with local adaptations as in the case of the figurines—the contacts obviously continued throughout the Middle Horizon. This assumption is confirmed by the presence of Moche derived textiles at “El Castillo” near Huarmey during the Middle
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Horizon (see H. Priimers, this volume). Interestingly the influence is directed from the north towards the south, but not vice-versa, since we find so few Supe style figurines on the North Coast.
The North Coast If we now turn our attention to North Coast figurines during the Middle Horizon, we find that here as elsewhere there is a certain break in the tradition.
An important technical change occurs sometime at the beginning of Moche V. This is the shift of airholes from the base or back of mold-made figurines to the neck or upper arms. This position is also predominant in the Supe figurines. It is as yet not clear where this change of technique originates—figurines with lateral airholes occur during the Early Intermediate Period both on the Central Coast and on the North Coast (at Vicús for example). But it is significant that this change in Moche technology occurs after several centuries of stability.
As far as figurine types are concerned, not only are the early Chimu figurines—let alone the later ones—very different from the Moche ones in ware characteristics, manufacturing techniques and iconography, but we also see the brief appearance of a totally unique type22, (figure 15), with widely diverging cylindrical legs and an unusual headdress. Perhaps this figurine represents a “foreign” dignitary? It is not certain whether this group should be assigned to the Red-WhiteBlack (RWB) style which, according to Mackey (1978:18, note 1), corresponds to Larco’s “Huari-Lambayeque” (Larco 1948:45-47) or to the Santa style (Mackey 1978:11 and appendix III); that is, Larco’s “Huari Norteño B”23 (Larco 1948:4042). The two styles are closely related and the figurine sample is small. On the whole, I would opt for the former. Do these figurines constitute a Wari related phenomenon on the North Coast? I suggest they do. Admittedly some designs such as the wave and the step (on the headdress of DNM 0.9506) have their antecedents in Moche. But others, such as the parallel lines at the back of the head (MNAA, unnumbered and MNAA 1-4380), the white rectangle with two black dots and the pointed ears with vertical lines (figure 15) are typical of Wari or Wari derived styles24. As for the cylindrical headdress characteristic for the whole group, it has no antecedents whatsoever in Moche, nor does it survive into Chimu. It only occurs in both the RWB and the Huari Norteño B-Santa pottery styles (though without the lateral protuberances typical of the figurines). Taking all this into consideration, I would suggest that this group, like RWB“Huari-Lambayeque” and Santa-“Hauri Norteño B”, belongs to the latter part of the Middle Horizon. Though these styles incorporate many local traits, they are symptomatic for a moment in time when outside influences from many different areas seem to have inspired local potters. Judging from the variations in shape and decor of these figurines there might be slight temporal or spatial differences within the group itself. However, they are definitely distinct from Early Chimu
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figurines, so that the nomenclature adopted by Donnan and Mackey (1978) for the RWB style, such as “Early Chimu”—no doubt to underline the lack of specific Wari influences in the area—cannot be applied to this group of figurines.
One further North Coast group25 illustrates the wider ranging stylistic interaction typical of the Middle Horizon as well as the difficulty of arriving at an acceptable chronology for the area. This is a heterogeneous group of broad, squat figurines with cylindrical legs and the typical “coma” eye associated with the Sicán style. This latter trait and the fact that two out of the eight specimens were donated to the Hamburg Museum by H.Bruning would point to the Lambayeque area as the origin of this group. However, the only figurine with a documented provenance comes from Grave C in a group of 16 graves excavated by Larco at Pata de Burro in the Chicama Valley and described by Bennett (1939:87-89 and mss Field Notes 1936, vol.II at AMNH). This assemblage, which Bennett sees as one unit, contains RWB-ware, orangeware and quite a high proportion of blackware. On the basis of Bennett’s description alone, Collier (1955:115) suggests with some reservation that this material could be contemporary with the earlier part of the Tomaval period (that is, the Middle Horizon) in Virú, whilst Donnan and Mackey (1978:340)—equally with reservations—think that it may be as late as Middle Chimu.
Curiously enough, the figurine group itself seems to span a long period. The earliest specimen (figure 16), with its “four-pico^” hat and red and black on orange pottery could date to MH2, whilst some other specimens, such as the blackware figurine (figure 17), with its classic Chimu headdress, fits squarely into the Chimu culture. All this suggests that the North Coast also participated in the changes occurring elsewhere at the time, perhaps to a greater degree than some scholars will allow, although the local continuities do remain strong throughout.
But Mackey (1982) is probably correct in stating that the sequence of events on the North Coast cannot be fitted convincingly into Menzel’s MH chronology. Anders’ views (1986:37) that “many of the hybrid styles,...such as Sicán, Huari Norteño B or Early Chimu,...often assigned to post-Wari times [that is, to MH epochs 3 and 4]...would be found to fit temporarily into epoch 2” may be pointing investigations in the right direction. A much closer study of what occurred in the valleys between the Moche-Chicama and Fortaleza-Pativilca drainages at this time may also help in establishing a generally acceptable chronology.
The Middle Horizon was a period of heightened long-range cultural interac tion and the pottery figurines, because of their high degree of stylistic specificity, help to illustrate some of the inter-regional contacts occurring at the time. How ever they do not answer the all important question—whether these contacts were a direct result of a Wari state expansion or whether other phenomena, already perceptible in many areas at the end of the Early Intermediate Period, played a vital role in bringing about the changes which we associate with the Middle Horizon.
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Acknowledgments It would be impossible to list the individual museum curators and personnel who helped me gather the figurine material presented here. To all of them my heart-felt thanks. My thanks also to my supervisor, Dr. Warwick Bray, and my co-editors Dr. Frank Meddens and Michael Czwarno, for many useful suggestions and criticisms. Above all my gratitude goes to my late husband, Hugh Travers Morgan, who took and processed all the photographs for my dissertation and encouraged me in every way.
Abbreviations AMNH American Museum of Natural History, New York. BM The British Museum (Museum of Mankind), London. BMNY The Brooklyn Museum, New York. DNM Danish National Museum, Copenhagen. HMV Hamburgisches Museum für Völkerkunde, Hamburg. LMB R.H. Lowie Museum of Anthropology, University of California, Berkeley. MAI Museum of the American Indian, New York. MAL Museo Amano, Lima. MHP Musée de 1’Homme, Paris. MM The Manchester Museum, Manchester. MNCP Museo Nacional del la Cultura Peruana, Lima. MPCS Museo Peruano de Ciencias de la Salud, Lima. MNAA Museo Nacional de Antropología y Arqueología, Lima. MRI Museo Regional de lea, lea. MVB Museum für Völkerkunde, Berlin. MW Museum für Völkerkunde, Vienna. PCG Private Collection, Geneva. PC2M Private Collection 2, Munich. PC IN Y Private Collection 1, New York. PC2NY Private Collection 2, New York. PMH Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University. Cambridge, Mass. SAC Colección Santiago Agurto Calvo, Lima. SMVM Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde, Munich. UMAAC University Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. Cambridge. UNMSM Museo de la Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Lima. UPMP University of Pennsylvania Museum. Philadelphia.
