Dylan Cullen

SFS 4910

Katie MacDonald, Ph.D.

18 May 2016

Amplifying Voices:

Seeking Community-Driven Solutions to Daily,

Environmental, and Social Challenges in Pilcopata, Peru

(A Queros Perspective)

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Amplifying Voices:

Seeking Community-Driven Solutions to

Daily, Environmental, and Social

Challenges in Pilcopata, Peru

(A Queros Perspective)

DYLAN M. CULLEN

The School for Field Studies

Pilcopata, Peru

Abstract

This paper explores the perspectives of members of the Queros community near Pilcopata, Peru

in order to provide a space of amplification for Indigenous voices. PhotoVoice is used as the

primary method, supplemented by focus group, community survey, and personal interview data,

which worked synergistically with the theoretical approaches and methodologies employed in

this study to challenge hegemonic and exploitative “researcher”-“researched” relationships,

especially in working with a community whose history was, and continues to be, deeply rooted

in colonialism. Thirteen major themes are identified by participants across daily life,

environmental, and social categories. From these themes, the top daily life, environmental, and

social challenges facing Pilcopata are determined and ordered by Queros community members.

Daily life challenges identified by participants centered around concepts of time, responsibility,

work, and child care, while climate change was ranked as the most pressing environmental

concern and the inadequate quality of health care, as well as racist and classist practices of the

health care system, were named as the top social concerns. Potential solutions are then examined,

including governmental and policy reform, educational campaigns, and collective action. In

moving forward, future research will be required to determine best practices for implementing

solutions to the challenges identified in this paper, especially solutions that continue to dismantle

the social-institutional structures that underlie the challenges facing the community of Queros

and the population of Pilcopata.

Keywords: Indigenous; PhotoVoice; Pilcopata; political ecology; (post-)colonialism; Queros

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I. Introduction

Colonialism, often treated as an accessory of the past, is a phenomenon with historical

roots that have saturated all facets of life for marginalized communities (Nahuelpan, 2016: 13).

Indigenous peoples have long been engaged in a painful relationship with evolving expressions

of colonialism, their cultures and livelihoods constantly under the threat of erasure and

eradication. Understood through the experiential context of Indigenous communities, research

has been a word carrying with it the gravity of imperialism, colonialism, and the

misrepresentative documentation and exploitation of Native culture in historical writing (Smith,

1999 in Nahuelpan, 2016: 7). Conducting research on Indigenous peoples, who despite their

heterogeneity have universally been affected by colonialism through their positioning as a

homogenous “Other,” represents a continuation of colonialism that maintains hierarchical social

control and subordination (Nahuelpan, 2016: 7-8). Additionally, such research reinforces an

exploitative and extractive relationship between the dissociated “researching subject” and

“researched object,” a process that continuously erodes away at trust by denying opportunity for

respectful and reciprocal exchanges to occur (Kesby, 2005: 2051 & Nahuelpan, 2016: 11). In this

research, intentionality has been placed on providing an opportunity for members of an

Indigenous community to share their voice unadulterated by the spectres of colonialism as much

as possible, given recognition of colonial contexts and the fact that the research was conducted

by myself, an outsider, rather than being internally driven. As Rivera Cusicanqui (2010b)

decreed, “there cannot be a decolonization discourse, a decolonization theory, without a

decolonizing practice” (Nahuelpan, 2016: 10). As a means of subverting the traditional

structuring of research on Indigenous communities, I worked with and for the community

members of Queros near Pilcopata, Peru, treating them as full partners rather than consultants in

my research (Delemos, 2006: 330-333).

Globally, communities are finding themselves faced with increasing environmental and

social challenges, including poverty, climate change, and land degradation, on micro, meso, and

macro scales. However, these concerns affect communities differently, with some communities

cloaked by privilege and others working against the compounding effects of discrimination on

the basis of class, gender, race, ability, and age (Nahuelpan, 2016: 11). One specific

manifestation of such discrimination is institutionalized racism, which affects Indigenous

communities through differential access to the benefits of society (goods, services, and

opportunities) on the basis of race (Delemos, 2006: 332). Traditionally, this institutionalized

racism silences and distorts the voices of Indigenous communities by homogenizing their

perspective, denying their complexity, and treating their knowledge sets as conditionally

irrelevant or advantageous (Nahuelpan, 2016: 8). However, Indigenous communities consistently

report that the effects of interlocking social and economic vulnerability are more urgent than the

climate crisis, an issue that is seen as paramount under Western environmental discourse, which

is indicative of the different prioritizations communities must make based on contextual

circumstances (Wiseman & Bardsley, 2013: 1036).

