Perros territoriales

Waiting for a bus can either be very boring or most intriguing. I’ve been warned that buses don’t stick to schedules, so I’m always at least an hour early. By the way, in all this time, only one bus has been late and none have been early. Punctuality is the name of the game. Or so I thought…

Back to my story… Perros territoriales- territorial dogs. Here I was in Humahuaca, a small village in the north, high up in the Andes mountains, waiting for a bus to take me south again. I’d found a bench under a tree, which I was inclined to think was normally occupied by the local vendors, but they would just have to tolerate me sitting there for a while. They’d stacked their bags, containers and food around the base of the tree which had a little built up wall around it. I was savouring a syrupy black coffee in a styrofoam cup which the señora had poured from a blanket covered box, not asking if I wanted it sweet or not.

(Spot Louise behind the tree.)

I was peacefully contemplating life in a village, when I saw an Alsation type dog haughtily trotting down the empty street on the far side of the parking area, nose in the air, not glancing left or right.

The scene (minus trotting dog):

The next minute one of the dogs lying beside the vendors stormed accross, barking furiously. Within seconds he was joined by others, appearing from all over – behind pillars, around the corner and even under the bench I was sitting on. They immediately started attacking the poor hapless dog, who by then was backed up against the wall, snapping in all directions to defend himself against at least 8 dogs. Luckily for him one of the vendors walked accross, shouting at the attackers to back off, which they reluctantly did. At the first opportunity the ‘intruder’ escaped down the street, tail between his legs and flattened ears.

Afterwards:

It occured to me that the same scenario could apply to tourists who arrogantly enter the territory of locals. The difference is that people are more susceptible to influences such as financial gain, and thus more inclined to suppress feelings of hostility. We (the travelers/tourists) innocently assume we are entitled to pass through, not realising that our presence might be perceived as (and actually is) intruding on tradional lifestyles. Tourism is in fact as impactful as colonialism, it’s just called by a different name. Unintentional maybe, but as powerful. In the chapel in Humahuanca there is a model behind glass, depicting traditional life as it used to be many years back.

A far cry from what the town looks like today. Now most of the activities are centered around selling products, which means consumerism has engulfed even a remote village such as Humahuanca. In spite of this acute awareness this morning I intend to keep on travelling, but with even greater sensitivity.

As I was writing the above, happy that I was staying occupied while waiting, I happened to look up, just in time to see a bus pulling out right in front of me. It was from the company I had bought my ticket and it was headed for Jujuy. In other words: mý bus!! 10 min EARLY, and it was already leaving… I hesitantly got up, sort of waving at the driver, not wanting to believe it wás my bus. My waving gained momentum as the urgency of the moment penetrated my befuddled mind and I realised that the driver was nót going to respond to my feeble gestures. Eventually he stopped and I checked with him. Yes, it was the bus to Jujuy, ánd I had two subsequent buses to catch to my final destination, Cafayáte. Chaos erupted. I charged back for Louise and my rucksack and everybody in the group of vendors started panicking. They were shouting and gesturing and the señora who had served me coffee grabbed Louise and ran to the bus, me following with my rucksack slung over one shoulder. I fell into my seat, not sure whether I had heart palpitations from shock or relief – probably both. Phew, angel-protection par excellence! Thank you for all the prayers I know are being said for me. I’m inclined to not ask anything for myself – my prayers mostly consist of eternal gratitude.