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End Notes 1 This group, provisionally named Central Highlands-South Coast MH Group 1, includes the following specimens: LMB (Rowe loan) Ay2-21; MNAA 30/783; Benavides 1984: Lámina XXIIg; MNAA 3/6210; MNAA WO/326; MNAA 0227; Kauffmann-Doig 1978:287; PCG, 1 specimen; LMB 4-9031a; PC1NY, 5 specimens; PC2NY, 4 specimens; PC2M, 2 specimens; “Columbia University Archaeology Expedition.. .in South Coastal Peru” (W.D. Strong) Department of Anthropology, Columbia University, New York, 1 specimen; AMNH 41.1.3640; AMNH 41.0.7344-7345; PMH 46.77.30/6212-6214. 2 PHM 46.77.30/6212, 6213 and 6214. 3 This group, provisionally named Central Highlands-South Coast MH Group 2, includes the following figurines: MNAA 3/6213; Lumbreras et al. 1982:4; LMB 4-8889; MNAA WO 330 (a similar piece, MNAA WO 227, is too heavily restored to be considered; MNAA WO 331; MNAA WO 335; MNAA 288; Bird 1962: figure 51c; Bonavia 1967-1968: lámina 10.1; BMNY 43.60; MVV 31201; MNAA 9/6214; Lumbreras 1959b: lámina X, b. 4 According to Lumbreras (1959b:178) an opaque brown slip, or a white slip (1974:138; 1975:95) also occur on Ocros pottery. 5 According to Menzel the “feather” motif occurs in Chakipampa B and continues into Viñaque (1964:17 note 77, 42). The parallel horizontal lines at the back of the head are documented for MH2 (Anders 1986: figure 7.53b), but we also find them on a late Nasca 8 head from Huaca del Loro (“Columbia University Archaeology Expedition.. .in South Coastal Peru” (W.D. Strong) Department of Anthropology, Columbia University, New York, unnumbered specimen) and on Huari Norteño (Santa) figurines (MNAA 1/4380). 6 MNAA 34/888 ' Note that essentially for the first time in South Coast iconography the head is not deformed. This characteristic continues throughout the Atareo style. Unfortunately, I have not been able to corroborate that this trait is actually reflected in the osteological material. 8 See letter of the donor, William Flatow, dated the 26th of March, 1943, in the Brooklyn Museum Archives. 9 This group, provisionally called Central Highlands-South Coast MH Group 3, includes the following specimens: PMH 41.52.30/3075 (Lothrop and Mahler 1957: plate X, b); MVB VA 34416; AMNH 41.2.7563; MAI 19/9243; MNAA 36/75 (Lavalie 1984:133); AMNH 41.0.7348; MM 09707/60; SAC 470; Benavides 1984: lámina XXII, e; Lumbreras 1959b: lámina VII, J; Unpublished specimen from Moraduchayuc, Huari (Brewster-Wray, personal communication); Anders 1986: figure 6.2b. 10 Under lámina XXII, e Benavides (1984:124) gives no fewer than four provenances (Cuadriculas G2, capa D, G3/C, G3/E and Estructura Central Nivel 1), perhaps indicating that several similar figurines were found. If we check the associations of one of these locations, the pottery found in Level 1 of the Central Structure is “Wari Expansivo” [MH2B], “Decadente” [MH3] and “Huamanga”—a ware which spans the period from the Early Intermediate Period to the end of the Middle Horizon (1984:38); a number of fragments belonging to “Wari Clásico” [MH2A] or even “Wari Monumental” [MH1] also come from the same level 1 (1964:122 lámina XV, XVI and 123 lámina XIX). 178
11 There are only two figurines of this type: SAC 441 and MRI DB -10. A large figurine (Royal Scottish Museum (1971): Ancient American Art, number 1898-464) could be related to this group. 12 An exception to this rule are the Nasca 8 “stelas” (Morgan 1988:328-329), which are generally hollow. 13 This group, provisionally called Central Coast MH Group 2, includes the following specimens: UPMP 28438 (excavated at Pachacamac by Uhle); MVB VA 39051; MVB VA 39052; AMNH B 503? (there are discrepancies between the numbering and the catalogue entries for B 503, 504 and 506, two of which are damaged and appear to be vessels rather than figurines, but all three were excavated or found by Bandelier at Pachacamac); Lapiner 1976: plate 530; BM 1954 W AM 5-140. 14 This group, provisionally named Central Coast MH Group 1, includes the following specimens: MAL 3349; MNAA 45240; MHP 30.19.257; MVB VA 39056; Topic and Topic 1984: figure lib; PMH 973.24.30/8899; MPCS, 2 unnumbered specimens; SAC 407; PMH 42.12.30/3232; SAC 351; UNMSM 2179; MVB VA 48859; MNAA 45241. 15 AMNH 41.0.7344 and 7345; PMH 46.77.30/6212-6214. 16 UMAAC 59.403. 17 UNMSM 2179. The specimen bears the inscription “U” No. 67 “Andoy”. I was told that this was an hacienda near Lima, but was unable to locate it. The specimen also bears a second inscription: A2-302./1.15779. This lettering usually indicates specimens excavated at Ancón. 18 The authors agree (personal communication) that the alleged similarity with the Wari figurine published by Kauffmann-Doig (1978:287) stated in their conclusions (Topic and Topic 1984:52) is much less obvious than with the group described here. 19 1620T105 BP to 1360±65 BP. 20 All the specimens included in this group, provisionally named North and Central Coast MH Group 3, cannot be listed here. Published figurines include Donnan and Mackey 1978:273A, B, C and 287A, all listed as “Early Chimu”; Haas 1986: numbers 102, 103; Kroeber 1925a: plate 64g, 1925b: plate 76a-c; Putnam 1914: plate XIX, 14; Strong 1925: plate 49g. 21 MNCP numbers A1/P.8149/T.619 and MNCP A1/P.8150/T.619. 22 This group, provisionally called North Coast MH Group 1, includes the following specimens: MNAA 1/4380 and 1 unnumbered specimen; MAL 961; DNM 0.9506; AMNH B 4077. 23 Larco’s Huari Norteño A correspondes to the above-mentioned “Huari Polychrome” (Larco 1948:37-40). His Huari Norteño B (1948:40-42) is also called “Santa” by Lumbreras (1974:173), after Tello. Larco (1966:109-111) uses the name “Santa”—more appropriately, it would seem—to designate the Recuay culture. 24 The parallel lines already occur at Huaca del Loro on a very late Nasca-related head fragment (W.D. Strong material at Columbia University, Department of Anthropology), on one of the very early Ayacucho figurines (MNAA WO 288), at Azángaro (Anders 1986: figure 7.53b) and on late Pachacamac figurines. The white rectangle with two black dots is very common on Atarco-related vessels 179
(for instance, Larco 1966: figura 88). The pointed ears with vertical lines are very frequent on the Supe-type figurines. 25 This group, provisionally named North Coast MH-Chimu includes the following figurines: HMV 29.36.100 and 33.180.7; MNAA 1/1207; Bennett, mss Field Notes 1936/11, Pata de Burro, Grave C at AMNH; PCM1, unnumbered specimen; SMVM Gi 46; MAL 328; MSCh 2870.
Bibliography Anders, M.B. 1986 Dual organization and calendars inferred from the planned site of Azángaro: Wari administrative strategies. Ph.D. dissertation, Cornell University. Bawden, G. 1982 Galindo: a study in cultural transition during the Middle Horizon. In Chan Chan: Andean Desert City, edited by M.E. Moseley and K.C. Day, pp.285-320. University of New Mexico Press, Albuquerque. Benavides Calle, M. 1984 Carácter del estado Wari. Universidad Nacional de San Cristóbal de Huamanga, Ayacucho. Bennett, W.C. n.d. Mss Field Notes, 1936 vol.2, held at AMNH, New York. 1939 Archaeology of the North Coast of Peru. An Account of Exploration and Excavation in Viru and Lambayeque Valleys. American Museum of Natural History, Anthropological Paper 37(1). 1944 The North Highlands of Peru. Excavations in the Callejón de Huaylas and at Chavin de Huantar. American Museum of Natural History, Anthropological Paper 39(1).
1953 Excavations at Wari, Ayacucho, Peru. Yale University Publications in Anthropology 49. Bird, J.B. 1962 Art and life in old Peru: an exhibition. Curator 5(2):147-210.
Bonavia, D. 1967-1968 Investigaciones arqueológicas en el Mantaro Medio. Revista del Museo Nacional 35:211-294.
Collier, D. 1955 Cultural chronology and change as reflected in the ceramics of the Viru Valley, Peru. Fieldiana: Anthropology 23. Cook, A. 1984-1985 The Middle Horizon ceramic offerings from Conchopata. Nawpa Pacha 22-23:49-90.
Donnan, C. B. and C. Mackey 1978 Ancient burial patterns of the Moche Valley, Peru. University of Texas Press, Austin. 180
Eisieb, D. 1980 Altperuanische Kulturen III: Tiahuanaco. Veröffentlichungen des Muse ums für Völkerkunde Berlin, NF 38. Abteilung Amerikanische Archäo logie V. Museum für Völkerkunde, Berlin.
Haas, R. 1986 Keramikfunde aus Ancón, Peru. Die Tonobjekte der Sammlung Reiss und Stübel im Museum für Völkerkunde Berlin. Indiana Beiheft 11. Berlin. Kauffmann-Doig, F. 1978 Manuel de Arqueología Peruana. 6th edition. Lima. Knobloch, P.J. 1983 A Study of the Andean Huari Ceramics from the Early Intermediate Period to the Middle Horizon Epoch 1. Ph.D. dissertation, State University of New York at Binghamton.
Kolata, A. 1982 Tiwanaku, portrait of an Andean civilization. Field Museum of Natural History Bulletin 53(8): 13-28. Kroeber, A.L. 1925a The Uhle pottery collections from Moche. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 21(5).
1925b The Uhle pottery collections from Supe. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 21(6). Lapiner, A.C. 1976 Pre-Columbian Art of South America. New York.
Larco Hoyle, R. 1948 Cronología Arqueológica del Norte del Perú. Buenos Aires. 1966 Perú. Arqueología Mundi. Barcelona. Lavalle, J.A. 1984 Culturas Precolombinas: Huari. Collección Arte y Tesoros del Perú, Banco de Crédito del Perú en la Cultura, Lima. Lothrop, S.K. and J. Mahler 1957 Late Nasca burials at Chaviña, Peru. Papers of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University 50(2).
Lumbreras, L.G. 1959a La cultura de Wari, Ayacucho. Etnología y Arqueología 1:130-227. UNMSM,Lima.
1959b Esquema arqueológico de la Sierra Central del Perú. Revista del Museo Nacional 26:64-117. Lima.