While all communities have been and will continue to be affected by social and

environmental issues, the ability to be resilient or dynamically adaptive to these challenges is

entirely contingent upon contextual components such as power dynamics (both perceived and

actual, both past and present), the complex and compounding effects of social and institutional

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structures, and the knowledge one possesses regarding the choices available to them as a result of

these systems. Many Indigenous communities are engaged in innovative work, subverting the

colonial conception that Indigeneity is “archaic” and “irrelevant” (Rigney, Bignall & Hemming,

2015: 345). Indigenous perspectives are crucial to understanding the challenges faced by

communities, particularly when situated within the context of their being historically silenced

and discounted. Involving Indigenous voices in research that challenges the hegemonic and

historic relations of power and abuse will be a critical component of not only toppling these

systems, but opening up dialogue about what it means to be Indigenous in the world today.

Specifically, Latin American anthropological research must recognize the colonial

histories that have impacted Indigenous communities, especially as the continent has been home

to some of the most abundant and horrific displays of exploitative researcher-participant

relationships (Bartolomé et al., 1971 in Nahuelpan, 2016: 10). Consequently, I begin here by first

problematizing my role as the researcher based on the identities and perceptions I have brought

to this study in order to demonstrate how these contexts have impacted my thinking as well as to

further divulge the lenses through which I approached this work. Following this self-

examination, I provide a contextual analysis of the location of my research, explaining some of

the components of Peru’s national-historical relationship with Indigenous populations as well as

brief histories of Pilcopata and the Comunidad Nativa de Queros. I discuss the relevancy of these

historical backdrops to this study, either directly or as information that adjusted my philosophical

framework for approaching my research. I next outline my theoretical approaches and the

methodologies that have informed my relationship with this study. Additionally, I provide

justification for the research design of this project, explaining my methods and, once again,

situating their validity in contextual knowledge. Research findings are then unpacked and

positioned within a larger body of research to illustrate thematic relationships between past,

present, and future partnerships with Indigenous communities. Solutions, including

governmental and policy reform at local, regional, and national levels, educational campaigns,

and shifts in public perceptions and paradigms were explored through a partnership between

myself and the participants, and will be expanded upon in the conclusions of this paper.

II. Background

Situating Self

My interest in historically marginalized and oppressed groups is derived from

personal, educational, and professional experiences. Communities that have been affected

by colonialism, encroaching modernity and conceptualizations of Western progress, and

hierarchical systems of exploitation, as well as those with patriarchal histories and

oppressive conceptualizations of masculinity, have been particular focuses of mine in

academic research. Specifically, I have studied global manifestations of masculinity as

they impact and reinforce systems of oppression, the varying degrees of effectiveness of

public and policy focus on missing and murdered Indigenous women in the United States

and Canada, and the ways in which (post-)colonial thought presumes that colonialism is a

hallmark of the past rather than an active and dynamic reality of the present.

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In pursuing a Bachelor of Science degree in Environmental Policy with

Champlain College, located in Burlington, Vermont, I have studied the policies and

practices surrounding environmental justice and the contextual relationships between

oppression and empowerment as they exist within larger conversations regarding the

social and environmental challenges faced by communities. Courses that have influenced

my understanding of the challenges and responsibilities associated with working with

historically marginalized communities include Colonialism & Identity, Concepts of Self,

Concepts of Community, Environmental Justice, Globalization and Environmental

Policy, The Global Condition, Ethics and the Environment, Human Rights &

Responsibilities, Peruvian Culture, and Political Ecology of Developing Landscapes.

A modern proverb, which I have adapted slightly, states that if you are not at the

table, you are on the menu and/or you are footing the bill. In other words, if you are not

part of the decision-making process, you can expect that those who are present will take

advantage of your absence in such a way that you will see none of the benefits but may

bear all of the costs. This holds especially true in relation to environmental injustices,

which are disproportionately burdened upon historically marginalized communities.

Many marginalized groups, including People of Color, Indigenous communities, and

environmental leaders from the Global South have been traditionally left out of

conversations essential to collaborative global governance. Even if these parties are

present, many are ignored (Johnson, 2010: 1). In my research, it was central that I

provide a space for the voices of the Indigenous community members of Queros to be

amplified and heard.

