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In the central highlands of South America there is a small rodent that has
played and, to my knowledge, continues to play a most significant role in Andean
culture. It is the cuy, essential component of the diet of people for whom traditional
animal protein is not easy to come by.
Smallish-and for the unfortunate traveler who may see it in the kitchen right
before it is beheaded, quartered, and cooked into the steaming guiso that will
be his dinner- the cuy is not much unlike what I presume is a close relative:
the rat.
This little animal is, however, more than a mere traditional staple of the Andean
diet. For example, when sacrificed to be eaten, cooks make sure to retrieve
from the head a very small and flat bone curiously shaped like a "U." This bone
is then used in a popular beer drinking game in which a group of friends place
it on the bottom of the glass from which they will all drink(as it is also the
custom in the Andes).
For some strange reason, the little bone from the head of the cuy clings tenaciously
to the bottom of the glass once the beer is poured into it, and stays there
even when the glass is emptied time after time as it circulates among the drinking
friends.
Then, all of the sudden it comes loose, somebody swallows it becoming 'the loser'
who will have to pay for the round. Needless to say, it is laughter and drunkenness
what the cuy's funny bone promotes in this game.
But it is the cuy's role in still another game that I want to use here to drive
home a point. When I was a child, people attending popular fairs in many cities
and towns of Peru, would flock to make bets in a popular game simply called
"El Cuy."
This game was very similar to the wheel of fortune except for the fact that,
instead of spinning a large wheel in order to determine a winner, it was a poor
little cuy that was spun. Let me explain or, better yet, let me make a quick
and coarse little drawing so that you may get some idea of what I am talking
about.
People gather around the circle of numbered boxes at their feet and place bets
with the owner of the cuy to the numbers of their liking. He then steps into
the middle of the small arena holding in his hands a small box with a hinged
bottom containing the unfortunate and, no doubt, terrified cuy.
People start cheering and loudly singing their numbers as the handler deposits
the box in the middle of the arena, spins around it several times, and then
lifts it leaving the startled cuy to consider his numbered alternatives.
Being a nocturnal and burrowing creature, it doesn't generally take the cuy
long to chose. Desperate to avoid the screaming of people and the blinding light
of the sun, he makes a short dash to any of the little doors promising salvation
from this torture.
Interestingly enough, however, sometimes the tiny rodent seems to hesitate for
a few instants seeming to consider which of the numbered houses will offer the
greatest safety. This drives the crowd wild and their shouts soon force a decision
on him. Then the people who placed their bets on the box where the cuy now hides,
get paid; the crowd disperses, and the owner retrieves the poor animal and places
it back in the original hinged box to start proclaiming in a loud voice the
beginning of yet another betting round.
Being a nocturnal and burrowing beast myself, I have often wondered if I could
ever stand at the center of the arena of life and, regardless of the intensity
of the artificial light and the horrible noise of commercial and ideological
propaganda, manage not to run into any of the obscure and claustrophobic boxes
offering me false sanctuary.
Perhaps such rejection of all the mutually exclusive cultural options would
create among the gambling spectators such frustration and confusion that, in
a couple of leaps, I could squeeze between the boxes and make it to the inmense
open field that I can sense lies beyond the worldly fair.
I wonder if —finally out of the silly game for good— I could survive
without the familiar habits and fears of cuyness. I wonder about the unprecedented
freedom of the unknown, bright, and infinitely open and creative field of life...and
of me being nothing in it.
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