1974 The Peoples and Cultures of Ancient Peru. Translated by B.J. Meggers. Smithsonian Press, Washington, D.C. 1975 Las Fundaciones de Huamanga. Lima. Lumbreras, L.G., E. Mujica and R. Vera 1982 Cerro Baúl: un enclave Wari en territorio Tiwanaku. Gaceta Arqueológica Andina l(2):4-5. 181
Mackey, C.J. 1978 Diagnostics of Chimu Red White Black ceramics: a Middle Horizon, North Coast style. Paper presented at the 43rd Annual Meeting, Society for American Archaeology, Tucson, Arizon. 1982 The Middle Horizon as viewed from the Moche Valley. In Chan Chan: Andean Desert City, edited by M.E. Moseley and K.C. Day, pp.321331. University of New Mexico Press, Albuquerque.
Meddens, F. 1985 The Chicha/Soras Valley during the Middle Horizon; Provincial Aspects of Huari. Ph.D. dissertation, Institute of Archaeology, University of London.
Menzel, D. 1964 Style and Time in the Middle Horizon. Nawpa Pacha 2:1-106. 1977 The Archaeology of Peru and the Work of Max Uhle. R.H. Lowie Museum of Anthropology, University of California, Berkeley.
Milla Batres, C. (editor) 1975 Guia para museos de arqueología peruana. Lima.
Morgan, A. 1988 The master or mother of fishes: an interpretation of Nasca pottery figurines and their symbolism. In Recent Studies in Precolumbian Archaeology, edited by N.J. Saunders and O. de Montmollin. BAR International Series 421:327-361. Moseley, M.E. and E.E. Deeds 1982 The land in front of Chan Chan: agrarian expansion, reform, and collapse in the Moche Valley. In Chan Chan: Andean Desert City, edited by M.E. Moseley and K.C. Day, pp.25-53. University of New Mexico Press, Albuquerque.
Muelle, J.C. and C. Blas 1938 Muestrario de Arte Peruano Precolombino. Lima. Posnansky, A. 1957 Tihuanacu - The Cradle of American Man. Volume III and IV. La Paz.
Putnam, E.K. 1914 The Davenport Collection of Nazca and other pottery. Proceedings of the Davenport Academy of Science 13:17-46. Shady Solis, R. 1982 La cultura Nievería y la interacción social en el mundo andino en la época Huari. Arqueológicas 19:5-108. Stierlin, H. 1983 L’Art Inca et ses origines. Fribourg. Strong, W.D. 1925 The Uhle pottery collections from Ancón. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 21(4):135-190. 182
Topic, J.R. and T.L. Topic 1984 Huamachuco Archaeological Project. Preliminary Report on the third season, June-August 1983. Trent University Occasional Papers in Anthropology 1. Peterborough, Ontario. Topic, T.L. 1982 The Early Intermediate Period and its legacy. In Chan Chan: Andean Desert City, edited by M.E. Moseley and K.C. Day, pp.255-284. University of New Mexico Press, Albuquerque. Wilson. D.J. 1988 Prehispanic Settlement Patterns in the Lower Santa Valley, Peru. A Regional Perspective on the Origins and Development of Complex North Coast Society. Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington D.C.
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2
Figure 1: Late Nasca figurine, provenance unknown (MNAA 42028).
Figure 2: Late Nasca “stela”, alleged provenance Rio Grande, Nasca (3/6914).
Figure 3: Early Middle Horizon (MH1A) Central Highlands-South Coast figurine, alleged provenance lea
(PC1NY, unnumbered).
Figure 4: Early Middle Horizon (MH1A) Central Highlands-South Coast figurine, alleged provenace lea
(PC1NY, unnumbered).
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8
Figure 5: Early Middle Horizon (MH1A?) figurine from Wilkawaín, Callejón de Huaylas (AMNH 41.1.3640).
Figure 6: Early Middle Horizon (MH1A?) figurine, alleged provenance Huacho, Central Coast (PMH 46.77.30/6212).
Figure 7: Early Middle Horizon (MH1B?) from the vicinity of Nazca (LMB 4-8889). Figure 8: Middle Horizon (MH2) Central HighlandsSouth Coast (“Atareo”) figurine, provenance unknown (MNAA 36/75).
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9
Figure 9: Early Middle Horizon South Coast figurine, provenance unknown (SAC 441).
Figure 10: Middle Horizon (MH2) Central Coast fig urine, alleged provenance Pachacamac (MVB VA 39051).
Figure 11: Early Middle Horizon (MH1B?) Central Coast figurine, alleged provenance Pachacamac (MVB VA 39056). Figure 12: Early Middle Horizon (MH1B?) Central Coast figurine, alleged provenance Pachacamac (MHP 30.19.257).
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13
15
Figure 14: Middle Horizon (MH1B to MH4?) North and Central Coast figurine from Lauri, Chancay Valley (MFCS La V/3/VI).
Figure 15: Late Middle Horizon (MH3-4?) North Coast figurine, provenance unknown (MAL 961).
Figure 16: Middle Horizon North Coast figurine, provenance unknown but probably from the Lambayeque area (HMV 29.36:100). Figure 17: Chimu figurine, provenance unknown, but probably from the Lambayeque area (HMV 33.180:7).
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Tejidos del Horizonte Medio del Valle de Huarmey Heiko PrümersJ
En esta ponencia quiero presentar los primeros resultados de un estudio que se concentra en un grupo de aproximadamente 500 tejidos del Horizonte Medio, los cuales fueron en parte recolectados en la superficie por Ubbelohde-Doering en el año de 19631 y en parte por mi en los años 1985-1986. Todos los tejidos provienen de un solo sitio en el Valle de Huarmey conocido por los lugareños como “El Castillo”. Aunque el sitio fue visitado y descrito brevemente por varios arqueólogos (Bonavia 1982:439; Ishida 1960:202,449; Horkheimer 1965:37-38; Tabío 1977:120-121) la información que nos dan esos autores es sumamente pobre. Ya que el sitio es poco conocido, creo conveniente hacer una breve referencia.
El sitio ”E1 Castillo” El sitio está ubicado 11 km al este del pueblo actual de Huarmey (figura 1). Su rica arquitectura de adobes y en parte también de piedras cubre un pequeño promontorio rocoso que está rodeado por campos cultivados. El sitio ha sido huaqueado intensamente resultando en la destrucción casi completa del conjunto arquitectónico. No obstante se puede observar en la cima del sitio una serie de pequeños cuartos de diversos tamaños, muchos de ellos con paredes enlucidas y pintadas en blanco y en rojo. Dentro de muchos de esos cuartos y en pequeños nichos instalados en sus paredes se encontraron un gran número de enterramientos saqueados por los huaqueros. Los artefactos despreciados por los huaqueros indican que esas tumbas han sido excepcionalmente “ricas”. El cambio de orientación de algunas de las paredes así como remodelaciones y superposiciones indican que hubo diferentes fases de construcción. Por contar sólo con un permiso para llevar a cabo un reconocimiento no pude efectuar trabajos de limpieza en el sitio los cuales - quizás - hubieran revelado datos acerca de la duración de cada una de esas fases.
La cerámica encontrada en el sitio puede ser asignada tentativamente a cinco grupos principales: 1: Cerámica Huari estilo Pachacamac, fechable al Horizonte Medio 2B según Menzel (1964, 1977). Entre las formas predominan vasos, botellas y vasijas con doble pico. í Seminar für Völkerkunde, Universität Bonn 188
(Basado en: Bonavla (982:mapa 4)
Figura 1:
Mapa de la parte baja del valle de Huarmey.
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2: Cerámica roja con diseños estampados, que según la cronología de Menzel (1964, 1977) pertenecería al Horizonte Medio 3. Predominan los platos, pero también hay un número considerable de botellas y pequeñas ollas. 3: Cerámica con diseños estampados que se distingue de la del grupo anterior únicamente por su cocción reducida o sea su color negro.
4: Cerámica utilitaria (?) sin decoración, con un color que varía entre un rojo amarillento y rojo ladrillo. Aunque en este grupo también hay un gran número de platos, la variedad de formas es mucho mayor que la de los grupos anteriores.
5: Cerámica de diferentes estilos que aparecen en cantidades muy pequeñas como cerámica Moche, cerámica de caolín estilo Cajamarca Cursivo, cerámica Nazca 9 y algunos fragmentos cuya procedencia y relación estilística no se ha podido determinar hasta ahora. Resumiendo se puede decir que el sitio estuvo ocupado durante las fases 1-3 del Horizonte Medio teniendo su auge probablemente en la fase 2 del mismo período. Tanto por su patrón arquitectónico como por la riqueza de los enterramientos saqueados por los huaqueros representa un sitio excepcional que no tiene igual en todo el valle.