Using Datta et al. (2014) as a model, I find that the acknowledgement of personal

identities and experiences is an integral component of qualitative research, especially

when working with historically marginalized communities. Doing so allows us the space

to make clear our subjectivities and any potential biases that may impact the ideologies

that drive our research, as well as the space to practice the relationality that should be

involved in research with Indigenous communities (Datta et al., 2014: 3).

My experiences as a member of the queer and genderqueer communities

galvanized me to become engaged in work with other marginalized groups, seeking

commonalities between the “oppressor” and the “oppressed” as well as between the

experiences of different communities with shared histories of colonialism. However, I

also recognize that I possess several hegemonic, or dominant, identities that influenced

my research either through my own perceptions or how I was perceived by the

community members with which I worked. My racial identity as a white researcher

possesses historical clout, rooted in contexts of colonialism, biopiracy, and the situation

of “whiteness” as the norm against which all dissimilar racial identities (or perceived

racial identities) are positioned as “Other” (Lipsitz, 2005: 369). Additionally, my United

States citizenship and my unilingual communication abilities as an English speaker are

the products of privilege, and I must take ownership of the fact that they informed both

the ways in which I had to conduct my research (i.e. the use of a translator) and the ways

in which my research was perceived (i.e. racialized and nationalized assumptions, both

romanticizations and stigmatizations). Despite my subversive gender identity at home, I

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recognize that I was perceived to be male in a country with a deep history of machismo

culture. At the time of this study, this hierarchical system of male dominance in Peru was

also at a different stage of being confronted than was being witnessed in the United

States, despite tourism, migration, and media providing Peruvians increasing contact with

women’s liberation movements (Fuller, 2000: 94). Work, especially work involving the

physical strength and geographic mobility required of labor in rural or low-income

communities like Pilcopata, creates a culture of masculinity in which employment is the

hallmark of hombría, or manhood (Fuller, 2000: 104). Men may have been hesitant or

unable to participate in the study if work was to be done, or if the location of interactions

were to take place in a home, which is seen as a place of risk for men fearing

emasculation by association with the feminized domestic (Fuller, 2000: 96). Driven by

common global hallmarks of masculinity, such as strength, valor, sexual prowess, virility,

competition, rivalry, and seduction, Peruvian masculinity may have influenced my

research experience by creating culturally inherent power dynamics that affected data

content or someone’s willingness to participate in the study (Fuller, 2000: 94-96). A

melding of my hegemonic and subversive identities maintained the capacity to influence

my research experience, and if I am to be authentic and honest as a researcher, I must

acknowledge these possibilities in full (Datta et al., 2014: 3).

I employed the five part cultural competency self-examination to ensure that my

recognition of these imbalances in power dynamics translated into an active subversion of

such concerns (Delemos, 2006: 331). This process involved (1) developing an

appreciation of difference and a recognition of the inherent value of diversity, (2) a

cultural self-assessment such as that outlined above, (3) a continuous improvement of my

understanding of the dynamics of difference, (4) an ability to access cultural knowledge

through my research, and (5) a willingness and concerted effort to adapt to diversity

(Delemos, 2006: 331). By using a non-traditional means of data collection that provided a

voice for historically marginalized communities, and through involving participants in

multiple phases of data collection and analysis, I was able to challenge the hegemonic

positionality I brought to the study (see Research Design & Methods in Section V for

further details).

In order to meet my responsibility as a researcher working with Indigenous

communities to develop and maintain meaningful and mutually-beneficial relationships, I

built upon several connections and existing relationships (Datta, 2014: 1). These

connections included relationships with members of ACCA (Asociación para la

Conservación de la Cuenca Amazónica) and SFS-Peru (School for Field Studies) staffs in

Pilcopata who were familiar with the social and political landscapes of such a small

community and who had personal connections with Queros community members living

and working in Pilcopata. The use of this extensive network of tiered, concentric

connections further situated my research within the relationality that is integral for

working with Indigenous communities (Kovach, 2009: 32).

