The Atauchi Project was created in conjunction with the development of the Nasca Collection.
For the Autumn/Winter collection of 2004, El Naturalisra designed the NASCA model, inspired by the people, traditions and culture of Peru. It takes its name from the famous lines on the Pampas de Jumana in Peru, which in 1990 were declared by UNESCO as a World Heritage site.
The Atauchi Project has involved the whole of the El Naturalista team, including agents, the commercial team, the marketing and communications teams, press agencies, design team, production, shops and clients who have all been affected by the collective spirit of this initiative. All these people have made it possible for the Nasca line to become the second most sold line among all the collections. The human component and solidarity have truly touched the people who work in El Naturalista.
These are some Nasca models:
It following the Nasca story, which inspired the model:
My trip to Peru started in the bustling city of Nasca. The plan was to visit the enigmatic Lines that spread out, for two millenniums, 500 kilometres squared of desert plans of Ica. The designs, excavated in the ground, whose complexity can only be appreciated from the air, have intrigued scientists, archaeologists and studious people for decades.
The coach that I took in Lima was full, there was only one seat free and when we set off I understood why. The window was broken and even though it was almost summer, when night fell the cold was horrible. The contrasts of the desert plateau took me by surprise; all my baggage was in the trunk. I spent a good while shivering when the man at my side, protected with a thick wool coat, asked me if I wanted to change seats. I thanked him and offered him a piece of sponge cake that I had bought before leaving. He accepted it gladly and he asked me if it was the first time I had travelled to Nasca. He told me that he was a teacher in a village and was returning to visit his parents who lived in the city. We struck up a spirited conversation that helped the journey fly by, despite the discomfort. Before saying our farewells he gave me the address of the school where he worked, in case I wanted to visit him sometime.
The first few days in Nasca were spent waiting for my turn to fly over the Lines. At that time of year there was only one light aircraft that did the route, and it wouldn’t go until it was full of passengers… I decided to take advantage and to discover the city’s surroundings: the impressive Cantaayoc aqueducts, the Cachiche Witches’ houses, the Forest of Piedra de Los Frailes… One afternoon, I decided to visit the teacher. When I got to his class, the children had already left; only one was still there at his desk, counting his fingers and writing in his exercise book with oblivious signs of difficulty. Juan, my travel companion, was very surprised to see me. He explain that it was his turn to do revision and he still had a while left, but asked If didn’t mind waiting so that later I could accompany him to take the child to his house. “He lives in a very beautiful place out in the sticks. It is really worth the visit, trust me”.
I accepted gladly and I offered to help him do the class corrections. They were writing exercises. The children had to say which of the figures of the Lines was their favourite, and why. Only a few of them had seen the Lines from the air. It was too expensive.
When we left the old ramshackle house that represented the local school, Juan went to a rickety motorbike that was parked at the door, and started it up. “Are all three of us going to go on that…?”. Their laughter was the only answer I got. I got on behind Juan, and little Atauchi got on the front with his hands of the handlebars and a face of indescribable speed… “It is his favourite moment of the day”, Juan told me.
We wheeled for several kilometres along a dusty gravel road. There was nothing but desert on both sides of us. When we reached the house, his father was there; he was cooking something that smelt delicious… and he invited us for dinner. It seemed that Juan was used to staying if the miner came back early. When Atauchi went to bed, the three of us went out onto the porch – wrapped up with blankets –, to drink a pisco, a typical strong grape liquor from those parts. It is drunk with lemon juice and egg white… Very tasty.
- “Pishco, means, “bird” in Quechua”, the miner explained. “It is prepared with Quebranta, which is a grape that only exists here…”
- “Is Quechua also the name of your son?”, I asked.
- “Yes it is, it means “he who brings us fortune”. My name, Libiak, means “shining ray”. Our names speak of nature and life, we don’t inherit them from our parents to keep up family pride and honour, as many of your people do… each of us has their own name”.
- “So, it is important not to lose your culture…”
Before answering, Libiak looked at Juan and he smiled widely.