Los tejidos Técnicas Como se puede ver en la figura 2a el material textil encontrado en el “Castillo” de Huarmey presenta un gran número de diferentes técnicas textiles. Entre las más frecuentes figuran el kelim y la tela llana, siendo la última la que con más frecuencia se encuentra en el sitio. El hecho de que solamente el 29.5% de los tejidos estudiados están hechos en tela llana se explica por la preferencia que se dio a los tejidos decorados al hacer la recolección en el sitio. La relativa frecuencia de las demás técnicas textiles, sin embargo, debe ser significativa. - No es éste el lugar para entrar en detalles técnicos asi que solamente voy a resumir los resultados obtenidos del análisis de las técnicas textiles. Esos resultados permiten distinguir la presencia o influencia de por lo menos cuatro “culturas”:
1) Moche. La gran mayoría de los tejidos encontrados en el “Castillo” están hechos en técnicas textiles que fueron identificadas por Conklin (1979) como típicas de la cultura Moche. Esas técnicas incluyen la preferencia de hilos de algodón hilados en S, el delineamiento de los motivos con tramas de color contrastante en los tejidos kelim, la decoración con tramas suplementarias discontinuas de lana sobre pares de urdimbres flotantes en telas dobles y el uso de la técnica de enrollar tramas sobre urdimbres rígidas para decorar peines o “canastas de trabajo”. Los tejidos por su iconografía pertenecen al Horizonte Medio razón por la cual de aquí en adelante los llamaré “Moche-Huari” siguiendo la terminología usual. 190
Porcentajes de las Técnicas Textiles "El Castillo" (PV 35-79)
otros (0.7%)
tela doble (6.8%) wicker weave (2.6%) patchwork/tela Ilana (4.9%)
kelim (30.7%)
teen, de urdimbre (4.8%) teen. de trama (0.9%)
rep de urdimbre (5.5%)
rep de trama (7.0%)
aza (1.0%) tela Hana con , "modular weft bands" (5.o%J
twill (0.2%) tela Hana (29.5%) Fig.
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2) Huari. Se han encontrado unos 25 fragmentos de tejidos kelim con características que son conocidas como típicas de tejidos “clásicos” Huari (Bird y Skinner 1974; Eisleb y Strelow 1980; Stone 1987)(algunas de las piezas están ilustradas en la figura 4). Los fragmentos encontrados por lo general no son muy grandes pero permiten apreciar que se trata de piezas sumamente finas con hasta 120 tramas en cada 1 cm2.
3) Nazca. Hay dos fragmentos posiblemente de un solo tejido hechos en rep de trama y bordados enteramente en “loop stitch”. La técnica consistente en cubrir toda la superficie de un tejido con bordado en “loop stitch” es exclusiva de la costa sur y por el diseño creado en esa técnica los fragmentos se pueden fechar a la fase 9 de la cultura Nazca (figura 3).
Figura 3: Fragmento de un tejido Nazca 9 encontrado en “El Castillo de Huarmey.
4) Lambayeque. Hay un tejido kelim que difiere en algunos aspectos de los tejidos de los grupos anteriores. Es de textura más gruesa, en muchas partes no se utilizaron las técnicas adecuadas para impedir las aperturas las cuales aparecen en los tejidos kelim al cambiar el color de la trama y los colores usados difieren de los grupos anteriores. Las características técnicas no permiten adscribir el tejido a una cultura particular pero si el diseño (figura 5). Este se encuentra con frecuencia en forma idéntica en tejidos del estilo Sicán al cual según mi opinión también se puede adscribir este tejido.
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Figura 4; Fragmentos de tejidos “clásicos” Huari encontrados en “El Castillo” de Huarmey.
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O
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Figura 5;
Fragmento de un tejido con diseños del estilo Sicán encontrados en “El Castillo de Huarmey.
Iconografía
Los siguientes comentarios acerca de la iconografía se limitan exclusivamente a los tejidos “Moche-Huari” que son los de mayor interés para este simposio. Aunque soy consciente de que no todos los motivos representados en ellos pertenecen a la misma fase del Horizonte Medio no voy a intentar aquí una clasificación cronológica. El único propósito de lo que sigue es el de dar una idea de los motivos más característicos y describir brevemente su disposición en los tejidos. Se espera llegar así a una definición de estilo que servirá como marco de referencia para el estudio de los tejidos “Moche-Huari”. Antes de presentar los motivos seleccionados uno por uno es importante hacer énfasis en que contamos solamente con pocos tejidos completos. La mayoría de los fragmentos encontrados son ribetes/pasamanos decorativos que estaban cosidos en los bordes inferiores y los bordes de las mangas de grandes camisas de tela llana. Esas camisas además estaban decoradas con dos grandes aplicaciones puestas en el centro de cada lado de la camisa debajo de la apertura dejada para la cabeza (figura á). Ese patrón decorativo que está representado en varias piezas cerámicas Moche contrasta con lo que conocemos de las camisas Huari. En estas últimas, los motivos están ordenados en bandas verticales y separados por rayas unicolores. Además de los fragmentos de ribetes y aplicaciones los únicos
194
tejidos que permiten determinar su antigua función son unas pocas bolsas y algunas cintas decorativas.
Figura 6:
Esquema de la disposición de las zonas decorativas en las camisas
“Moche-Huari”.
Los motivos La cantidad de diferentes motivos representados en los tejidos “Moche-Huari” del “Castillo” es asombrosa. Sin embargo hay una serie de motivos laterales que por su frecuente uso junto con los diversos motivos principales demuestran la unidad del estilo. A esos motivos laterales se los ha designado aquí con números romanos, mientras que los motivos principales se han designado con letras. En el diagrama que aparece en la figura 2b se puede ver cuales de los motivos aparecen juntos. Llama la atención que los motivos principales aparecen raras veces junto a otros motivos principales mientras que a menudo están combinados con los motivos laterales. Al discutir los murales de la Huaca Mayanga (Ruaca Facho) Donnan ha planteado la hipótesis de que la influencia Huari causó el cambio en el arte Moche de escenas complejas a figuras independientes las cuales están “encajadas” en campos decorativos cuadrados (Donnan 1972:93). Esa hipótesis parece confirmarse por el patrón decorativo de los tejidos “Moche-Huari” del “Castillo”.
195
a: Los motivos laterales Motivo I: Una línea en zig-zag que aparece con frecuencia en los bordes inferiores de los ribetes (figura 7).
/www\ Figura 7: Motivo I
Motivo II: Una fila de cabezas estilizadas de aves. Este motivo se encuentra tanto en la cerámica Moche como en la cerámica estampada del “Castillo”. Aparece también en los tejidos del Horizonte Medio 3 o 4 de Pachacamac y Garagay (VanStan 1967: Figuras 70a, 71c,d; Engelstad 1982: Lámina 2:6; Eisleb y Strelow 1980: figuras 359, 360, 362, 363, 366-368, 33&)(figura 8fi
Figura 8: Motivo II
Motivo III: Una fila de ganchos geométricos que salen de bases triangulares las cuales están escalonadas en un lado. En las bases aparecen con frecuencia pequeños cuadrados (figura 5).
Figura 9: Motivo III
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Figura 10: Motivo IV Motivo IV: Una fila de triángulos escalonados en un lado (figura 10). Motivo V: Cabezas estilizadas de animales puestos en fila. Este motivo que aparece exclusivamente en los bordes de los tejidos a veces está hecho en técnica de calado (figura 11).
Figura 11: Motivo V Motivo VI: Zonas decorativas con pequeñas aperturas hechas en técnica de calado (“openwork”). Aunque ésa en realidad es una técnica textil la he subsumido aquí a los motivos laterales por el hecho de que únicamente cumple fines estéticos y se usa para separar los motivos principales representados en las telas (figura 12).
Figura 12: Motivo VI
Motivos principales
Motivo A: Ave estilizada representada de perfil. Tiene un brazo y a veces también una pierna estando la última normalmente sustituida por dos apéndices que suben hacia arriba. Del cuerpo corto sale un ala triangular. Sobre el pico se 197
encuentra un elemento triangular, que parece representar la parte carnosa típica de los cóndores. Ese motivo parece copiar las representaciones del “PachacamacGriffin” tan frecuentes en la cerámica Huari del estilo Pachacamac B (Menzel 1964:60-61). Es el único motivo de los tejidos “Moche-Huari” del “Castillo” conocidos hasta ahora que tiene “raices” Huari (figura 13).
0
5
MNAA 03567
Figura 13: Motivo A
Motivo B: Felino con el cuerpo representado de perfil y la cabeza de frente. Tiene orejas grandes, dos patas que van hacia adelante y una cola larga curva levantada hacia atrás (figura 14) (compáre con Menzel 1977: figura 76B).
Figura 14: Motivo B
Motivo C: Ser alado no identificado hasta ahora con cabeza pequeña redondeada, boca abierta, una o dos patas y un ala grande vertical de la misma altura que la figura misma (figura 15).
Motivo D: Felino sentado visto de perfil con tocado trapezoidal, hacha con manga en la pata delantera, cola larga enrollada, collar de tres “perlas” y un “bocadillo” que sale de la boca (figura 16). Es interesante la posición de las patas delanteras que quizás en busca de una simetría del diseño están representadas detras del 198
10cm
Figura 15: Motivo C
cuerpo. La forma de la cabeza es típica de la fase 3 del Horizonte Medio y aparece frecuentemente en la cerámica polícroma de esa fase en Huarmey (compárese con el motivo de la cinta de un tejido publicado por Conklin 1979:176-177). Motivo E: Ser antropomorfo representado de frente. Los brazos y las piernas terminan en cabezas de serpiente-felino igual que los apéndices que le caen de la cintura y que salen del tocado. En el centro del tocado se encuentra un elemento en forma de “T”. Los ojos están “alados” y tienen lagrimales. La boca está dividida en pequeños rectángulos que representan los dientes y en la comisura bucal aparecen colmillos. Lleva grandes orejeras y una nariguera. En el hombro aparece una pequeña ala. Los espacios dejados por los apéndices están rellenados con representaciones de “ayudantes” vistos de perfil (figura 17).