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Contextualizing Indigeneity in Peru in a (Post-)Colonialism Era

Throughout the nineteenth century, Latin American countries began attempting to

shed their colonial pasts by forming independent states (Golash-Boza & Bonilla-Silva,

2013: 1486). However, rather than challenging Eurocentric ideals of white supremacy

during this period of national identity discovery, nineteenth century intellectual and

political leaders across the continent bolstered these racist beliefs in a system of stratified

hierarchy where darker-skinned individuals, especially Indigenous and Afro populations,

were positioned as inferior to those of European descent (Golash-Boza & Bonilla-Silva,

2013: 1486). Both before and since then, Indigeneity has been homogenized, seen

through an “ethno-colonial gaze” that transforms Indigenous peoples into objects with

transparent humanities who are meant to be observed and positioned as “Other” against

purportedly “civilized” societies (Lindner & Stetson, 2009: 43). Patten & Ferguson

(1938) discuss the “scientific lie” of Indigenous peoples as members of a “backwards”

and “low” race, and Golash-Boza & Bonilla-Silva (2013) add how the fields of science

and medicine influenced Latin American leaders to purposefully facilitate the adoption of

racialized social structures (Arbon & Rigney, 2014: 480). Words such as “backwards”

and “low,” once used by European colonialists to describe the people whose lands and

dignity they conquered, were now being used by recently liberated peoples in countries

like Peru to describe Indigenous peoples who were, so to speak, in the “wrong” place

culturally at the wrong time. In this cyclic transformation of the oppressed becoming the

oppressors, a shared history was exposed that continues to pervade Peruvian culture and

enforce ethnically driven and systemic social subjugation.

In addition to being seen as homogenous, Indigeneity is often “forcefully, though

complexly and sometimes contradictorily, tied to nature” to such a degree that the “Myth

of the Noble Savage” has been fabricated to continuously reinforce assumptions of

Indigenous communities as harmonious stewards of the natural world (Redford, 1991 in

Erickson, 2008: 161; Lindner & Stetson, 2009: 42). There are often no depictions of

urban Indigenous communities, as leaving the forest and “traditional” ways of life is seen

through the ethno-colonial gaze as an abandonment of Indigenous identity in favor of

joining the homogenous “Peruvian” demographic (Lindner & Stetson, 2009: 43). In fact,

all communities that maintain residency in or a deep connection with “nature” (as defined

under a Western dichotomy) who are positioned as “Other” would likely be assumed to

be Indigenous, despite the actuality that “a group’s self-identification as tribal or

[I]ndigenous is not natural or inevitable, but...is, rather, a positioning...an

accomplishment, a contingent outcome of the cultural and political work of articulation”

(Li, 2000 in Lindner & Stetson, 2009: 44). When positioned as “Other” by the hegemony,

marginalized peoples and communities lose the autonomy to determine for themselves

how they are identified and understood within macro-scale social institutions. Indigenous

communities, as well as being assigned an identity and reduced to a stereotypical

relationship with nature, are often also strictly confined to the past (Lindner & Stetson,

2009: 42). This confinement began long ago, has been reinforced continuously, and aims

to efface Indigeneity from the future by denying its existence and worth today.

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The corporeal conquest of Peru by the Spanish in 1532 sent ripples throughout the

country that are still pervasive today. In particular, Peru’s government structure is heavily

influenced by Spanish legal culture in such a way that Indigenous and national laws

diverge in a dance of dominance, resistance, and hegemony (Drezewieniecki, 2003: 53).

Four key pillars that support Peruvian law are adopted almost directly from the Spanish

legal system, including idealism (a belief that law should prioritize the expression of

ideals rather than rooting itself in practice), paternalism (a hierarchical belief that laws

should be bestowed upon the greater populace by the elite with little regard for public

opinion), legalism (a faith in the remedial power of legislation for any social or economic

problem), and formalism (an exaggerated fetish for the formal, such as excessive

documentation) (Karst & Rosenn, 1975 in Drezewieniecki, 2003: 64). Between 1821 and

1968, after the Spanish judicial system was revoked, the legal structure of Peru became

incredibly local, personal, and expensive and local authorities held considerable power

with little regulation from any overarching government (Guerrero, 1989 in

Drezewieniecki, 2003: 65). As judges and law enforcement officers received virtually no

training and elites wielded considerable control over the locally-centered political

landscape, bribery became the primary law of the land until the 1980s (Pásara, 1987 in

Drezewieniecki, 2003: 65). Indigenous communities, often affected by low levels of

literacy (especially in Spanish), were easily taken advantage of as the justices of peace

handling their concerns generally upheld the hacienda1 labor system that exploited

Indigenous labor (Drezewieniecki, 2003: 66). Although a common misconception about

Indigeneity is that it is stagnant, archaic, and helpless (Rigney, Bignall & Hemming,

2005: 345), Indigenous law during this time was relatively resilient, particularly at the

lower court levels, where coca and shamanic divination were sometimes used in courts

(Drezewieniecki, 2003: 67). In tandem with the utilizations and appropriations of

Indigenous cultures at this time, Indigeneity as a whole was being continuously

positioned as “Other,” and lands that Indigenous communities had occupied for centuries

were considered to be unclaimed and untenanted, which led to a movement to seize lands

from those who were “unworthy” to hold them.