- “…When I was a child, we invented our toys with clay, animal bones, stones… we learnt from our elders to listen to the song of the animals who brought good and bad news; to speak to the stars, the moon, the earth… to know the plants… I have tried to teach my son this. I always wanted him to understand, who but he, and others like him, will raise their voice for our people in the future? But now everything is different, everything is disappearing. Like the Pampa Lines. Trucks enter at night to go around the weighing control of the Pan-American Highway, and they destroy them… You know, a while ago I heard that sometimes Atauchi goes on his bike over the Lines with other children and they act like guards taking down the licence plates of the trucks… he has never really seen the drawings, there is not enough money to take a plane, but he defends them as if they were his own, and that fills me with pride… He believes in his heart. The Pachamama has started to speak to him, soon he will be a man”.
-. “What is the Pachamama?”, I asked.
- “Think about when you walk in a natural place … the feeling of tranquillity you get is the Pachamama, who is happy to see you and welcomes you. Pachamama gives life to humanity. The Pachamama taught us to love everything, showing us that work is a supreme virtue; if we do it with love, we will be sacred. The invaders created laws of life for us that do not respect the earth. We belong to Pachamama like the plants or the birds, and we have an obligation to protect them”.
On the way back to the village, Juan told me the story of the miner’s family; the mother died giving birth, and Atauchi has only been going to school regularly for a few months. He arrived with his father two years ago from Mollehuaca, in Arequipa, in the south of the country where both of them worked in the gold mines:
-” In some areas of Peru working children is a common sight. Atauchi started when he was six years old as a “rancher”, taking the men their food; he walked more than 10km per day carrying water and food. After that he became a “mule driver”, looking after the animals… when they moved here to work in “La Gringa”, the old mine, I found out about the situation and went to talk to Libiak to try to convince him that it was going to cause his son serious harm… It was very complicated. He is a good man, he left the mountains and has travelled the whole country looking for work. He adores his son, but above common sense, he has an idea that was instilled in him from parents to children for centuries in his culture: if you form a part of the family, you must help maintain it, it is your “obligation”, and the sooner you do it, the better”.
-”And can’t the government do anything?”
- “It is not that easy; in this case, for example, there is a gap in the legislation, the law does not contemplate mining… Furthermore, those of us who defend the native culture… must understand that they themselves develop their own strategies of survival. The violence suffered by native people has left very deep memories… most people believe that the education that we want to give our children will make them lose their roots. Many welfare projects directed at the Andean people fail because in reality we do not know how they think… I believe that values are not transmitted through words, but daily life. And I think that it is in this reality that the meeting and reparation between cultures can be found. I wanted Libiak to see that education is compatible with the respect of his customs… and through our arguments we became friends. He has shown me more than a mirror can”.
The next day, more tourists arrived in the village. There was only one place left to cover in the plane and it occurred to me to pay back Libiak’s hospitality by inviting his son to fly with me. When I went to pick him up at his school, he was already waiting for me at the door. No sooner had we boarded the plane, he stuck his tiny nose against the window and there was no separating him from it. During the half-hour flight, he only moved once to clean the condensation off with his hand. At our feet, we saw the beautiful, mysterious Lines of the Pampa of Nasca. I understood María Reiche, “the Angel of the Pampas”, a woman who had dedicated 50 years of her life to studying and protecting them… When we touched down, Atauchi, who had not said a word, started to run and shout at everything and everyone he saw: “they are so beautiful! I saw them! I saw the monkey… and the spider… and the lizard! They are so beautiful!”
His joy touched my soul. It’s a shame it lasted such a short time. We returned to the village and we saw Juan coming towards us on his motorbike. There had been an earthquake, Libiak was trapped in the mine with three others. While we were in the air, we hadn’t noticed anything.
There were many people around the pithead; miners, friends and several women crying. I wanted to take the child but Juan disagreed: “He has to be here, even though you don’t understand it that way”. Indeed, I didn’t understand it. Atauchi didn’t cry, his face was red and very serious, and he just stared at the foreman, who was speaking to the firemen who had recently arrived from Lima. Night fell but nobody left the spot. Bonfires were lit and food and blankets were brought. At daybreak, Atauchi asked Juan permission to climb a nearby hill. They went together hand in hand. I followed them at a certain distance. When they got to the top, the small boy sat on the floor, took four stones in his hands, and closed his eyes. A few seconds later he started to sing in a low voice, marking the rhythm with the stones. It was a beautiful song. A prayer to the Pachamama.
When we returned, Atauchi went to sit with the women. One of them hugged him, and there they stayed until the long-awaited news came. It was four in the morning, a Thursday – the fourth day of the week –, when we found out that the four men had been saved