Motivo F: Ser mítico antropomorfo representado de perfil con cabeza de felino (?). De la boca sale una lengua (?) bifurcada. Lleva una cabeza trofeo en la mano delantera y en la otra mano, que está levantada hacia atrás, un cuchillo (tumi). Está vestido con una camisa que termina en una faja larga que le cae de la espalda y sube hacia atrás. Esa faja está llena con representaciones estilizadas de peces (?) y rodeada de elementos que podrían ser aletas o alas (figura 18). En el grán mural de la Huaca Pintada (Lambayeque) se encuentra la parte inferior de una representación muy similar (Bonavia 1985:104-109, figura 75). Motivo G: Ser antropomorfo representado de perfil. Tiene una cabeza humana con nariz prominente, ojos romboidales y boca rectangular de la cual sale un 199
Figura 16î
Motivo D
“bocadillo”. Solamente tiene un brazo y una pierna y lleva en la mano un palo “aserrado”. La pierna termina en una garra que es típica de representaciones de felinos. Por la parte delantera salen del cuerpo un apéndice que termina en cabeza de serpiente-felino y una cola levantada y enrollada. Sobre la cabeza lleva un gran tocado en cuyo centro aparece el motivo H rodeado por cabezas de felino y plumas (?) estilizadas (figura 19).
Motivo H: Ser mítico visto de perfil con dos estremidades, cabeza achatada y una larga “aleta” o “ala” vertical que es muy similar al “ala” de los seres del motivo C (figura 20). Al publicar una bolsa encontrada en una tumba Moche III de la Huaca del Sol en la cual aparece este motivo en forma casi idéntica Conklin y Versteylen lo interpretan como pescado (Conklin y Versteylen 1978:392-395; Conklin 1979:169-170).
10cm
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Figura 20:
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Motivo H
Figura 17: Motivo E
Motivo J: Hombre representado de perfil que lleva en las manos levantadas a ambos lados del cuerpo palos “aserrados” (flechas?). Tiene un tocado muy bajo de forma alargada que sobresale de la cabeza por la frente (figura 21).
HuP41a
Figura 21: Motivo J
201
MBCRP A.TE. 3493
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Parte del gran mural de la Huaca Pintada (tomado de Bonavia 1985:Fig.75)
Figura 18: Motivo F
Figura 19: Motivo G
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Motivo K: Seres antropomorfos representados de perfil que llevan en una mano una copa de la cual sale un elemento no identificado hasta ahora de base redondeada con un “pico” que enseña en direción a la persona que carga la copa. Los objetos llevados en la otra mano difieren de representación a representación pero casi siempre son armas (porras, escudos) (figura 22). También las representaciones de los seres antropomorfos difieren mucho y solamente se han juntado aquí por la copa que llevan y que parece relacionarlos con la “escena de presentación” que según ha mostrado Donnan es uno de los motivos principales de la iconografía mochica (Donnan 1978:158-173). Representaciones similares aparecen en el gran mural de la Huaca Pintada2 (Lambayeque) (Bonavia 1985: figuras 75 y 76, Placa 20) y en los murales de La Mayanga/Huaca Facho (Lambayeque) (Donnan 1972:86; Bonavia 1985: figuras 73 y 74).
(según Donnan 1978:fig.35)
(según Cisneros Velarde &
Lumbreras 1980:Lam.I) (según Conklin 1979:fig.l8)
Figura 22: Motivo K
Motivo L: Hombre de frente con las manos levantadas. La cabeza es casi cuadrada, el cuerpo chato y las piernas están abiertas con los pies enseñando hacia los lados. En la cabeza lleva un tocado relativamente plano del cual salen dos grupos de apéndices. En algunos casos lleva bastones en las manos levantadas, en otros casos las manos están vacías y solamente tienen tres dedos (figura 23). Motivo M: Dos seres antropomorfos representados en perfil que aparecen en acción de combate. Los dos son idénticos el uno al otro. Aparecen vestidos de cinturones que caen hacia atrás terminando en cabezas de serpiente-felino y con tocados rectangulares de los cuales sale una cabeza de serpiente-felino o un objeto no identificado hacia atrás y unos apéndices muy largos que también terminan en cabezas de serpiente-felino hacia adelante. Esos últimos apéndices pueden ser interpretados como el pelo de los dos combatientes que es agarrado por el adversario con la mano delantera. En la mano trasera que está levantada a la altura de la cabeza tienen un cuchillo (tumi) con el cual parecen amenazar al adversario (figura 24). Ese motivo se encuentra frecuentemente en la cerámica estampada del Horizonte Medio 3 de la costa Nor-Central y ha sido descrito en detalle por Carrión Cachot (1959:111-113) que llama a los seres antropomorfos “agentes sacrificadores”. Pero también se encuentra en una pintura mural Moche de Pañamarca (mural A) (Bonavia 1985:70-71, figuras 31-32).
203
Figura 23:
Motivo L
Motivo N: Cabezas sueltas representadas de frente con boca y nariz rectangular, orejas (orejeras?) grandes cuadradas y ojos cuadrados o trapezoidales. Llevan un tocado bajo rectangular del cual en algunos casos salen por los lados apéndices que terminan hacia abajo en cabezas de serpiente-felino (figura 25).
Figura 25:
Motivo N
Motivo 0: Cangrejo visto desde arriba con tijeras grandes (figura 2£)(compara con Conklin 1979: figuras 20 y 21).
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Cerámica estampada, MH 3
Mural de Pañamarca (de Bonavia 1985:fig.32)
Figura 24: 205
Motivo M
HuC 1-la
Figura 26:
Motivo O
(según Burgos & Catullo 1927:fig36)
(según Anton 1984:fig.U3)
10cm
Figura 27:
Motivo P
Motivo P: Ave que parece vista desde arriba con cabeza trapezoidal y las alas abiertas. El “pico” está abierto y enseña hacia arriba (figura 27). Motivo Q: “Octógono radiado” que encierra un campo decorativo. Está formado por 16 cabezas de serpiente-felino y cuatro cabezas de miriópodos, dispuestos los últimos en los cuatro ángulos del campo decorativo casi cuadrado que llena el motivo gracias al tamaño diferente de las cabezas (figura 28). Motivo R: Flor estilizada de ocho pétalos (figura 29).
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ÎSŒSBiOZCIZO
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Figura 28: Motivo Q
Figura 29: Motivo R
Motivo S: Felino sentado visto de perfil. Tiene una cola larga enrollada que sube por el lomo, dos garras puestas hacia adelante, una boca abierta rectangular que deja ver la lengua, dos pequeños apéndices encima de la boca, una oreja grande, ojos trapezoidales y “manchas de felino” trapezoidales y cuadrados (Jigura 30).
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HuP 29 HuP 60
Figura 30:
Motivo S
Motivo T: Cabeza de un animal visto desde arriba que por sus apéndices triangulares que le salen de la frente ha sido identificado como raya (figura SI )(Bolz 1960). Es un motivo frecuente en la iconografía Moche pero también aparece en tejidos del Horizonte Medio 3-4 de la Costa Central (VanStan 1967: figuras 27, 28, 52e, 55; Engelstad 1982: Láminas 2:7, 3:8, 10, 12).
HuP 23b
HuP 14
Figura 31:
Motivo T
Motivo U: Cuatro cabezas de animales muy estilizadas de forma trapezoidal escalonada que parten de un centro común a los cuatro lados opuestos (figura
208
Figura 32: Motivo U
32). Este motivo también se encuentra en tejidos del Horizonte Medio 3-4 de la Costa Central (VanStan 1967: figura 70a; Engelstad 1982: Laminas 3:11, 5:27).
Motivo W: Representación muy estilizada que ha sido interpretada como la de un ave de rapiña de perfil (figura 33) (Eisleb y Strelow 1980:157—158, figura 381).
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n i—i i—i
i
'i
Figura 33: Motivo W
Resumiendo se puede decir que los tejidos “Moche-Huari” del sitio “El Castillo” de Huarmey siguen, en lo que se refiere a las técnicas y a los conceptos
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espirituales reflejados en los seres míticos representados, la tradición Moche. La influencia Huari en esos tejidos se hace sentir únicamente en las representaciones del “Pachacamac-Griffin” y en la fuerte geometrización de los diseños en general. Es importante hacer énfasis en que esa geometrización no es característica del arte textil. Tejiendo se puede lograr perfectamente diseños curvilineos y hay suficientes evidencias para constatar que los tejedores Moche sabían hacerlo. Si los tejidos “Moche-Huari” tienen diseños tán geométricos y rectangulares es por razones estéticas propias de la cultura que los creó.
