Floating families

“The truth is that a lost empire, lost power and lost wealth provide perfect circumstances for living happily and contentedly in our enchanted island.”

 Malcolm Muggeridge

On Lake Titicaca there is a flotilla of floating reed islands which are home to the Uros people.  Speaking Aymara, this civilization is even older than the Incas. The idea of the floating islands came about to avoid a grizzly encounter with aggressive neighbors.  In times of threat the group could pull up their island's anchor and move on.  The way of life for these people centers around the totora reed.  It provides shelter, transport, food, medicine, fuel and of course the very ground they walk on.

“Summer isles of Eden, lying in dark purple spheres of sea.” 

Lord Alfred Tennyson

Waking early to see the pink dawn spread over the Lake, we headed off to join the floating families for a morning of obligatory tourism time.  After 72 hours of acclimatizing, I have to admit my brand new addiction to the coca tea was not really having much affect.  I was starting to feel like I actually had a screwdriver sticking out of the top of my head.  Seeing I was responsible for this latest high altitude malarky it hardly seemed fair to complain.  Maybe I should just move on to coca sweets and stop feeling sorry for myself.

"Sometimes I go about pitying myself

And all the while I am being carried across the sky

By beautiful clouds."

Ojibway Indian Poem

The tour guide picked us up from the hotel and drove us to Puno's main jetty where we boarded our vessel by walking over all the other boats tied off together.  The last boat was ours we were greeted by the unsurprising sounds of the guitar and pan pipes of a one man band.  The English speaking guide explained that we would travel out past the bank of reeds and visit with one of the floating families.  While we putted along enjoying the scenery of Puno scattered along the lake edge he described how over 2000 people belong to the Uros community. Family groupings vary in number, and therefore, so does the size of their island.  On the larger islands there is a floating school, church, store and hospital servicing the families.  As the chill of the morning air started to lift, I began to feel the effects of the sun and my closeness to it.  It made me wonder about the harsh elements these folks must endure year round, living on the damp coldness of the lake.  Legend has it that the people have black blood to help them over come the cold and save them from drowning.

"If there is no wind, row." Latin Proverb

In the distance we began to see the outline of green reed islands boasting families of brightly clothed women standing next to reed huts.  A large sign welcomed us into the beginnings of the settlement.  Arranged in a loose circle, the islands varied in size and population.  Reed boats, that appeared to have floated out of an ancient Egyptian era, plied the dark blue waters.  Two hulls of woven grass formed the base for intricately woven figure heads of condors and pumas.  The shaded hut in the centre of the boat provided a sun deck and seating upstairs for the groups of tourists being paddled back and forth.  The Uros rowers called out to each other, breaking the silent calm of the water.  Their toothless shouts and laughter echoed across the lake, welcoming us into their primordial world.  Although, the Uros people are not against modern technology, many have solar power panels to power TVs and charge cell phones.  The people on each of the islands seemed to be either entertaining tourists, waving them goodbye or waiting for the arrival of a new shipment of sightseers.  We, ourselves soon pulled along side a medium sized compound of huts clustered around what seemed like a central village green.  As the strong arms of two Uros women docked our boat, the previous group of tourist was ushered off the island onto a reed boat ride.  Business was brisk this morning.  We were eager to step down onto the spongy reeds and take our turn on the tourist merry go round.  The first footsteps onto reeds are a little disconcerting as your shoes sink down a few inches.  It takes a moment to realize the ground is indeed solid beneath your feet.  Well maybe not solid but certainly spongy.  

"No man or woman is an island. 

To exist just for yourself is meaningless. 

You can achieve the most satisfaction when you feel related to 

some greater purpose in life, something greater than yourself."

.Denis Waitley

Each island is a family entity.  Our island had 31 people living there, each one related to the other in some way.  After thanking the ladies who helped us step off the boat, we met the mayor of this particular island.  Each year a different person is elected to be the leader of the group.  I was fascinated to watch an elderly woman carefully place herself down in view of us and start to embroider a small tapestry.  The paparazzi of the 20 or so cameras in our group went off. Then a younger lady with her toddler appeared and began to unveil a low table of trinkets and souvenirs.  I couldn't imagine a harder environment to bring up a child, but the kid was wrapped up snugly and seemed happy in the usual snot nose and ruddy cheeks kind of way.  Once our tour group had assembled in a semi circle and perched on long logs made out of totora, the mayor began to explain their way of life amongst the reeds.