Law 840, commonly known as the “Law of the Jungle,” was presented to

Congress by President Alan García in 2006 in an attempt to concede “uncultivated” lands

to logging companies controlled by foreign investors (Rénique, 2009: 5). This law was

designed to remove Indigenous communities from traditional lands and dismantle the

communal property regime, which were seen as obstacles to development and

modernization (Rénique, 2009: 5). However, the law was held up in Congress by a joint

effort of the Congressional Commission for Amazonian, Indigenous, and Afro-Peruvian

Affairs and The People’s Ombudsman Office for a brief period before García overrode

this political hiccup by passing presidential decrees 1015 and 1073 (Rénique, 2009: 6).

These decrees allowed for a free-trade agreement between Peru and the United States,

1 Haciendas were common across South America, and were generally large landholdings in which landowners

implemented strict control over peasant agriculturalists who were permitted to work small areas of land in exchange

for providing labor for their patron (Hayes, 2015: 87). These landholdings operated within unique universes of

social relations which represented a “triangle without a base” in which the State provided power to the patron, who

in turn abused the peasants and kept them from sharing collective power between one another (Bretón, 2014 in

Hayes, 2015: 86; Favre, 1976 in Thurner, 1993: 43). Cycles of debt often kept these peasant peons indefinitely

trapped into working for the landowner (Hayes, 2015: 88).

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which disrupted the protection of communally-held lands for both Andean and

Amazonian Indigenous groups by permitting the intervention of third parties under the

guise of business partnerships (Rénique, 2009: 6). This violation of Indigenous peoples’

lands would leave them without resources, dignity, or a sense of identity (Rénique, 2009:

6). Despite blockades, marches, demonstrations, and a proposed alternative for the

Peruvian government, Indigenous protestors were met with nine months of silence

(Rénique, 2009: 7). Eventually, the congressional Commission on Amazonian,

Indigenous, and Afro-Peruvian Affairs passed Law 2440, which annulled García’s

decrees (Rénique, 2009: 8).

Despite this success and others, colonialism and conquest have rooted themselves

in politics as well as academia, both of which have traumatized Indigenous communities

and affected the way they approach future relationships with “outsiders” such as

Westerners. The Peruvian government, built upon the “neoliberal, monocultural” notions

of individualism, self-interest, and exclusion, represents a contextual backdrop against

which work with Indigenous communities must be contrasted, for better or worse

(Rénique, 2009: 8).

A Brief History of Pilcopata

Pilcopata is located in the Kosñipata Valley of southeastern Peru and is

considered to be an Amazonian lowland community. Pilcopata serves as the capital of the

Kosñipata district located in the Paucartambo region of the department of Cuzco (Kumar,

2015: 5). The current population of Pilcopata, which closely neighbors the Manu

National Park where some of the world’s highest biodiversity is found, is approximately

2,800 people (Kumar, 2015: 5). Most of the people living in Pilcopata are settlers who

arrived approximately three decades ago (Tello, 2014: 5). The area rests in an altitudinal

range of 520 to 1200m, and annual precipitation is 400 cm, with the rainy season

occurring between the months of November and March (Kumar, 2015: 6). The average

temperature in Pilcopata is 22 °C (Asociación para la Conservación de la Cuenca

Amazónica 2015).

Pilcopata has been inhabited by the Indigenous tribe of the Wachiperi, amongst

others, for over 1,000 years (Tello, 2014: 4). The Wachiperi language is a variation of

Harakmbut, which is a language spoken by a larger community in the Amazon. In 1400

C.E., the Incan Empire established settlement communities in the modern-day

Paucartambo region (Kumar, 2015: 6). The Wachiperi people began to trade products,

such as coca and bird feathers, with the new settlers (Tello, 2014: 4). In the mid-sixteenth

century, Spanish arrived to the region; Pedro de Candia, who served as a lieutenant under

Francisco Pizarro, led an expedition up the Pilcopata River in 1538 (Gobierno Regional

Madre de Dios, 2015). After Peru’s independence from active Spanish colonization in the

1850s, the number of scientific explorations conducted in the Kosñipata region increased

dramatically.