Discusión Los tejidos y los otros materiales arqueológicos encontrados en el “Castillo” de Huarmey plantean una serie de preguntas y hacen necesario reconsiderar la relación entre las culturas Moche y Huari:
- Se han encontrado en el sitio cientos de tejidos “Moche-Huari” pero tan solo unos 3 fragmentos de cerámica Moche. ¿A qué se debe la ausencia de la cerámica Moche en el sitio? En otros sitios del valle sí se han hallado ciertas cantidades de cerámica Moche de las fases III y V (Bonavia 1982:424; Tabío 1977:130-131) aunque en ningún momento se la podría llamar un tipo de cerámica común en el valle (compare Thompson 1966:544). Como casi no la hay en el “Castillo” se plantea la pregunta: ¿Con qué cerámica estaban asociados los tejidos? En algunos casos seguramente con cerámica “clásica” Huari pero teniendo en cuenta que la cerámica estampada es la más frecuente en el sitio bien podría haber sido asociada a las telas “Moche-Huari”. Eso implicaría que o los tejidos “MocheHuari” datan por lo menos en parte al Horizonte Medio III o la cerámica estampada clasificada por Menzel como perteneciente al Horizonte Medio III (Menzel 1977:32, figuras 60, 61, 64, 65) aparece ya en el Horizonte Medio II.
- ¿Quienes fueron los que enterraron a sus muertos con los tejidos “MocheHuari” o “clásicos” Huari y la cerámica estampada o “clásica” Huari? Por los datos obtenidos por un “huaquero” hay tanto tumbas con muertos en posición extendida (rasgo típico de la cultura Moche) como tumbas con fardos funerarios (i;asgo típico de la cultura Huari). - Al discutir la función del sitio Chimú Cápac (Valle de Supe) Menzel lo llama “a strategic outpost of the Huari government, designed to curb the growing power of two serious Coastal rivals to Huari power, Pachacamac and an important center of religión and worldly power on the north coast” (Menzel 1977:31). Siendo virtualmente idénticos los materiales arqueológicos de este sitio (Kroeber 1925; Menzel 1977) con los del “Castillo” de Huarmey y encontrándose el último unos 60 km más al norte, es evidente que Chimú Cápac no pudo haber cumplido dicha función. - Según los datos ofrecidos por Proulx, la presencia de la cultura Moche en el valle de Nepeña el cual ha sido considerado por mucho tiempo como el límite meridional de la cultura Moche termina con la fase IV (Proulx 1973:1, 4748). Para el valle de Santa, Donnan constata un decremento considerable de sitios Moche V en comparación con los de Moche IV y lo interpreta como
210
consecuencia de la expansión Huari (Donnan 1973:126-127). Bawden ubica la frontera meridional de la cultura Moche para la fase V entre el valle de Moche y el valle de Virú aunque admite que lotes aislados aparecen más al sur (Bawden 1983:214-217). Parece que la fase V no era justamente una fase expansiva de la cultura Moche—por lo menos no en dirección al sur—y por eso cabe preguntarse: ¿Como llegaron tejidos “Moche-Huari” a ser enterrados en Huarmey a más de 200 km al sur de la frontera del territorio Moche designada por Bawden? Y si los Moche se retiraron de sus territorios meridionales por causa de la “expansión” Huari ¿por qué se encuentra tanto material arqueológico de ambas culturas conjuntamente en el lugar más sureño conocido hasta ahora de la cultura Moche?
Resulta que los materiales arqueológicos del “Castillo” por ahora suscitan más preguntas de las que se pueden responder por su estudio. Para invertir esa relación se necesita urgentemente efectuar excavaciones en el sitio que, aunque bastante “huaqueado” bien merecería mayor atención.
End notes: 1 Los tejidos recolectados por Ubbelohde-Doering en Huarmey se encuentran actualmente en el Staatliches Museum für Völkerkunde München. Quiero aprovechar la oportunidad para agradecer al Dr. Schindler de dicha institución por haberme facilitado la oportunidad de revisarlos. Igualmente agradezco al DAAD (Servicio Alemán de Intercambio Académico) por la beca que hizo posible el trabajo de campo en el Perú.
2 Junto con el motivo F.
Bibliografía Bawden, G. 1983 Cultural reconstitution in the Late Moche Period: a case study in multidimensional stylistic analysis. En Civilization in the Ancient Americas. Essays in Honor of Gordon R. Willey, dirigido por R.M. Leventhal y A.L. Kolata, pp 211-235. University of New Mexico Press and Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Harvard University, Cambridge Mass. Bird, J.B. 1952 Appendix 3: Textile Notes. En Cultural Stratigraphy in the Viru Valley, Northern Peru, dirigido por W.D. Strong y C. Evans, pp 357-360. Columbia University Press, New York.
Bird, J.B. y M.D. Skinner 1974 The Technical Features of a Middle Horizon Tapestry Shirt from Peru. Textile Museum Journal IV(1):5-13. Washington.
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Bolz, I. 1960 Die stilisierte Darstellung des Rochen in der Moche-Kunst. Ethnologien N.F. Bd. 2:553-557. Köln. Bonavia, D. 1982 Los Gavilanes. COFIDE, Lima.
1985 Mural Painting in Ancient Peru. Indiana University Press, Bloomington.
Burgos, F. y M.E. Catullo 1927 Tejidos Incaicos y Criollos. Buenos Aires. Carrión Cachot de Girard, R. 1959 La Religión en el Antiguo Perú. Lima.
Cisneros Velarde, L. y L.G. Lumbreras 1980 Historia General del Ejército Peruano. Tomo I, Comisión permanente de la Historia del Ejército del Perú, Lima. Conklin, W.J. 1979 Moche Textile Structures. En The Junius B. Bird Pre-Columbian Textile Conference, dirigido por A.P. Rowe, E.P. Benson y A-L. Schaffer, pp.165-183. The Textile Museum, Washington, D.C.
Conklin, W.J. y E. Versteylen 1978 Appendix 1. Textiles from a Pyramid of the Sun Burial. En Ancient burial Patterns of the Moche Valley, Peru, dirigido por C.B. Donnan y C.J. Mackey, pp 384-398. University of Texas, Austin.
Donnan, C.B. 1972 Moche-Huari Murals from Northern Peru. Archaeology 25(2):85-95. 1973 Moche Occupation of the Santa Valley, Peru. University of California Publications in Anthropology Vol. 8. University of California Press, Berkeley. 1978 Moche Art of Peru. Pre-Columbian Symbolic Communication. Museum of Cultural History, University of California, Los Angeles. Eisieb, D. y R. Strelow 1980 Altperuanische Kulturen III. Tiahuanaco. Veröffentlichungen des Muse ums für Völkerkunde, Berlin, N.F. Band 38, Berlin. Engelstad, H. 1982 Material Textil. En Ravines et al. Materiales arqueológicos de Garagay. Revista del Museo Nacional XLVI: 163-204. Horkheimer, H. 1965 Identificación y bibliofrafia de importantes sitios prehispánicos del Perú. Arqueológicas 8. Museo Nacional de Antropología y Arqueología, Lima. Ishida, E. et al. 1960 Andes. The Report of the University of Tokyo Scientific Expedition to the Andes in 1958. Tokyo. Kroeber, A.L. 1925 The Uhle Pottery Collections from Supe. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology Vol. 21 No. 6:235-265. Berkeley.
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Menzel, D. 1964 Style and time in the Middle Horizon. Nawpa Pacha 2:1-106. Institute of Andean Studies, Berkeley. 1977 The Archaeology of Ancient Peru and the Work of Max Uhle. R.H.Lowie Museum of Anthropology. University of California Press, Berkeley. Proulx, D.A. 1973 Archaeological Investigations in the Nepeña Valley, Peru. Research Report 13, Department of Anthropology, University of Massachusetts, Amherst. Stone, R.R. 1987 Technique and Form in Huari-style Tapestry Tunics: the Andean Artist, A.D. 500-800. Disertación inédita Ph.D., Departamento de Antropo logía, Yale University. Tabío, E.E. 1977 Prehistoria de la Costa del Perú. Academia de Ciencias de Cuba, La Habana. Thompson, D.E. 1966 Archaeological Investigations in the Huarmey Valley, Peru. In: Actas y Memorias del XXXVI Congreso Internacional de Americanistas Sevilla 1964, Vol. 1:541-548, Sevilla. VanStan, I.
1967 Textiles from beneath the temple of Pachacamac, Peru. A Part of the Uhle Collection of the University Museum University of Pennsylvania, Museum Monographs, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia.
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Wari and Mycenae: some evolutionary comparisons Allison C. PaulsenJ The fall of empires? What can that mean? Empires, being neither up nor down, do not fall. They change their appearance, and so people speak of overthrow and ruin—words which hide the whole game of error and deception. It would be more correct to speak of phases of empire.