While we focused our attention on our tour leader and the mayor, more young girls gathered behind us, uncovering stand after stand of necklaces, baskets, dolls, tapestries, mobiles, hats and bracelets.  All the ladies wore brightly colored full skirts with short embroidered bolero jackets in brilliant hues.  Each wore an undersized bowler hat jauntily perched at angle.  Only a handful of men lurked about.  Everyone had round full faces and seemed happy with shy smiles and a reluctant grasp of English.  I also wore an interested smile as I listened to the mayor it was my first time hearing the story.  I could not imagine what there was to smile about for the island family considering they had to hear this at least two or three times a day. 

“At times our lives seem like that of a tranquil island in a sea of chaos. 

The battle is to keep this sea of chaos at bay 

and not let it wash us away into utter chaos.”

 Sanjeeva Ananthan

The totora reeds taste like watery celery, a lot of chewing for little gain.  However, this tasteless life support is akin to coca tea for the Uros.  It can be spliced and applied as a coolant to a fevered forehead, as a medicine, it's actually a rich source of iodine.  Dried it provides fodder for animals, fuel for the fire, material for the boats and foundations and walls for the huts.  Yet its most important role is underfoot - as the island created for the family, by the family, who live upon its terra firma.  Building a reed island is a not an easy task and takes many months.  Motivated members of the clan take boats and go in search of large sections of reed roots which are adrift.  Once sourced these floating entities are harvested with long, two man, hand held saws and towed back to the approximate area where the family had chosen to anchor.  These floating pontoons are then tethered together to form the island base.  Next the reeds themselves are harvested and laid length ways criss cross fashion atop of the buoyant sod, to build up the platform.  It's an ongoing labour to keep the islands afloat, as the sunken base rots away new reeds must be placed on top to rebuild the island.  It takes around 6 months to build one of these islands and they last for about 30 to 40 years.  While tourism may bring an easier income, it diverts attention from the daily task of maintaining the island and the continual replenishment of reeds.   If it all gets too much or should a dispute with a neighbor occur, one can just up anchor and move away.  If an internal quarrel escalates the same huge hand held saw could be used to cut the island in half and bring a new meaning to the word divorce!  Although tourism takes away from the island maintenance, it also provides an instant cash flow in the form of reed tourist knick knacks and beautiful embroidered tapestries.  Living off small lake fish, water fowl eggs, trapping and shooting birds with a museum piece gun, the people seemed happy and healthy.  As a piece of living history, I thought a floating island was incredible ingenuity just to avoid a few marauding neighbors.

"But what is happiness except the simple harmony
between a man and the life he leads?"
Albert Camus

Once the well rehearsed explanation from the mayor was over it was time to rub shoulders with the locals and send the kids up the rickety tower.  In times gone by of course this would have been the watch tower to look for afore mentioned marauding neighbors.  In modern day it was a shaky two story thing that warned of toppling over if too many bodies mounted at one time.  

Not all the islands are tourist traps but this one definately was.  So I figured why not  support the cause and do a little shopping.  In one sense the level of  tourism intensity did smack of Kevin Costner's waterworld.  Yet the amount of dollars injected into the village daily had to be a good reason to keep the whole thing afloat.  Who cares if tourism dollars are the motivator to keep the traditional culture going, just as long as it keeps going.

I presumed we had outstayed our welcome when another group approached and we were ushered aboard the twin hull reed boat for our $10pp experience.  The floating shop boat putted past as we swung out amongst the floating islands.  The quiet stillness of the chilly water was broken by the criss crossing of tourists and locals in various vessels.

As we passed the other islands we encountered the repetitive tourism experience going on island after island.  More than once I heard the serenade goodbye to the tourists as we looped around repetitively listening to the dulcet tones of the village ladies sing "row row row your boat" and "hasta la vista baby".  An easy humor and simple harmony with nature was all around us.

"A house must be built on solid foundations if it is to last. 

The same principle applies to man, 

otherwise he too will sink back into the soft ground 

and becomes swallowed up by the world of illusion."

Sai Baba

The floating islands were most certainly surreal although very much a hub of activity, a thriving community.  It turns out most of the Uros actually live on shore and not on the islands permanently.  What do I care if the tourismo day tripper keeps the old customs alive by giving value to them even if it is in the form of boat rides and knick knacks.  At least it was being kept alive and I could visit the illusion.

“The larger the island of knowledge, the longer the shoreline of wonder."

Ralph W. Sockman 

Now it was our turn to return to Puno with Hasta La Vista in our ears.  I had a wonderful visit to the floating islands even if I did arrive back at our hotel with a cracking headache and slight sunburn from the lack of ozone up here.  I definitely had new respect for a way of life I could never have imagined.