Abbe Ferdinando Galiani1 Comparisons and analogy may at times be untrustworthy instru ments of scholarship. They may try to prove too much and end by proving nothing. But in judicious hands they can do something that al most nothing else can, they can show how events which we find hard to understand can be explained.. .that strange and seemingly unique cir cumstances have illuminating parallels in other times and other climes, that though history does not repeat itself, it can often be most easily grasped if we compare one situation with another.
C.M. Bowra2
Wari and Mycenae: some evolutionary comparisons More than twenty years ago, the Andeanist John H. Rowe published a list of sixty specific cultural features of limited distribution shared by cultures of the ancient Andean area and the ancient Mediterranean prior to the Middle Ages. He then suggested that archaeologists with initiative and originality should regard it as a challenge to build new archaeological theory from comparative studies of the long records of cultural development recovered in many parts of the world, preferably in combination with documented history (Rowe 1966:334-337). At least two such long-range interhemispheric studies (Adams 1966; Coe 1961)3 have appeared since then. But no one, it seems, has attempted to compare any prehistoric Andean civilisation with one from the ancient Mediterranean. This paper represents a first attempt to identify various parallels between the emergence, rise, expansion and disappearance of the early Peruvian state of Wari, and the remarkably similar history of Mycenae, a Late Bronze Age state of ancient Greece. These two completely independent prehistoric cultures shared so many specific patterns and features that in future we may perhaps regard them as cultural and evolutionary isomorphisms4. | Institute of Andean Studies Berkeley, California.
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Specific similarities between Wari and Mycenae
1: Environment
In many ways, the physical setting of the site of Wari has much in common with that of Mycenae. Each ancient capital is situated in an upland region of dramatic topographic contrasts, where relatively deep valleys are separated by chains of impassable mountains. In both regions, these physical separations served to accentuate sectional politics. Peru and Greece are also alike in that in each country this mountainous spine is relatively close to the edge of a major body of navigable water, that is, the Pacific Ocean or the eastern Mediterranean. These advantageous locations may have facilitated Wari and Mycenaean interregional trade and commerce by both land and sea, in contrast to the Moche and Minoan societies of Peru and Crete, whose trading connections focused on the sea. There seems to have been a sort of law of sociocultural gravity that kept early coastal societies from moving inland and uphill.
In both Peru and the eastern TEgean, this transfer of the seat of power from the coast to the nearby uplands coincides with a qualitative transformation of sociocultural behaviour from a sea-orientated, thalassocratic culture—the Moche of the north Peruvian coast or the Minoan of Mediterranean Crete— to the more mountainous centres of Wari and Mycenae. This shift took place so rapidly that it has been suggested that marked environmental changes were responsible for some of the major shifts in power in both prehistoric Peru (Paulsen 1976, 1986a) and Greece (Carpenter 1966; Bryson, Lamb and Donley 1974). In both regions such theories have aroused strong opposition from both Andeanists (Conrad 1981; Stahl 1984) and Mycenaean specialists (see Wright 1968, for example).
Both Wari and Mycenae are upland sites. Each rose to dominance just at the time when a strong, neighbouring thalassocratic ally had begun to wane: the fall of the Moche state of north coastal Peru preceded, and was in part responsible for the first Wari expansion (Paulsen 1986b); while the Late Minoan I and II on the island of Crete were deeply involved in the rise of Mycenae for reasons that are not yet well understood (Hooker 1976:56-790). Thus the relations between Moche and earliest Wari are similar to those between Late Minoan I and Late Helladic I and II: the Mycenaean epoch began as the power of Minoan Crete declined.
2: General chronology
At present the absolute dates of Wari and Mycenae are not entirely clear. Wari was an established Andean centre by 600 A.D., although there is some evidence that Chakipampa-like pottery found in the lea Valley may date to Nasca Phase 8 (that is, ca. A.D. 500) (Paulsen 1986b)5. While the city of Wari was virtually 215
abandoned about 800 A.D., the Middle Horizon is now estimated to have lasted 200 years longer—until 1000 A.D. (Menzel 1977:89 Chronological Table).
At Mycenae, Shaft Grave B, dated at 1600-1550 B.C. (Finley 1981: Chrono logical Table) marks the beginning of Late Helladic I, that is, the beginning of Mycenae as a major power; while the Mycenaean era ended about 1200 B.C., at the end of Late Helladic IIIC. Thus both the Peruvian Middle Horizon and Bronze Age Mycenae appear to have lasted for about 400 years.
Comparative phase chronology of Wari and Mycenae
In order to demonstrate some of the many specific similarities between Wari and Mycenae, let us compare these two cultures by dividing each into four successive phases: the first dealing with the Moche-Wari and Minoan-Mycenaean transitions in Peru and the jEgean; and the last ending with the fall of both Wari and Mycenae. It should be noted that each of the four phases within the quadripartite chronology I have suggested for Wari and Mycenaetallies culturally with its numerical counterpart. That is, Wari phase 1 equates culturally and chronologically with Mycenael, and so on.
Phase 1
In northern Peru, during phase 1, the Moche regime ended its long era of domination of the north Peruvian coast while, simultaneously, strong Wari influences began to permeate pottery styles on the South Coast (Paulsen 1986). These major shifts in power in Peru are both qualitatively and chronologically analogous to those taking place during Late Helladic I and II (1600-1550 B.C.) in the TEgean, when Minoan Crete, like Peruvian Moche, was entering a period of declining power at the same time that Mycenaewas entering its initial ascendancy on the adjacent Peloponnesian mainland. Interestingly, there is abundant evidence that during this earliest period Mycenae was already the centre of complex and far-flung networks of trade and commerce that, as early as 1600-1550 B.C., were using such exotic materials as amber from the Baltic, which is rarely found in Minoan Crete (Finley 1970:51). Ivory, pearls, gold and ostrich eggs have also been found in the earliest Shaft Graves in Circle B at Mycenae (Vermeule 1972:88; Finley 1981). Although it might appear that no comparable riches are found in Wari sites, we do know that shells of two tropical molluscs, Strombus and Spondylus, which cannot exist south of the warm waters of the Gulf of Guayaquil (in Ecuador), were treated as sacred objects in Peru as early as the Early Horizon (Paulsen 1974), and have been found in early Wari sites.
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Phase 2 By phase 2, the seat of power in both Peru and in the Greek Peloponnese has moved inland and upland. The capital of a powerful Peruvian state has been established at Wari, in the Ayacucho Valley in central highland Peru, and Wari’s inhabitants are now rapidly expanding their control over both the highlands and the coastal valleys. In Greece, similarly, a powerful mainland centre has arisen at Mycenae, a site guarding the northern neck of the Peloponnese from western, northern, and eastern invaders, while allowing access to the eastern Aegean, the Mediterranean, and, via the Gulf of Corinth, to the Adriatic. Hence Mycenaeans could now dominate much of the northeastern quadrant of the Mediterranean. Thus both Wari and Mycenae are situated in strongholds that are strategically located at the intersection of multiple routes of trade and communication between contrasting ecological zones.
During this phase, both Wari and Mycenae begin to expand their influence by founding colonies. Wari sites are established elsewhere in the Ayacucho Valley and at Pacheco, just to the west in the Nasca Valley on the South Coast. Mycenae also begins to expand, founding colonies on JEgean islands and on mainland Asia, at Rhodes (Vermeule 1972:254, 257). All of these maintain contact with the centre through traders and merchant travellers.
Phase 3
The widest expansion of Wari and Mycenae takes place in Phase 3. Wari centres appear from Cajamarca in northern Peru (McCown 1945; Topic and Topic 1987:24) to Cerro Baúl on the South Coast (Watanabe 1984). During Phase 3, the Mycenaean polity also continued to send forth colonists who established settlements from Asia Minor to Italy. Colonies cannot be disentangled from their political centres. The entire network is etically one sociocultural system that subsumes a number of individual nodes (Gall and Saxe 1977:263).
Phase
In both Peru and Greece, Phase 4 is a period of disintegration and cultural confusion whose causes are hotly debated but still unknown. The great capital cities of Wari and Mycenae have been abandoned, never to be reoccupied. Various theories have been proposed to explain these widespread upheavals, but not one of them is satisfactory. Hence Phase 4 is at present not only poorly understood, but each presents a major archaeological and sociocultural mystery6.
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Specific traits shared by Wari and Mycenæ 1: The State
The state, defined as that complex of institutions by which the power of the society is organised on a basis superior to kinship, represents the most complex and advanced level of sociopolitical evolution (Fried 1967:229).
According to Runciman, .. .there are four neccessary and jointly sufficient conditions for the emergence of a state from non-state or stateless forms of social organi sation: (1:) specialisation of government roles; (2:) centralisation of en forceable authority; (3:) permanence, or at least more than ephemeral stability of structure; and (4:) emancipation from real or fictive kinship as the basis of relations between the occupants of governmental roles and those whom they govern. Once these initial conditions are fulfilled, one or another of a range of equivalent processes is bound sooner or later to get under way which will in due course bring one or more states into being. The critical transition depends on the conditions for a cumula tive accretion of the power available to the incumbents of prospective governmental roles.
A distinction is often drawn between primary and secondary states. But to give priority to the analysis of primary over secondary state formations is to ignore the likelihood that different antecedent events may generate similar processes. The important distinction between transitional processes is that between “semi” and “proto-” states. The difference between them is that the quasi-governmental roles by which semi-states are structured carry no inherent potential for progress in the direction of statehood as defined. In a protostate, by contrast, they do. In the first, something will have to happen to bring about statehood; in the second something will have to happen to prevent it.
The difference between a world which can produce only semi states and one in which protostates and, ultimately, states develop power is one in which nomadic tribes, chronic piracy and imper manent cultivation are changed into a form of organization with investible surpluses, effective navies, inherited rulerships and the permanent subjection of smaller towns by larger ones—in other words, a world with the foundations on which roles constitutive of statehood could be built. If, after a generation or two, the struc ture of governmental roles is sufficiently stable for one group or faction of incumbents to be replaced (even if by violence) without bringing about regression or anarchy, then and only then can a society be designated, without qualification, as a state (Runciman 1982:351-357). 218
An empire is a kind of overscaled superstate that develops when a state expands far enough to exert its hegemony over a maximum number of separate ecological zones and their constituent neighbouring sociopolitical systems. At its greatest extent, such an empire is able to incorporate a very wide geographical region. The Wari empire, and its southern twin, Tiahuanaco, dominated the entire Andean highlands between southern Ecuador and northern Chile.
The Mycenaean state, or empire (Hooker 1976:133-137), was centred at the eponymous site in the northern Peloponnese, but all around the eastern Mediter ranean there were Mycenaean colonies and colony-like ports-of-trade (Vermeule 1972:225, 254-258). Such colonisation can begin only after the transition from semi-statehood to protostatehood has begun (Runciman 1982:366). The indi vidual components of such an expanded state/empire cohere only as long as its capital is capable of governing the entire structure. When the centre weakens to a critical point, the entire organisation collapses. But the specific reasons for such a collapse are still subject to discussion and debate.
Given our present limited state of knowledge about both Wari and Mycenae, it is difficult to assign them with any precision within an evolutionary status. For various reasons, few Andean or Mycenaean scholars have adopted an evolutionary approach to prehistory. But what evidence we have suggests that the Andean Middle Horizon and the Greek Bronze Age may represent an intermediate stage in sociopolitical evolution, more complex than the most advanced chiefdom, but not as highly evolved as the states of Incan Peru or post-Mycenaean Greece. If by evolution, we mean “descent, with modification”, then the striking similarities between Wari and Mycenae may signify that both of these early states represent a relatively evanescent stage which is ubiquitous in the evolution of statehood.
2: Oracles
An oracle is a special ceremonial site where a priest or priestess, who possesses a special power of communicating with the supernatural world, can interpret the past, clarify the present or predict the future to qualified visiting pilgrims. This complex socioreligious pattern is known from only a few areas in the world (Gibson 1961). Hence it is interesting to note that oracles existed both in Middle Horizon Peru (Shea 1969) and in Bronze Age Greece (Rutkowski 1986). In both areas they seem to have fulfilled similar sociopolitical functions. During the Middle Horizon, there appear to have been at least eight oracles in Peru, in the Capilla Pata zone at Wari, at Pachacamac, Wari Willka (Huancayo), Catquilla (Huamachuco), Usca Vilca (Chancay), Aysavilka (Rimae), Apo-Rimac (near the river Apurimac), and Paramonga. It is also interesting to learn that sacred trees were closely associated with some sites, and that it has been speculated that narcotic products of certain trees in the sacred precincts could have induced the kind of hallucinatory states often associated with oracular visions (Shea 1969:6, 84-87). In Mycenaean Greece similar oracles were located at Dodona, Delphi and elsewhere (Rutkowski 1986:101; Flaceliere 1976:36).
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Wherever they are found, the sociocultural role of oracles transcend that of a simple soothsayer. Both in Middle Horizon Peru and in Mycenaean Greece oracles were strategically situated at key political centres. In Greece, for example, an oracle was located at the centre of the political league or confederation of tribes known as an amphictyony, a political unit which is described as a confederation or association of neighbouring states with a common interest, . .with the added stipulation that these leagues were not political alliances” (Oxford English Dictionary).
In Minoan times, to paraphrase Parke (1967), Delphi was a local phe nomenon, Minoan in age but exhibiting almost no Minoan influence. During the age of expansion and colonisation, the oracles were often critical, providing religious unity and morale for the colonists, and cover for the political leaders who organised and directed the colonisation process (Parke 1967: Chapter 5, 44-55). Each colony not only reflected the views of the oracle-centred federation that underwrote the colonisation, but it permitted the rearrangement of any excess population (Shea 1969:95-96).
Ethnographic research tends to confirm the theory that an oracle fulfills multiple functions in a sociocultural system (Gibson 1961). Ethnohistorically, systems of oracles have been observed developing where “.. .no political super structure, such as a federation, a confederacy, or a state existed” (Ottenburg 1958:296). “In West Africa, Ibo oracles were located in strategic geographi cal positions with regard to contacts with north, south, east and west, and the oracle pattern included religious specialists.. .diviners, medicine men, and priests, who travelled a considerable distance outside their own independent units, sometimes making regular tours” (Ottenburg 1958:298). “.These Ibo or acles were deeply involved in trading systems that facilitated the distribution of trade goods, including food.. .and served to redistribute the population from areas of high density to areas of lower density” (Ottenburg 1958:296-311).
3: Notational systems
Neither Middle Horizon Peruvians7 nor Bronze Age Mycenaeans developed methods of writing beyond notational bookkeeping. Yet each of these prehistoric cultures needed, and hence developed, a useful, portable system of financial accounting capable of recording the tax rolls, religious tributes and the other forms of economic distribution and redistribution that were required by their ramified networks of widespread economic and political contacts. By the Peruvian Middle Horizon (Conklin 1982), Wari bureaucrats had invented the quipu, an ingenious notational device made of arrangements of woven and knotted cords that served as a primitive calculating machine (Locke 1923), and could also record legal and political matters (Murra 1981). The Linear A and B systems of notation developed by the Minoans and Mycenaeans of the Bronze Age were the functional equivalents of the Peruvian quipu. Both in Peru and in Greece (see for example Finley 1981:37-38).
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these bureaucratic economic activities were carried out by a specially trained corps of scribes who kept the complex records of taxes and other financial obligations managed by the members of both the Wari and the Mycenaean state organisations.
The evolutionary status of Wari and Mycenae This paper barely scratches the surface of the wealth of information about Wari and Mycenae. But it does suggest that each of these completely independent and unrelated centres was the de facto capital of an early protostate, developing along remarkably similar lines at widely separated times and in places on opposite sides of the world.
The Wari protostate of the Peruvian Middle Horizon, the successor of the coastal cultures of the Early Intermediate Period, carried inherent potential for evolutionary progress towards the ultimate development of the Inca Empire. In Greece, likewise, the capital at Mycenae came to dominate the eastern Mediterranean as the power of Crete faded. Both Wari and Mycenae were true protostates that carried the potential for the ultimate transformation into their still more highly evolved successors, the Inca Empire of Peru and the later Greek regimes of the Archaic and Classical periods.
Chronological Table
A.D. 800
Wari
Phase
Mycenae
4
Late Helladic III C
B.C. 1200
4
700
1300 3
3
Late Helladic III B
600
1400 2B 2
Late Helladic III A
2A 500
1500 IB
1
Late Helladic II
1A 400
1600
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End Notes 1 From Correspondence inédite de l’abbé Ferdinand Galiani. Dialogues sur le commerce des Bleds. Londres, 1770.
2 Bowra, C.M. in Alsop From the Silent Earth, Introduction, vii-xiv. 3 Robert McC Adams’ study The Evolution of Urban Society deals exclusively with urbanism in ancient Mesopotamia and Mexico. Michael D. Coe compares the environment of Maya culture with that of the Kmer of Southeast Asia (Coe 1961). 4 Isomorphous means having the property of crystallising into the same, or closely related, forms. 5 Lawrence E. Dawson, of the Lowie Museum, University of Calfornia at Berkeley, has proposed that what we now call Nasca 8 may in fact have been contemporary with what is now regarded as Middle Horizon 1. He supports this theory with a typically Dawsonian, impeccably documented series of valid archaeological associations described in a recent paper (Paulsen 1986).
6 Although many explanations have been advanced to account for the nearly universal series of “destructions” that took place in the eastern Mediterranean at the end of the Bronze Age, at present there is no evidence which is conclusive enough to support any single theory. A neophyte Mediterraneanist would do well to look into J.T. Hooker’s excellent summary of this complicated period (Hooker 1976:166-182), along with his admirable summary of these conflicting opinions and a lucid discussion of the matter of external invaders at the end of the Mycenæan age. 7 There were no New World cultures which developed a literary tradition analogous to that of the Old World prior to the arrival of the first Europeans. Because writing arrived in the New World all at once and relatively late, nearly all New World archaeology is, by definition, “prehistoric”. Americanist scholars, therefore, apply the word “archaeological” primarily to prehistoric material.
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