Around 1905, hacienda owners in the region invested in the development and

improvement of a trade path from Cusco into Pilcopata (Kumar, 2015: 7). By 1912, a

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more permanent road into the rainforest was developed, designed by a Swiss engineer by

the name of Sven Erickson; it was not until 1955 that this road finally reached Pilcopata

(Kumar, 2015: 7). However, the road remained inaccessible to cars until the 1970s, when

Peru’s national army completed its construction (Gobierno Regional Madre de Dios,

2015). Logging, mining, and other extractive industries became common around this

time, with Peruvians migrating from the already resource-depleted Andes to the lowlands

to lay claims to land. However, with the founding of Manu National Park in 1973,

extractive industries became severely restricted (Gobierno Regional Madre de Dios,

2015).

Today, members of the Pilcopata community maintain livelihoods through small-

scale logging and farming endeavors, with farming constituting the primary source of

income. The community, with historical roots in subsistence farming, traditionally grew

bananas and yucca, though some families began switching away from this produce to

grow more profitable crops such as coca (Luz Ruiz Fuchs, pers. comm., March 25, 2016).

It is important to note that coca is a growing economy in this region, especially for

highlanders migrating down into the valley, largely due to its profitability being

exponentially higher than that of any other crop even when sold legally through

regulatory organizations (Katie MacDonald, pers. comm., April 28, 2016). Colonialism

and mercantilism still pervade these market structures, however, as the best produce and

coca grown in and around Pilcopata are shipped north to large distributors and resold in

markets in Cusco and Lima, while lower quality goods are left behind at Pilcopata

markets (Luz Ruiz Fuchs, pers. comm., March 25, 2016). The region of Paucartambo

(Figure 1), which houses Pilcopata, suffers from a poverty rate of 73% according to the

Instituto Nacional de Estadística e Informática (INEI: National Institution of Statistics

2007). This translates to 73% of people surviving on less than two dollars per day

(Lopez, White & Cabada, 2012: 483). In working with a community with such a high

poverty rate, it was part of my responsibility as the researcher to recognize the ways in

which this economic context could impact people’s perceptions of the personal,

environmental, and social challenges facing Pilcopata. During data collection, poverty

and limited economic mobility were frequently noted as a causal dilemma, with 50% of

participants in the Community Survey phase indicating it as the second most pressing

concern in their daily lives (see Figure 9A in Results in Section VII).

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Figure 1. Map of the department of Cuzco and its associated regions in Peru, with poverty rates included as

percentages. Pilcopata is located in the Paucartambo region which has a poverty rate of 73%.

A Brief History of Queros

The Indigenous village of Queros is located about 7 miles from Pilcopata (Tello,

2014: 6). The journey from Queros to Pilcopata, which community members frequently

make on foot, takes over two hours and requires crossing several rivers (Tello, 2014: 6).

In a tragic smallpox epidemic, 65% of the Wachiperi population was lost by the 1950s,

with the Queros population now consisting of less than sixty people (Shephard &

Morales, 2008; Pinasco, 2002 in Tello, 2014: 4-5). In some respects, this loss of people

increased the population of Queros by encouraging the Wachiperi to band together on

common land instead of living in small family groups (Katie MacDonald, pers. comm.

May 5, 2016). However, today, just four families live permanently on traditional lands

(Fredi Quetehuari, pers. comm., March 28, 2016). Queros community members frequent

Pilcopata to visit family or friends, with many occupying full-time residencies in

Pilcopata (Tello, 2014: 5). Although smallpox decimated the population of the

Wachiperi, their forced resettlement into a Baptist mission would prove to be even more

devastating (Tello, 2014: 4). The relatively independent way of life that the Wachiperi

enjoyed until the 1950s was an anomaly among the histories of colonization and

disruption experienced by other Indigenous communities in Amazonia (Tello, 2014: 4).

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In this respect, the wounds inflicted by colonialism among the Wachiperi are recent and

persistent. The mission was installed by Roberto Wahle, a missionary from the United

States, and it facilitated the Wachiperi’s integration into a Western market structure.

Spurred by Wahle’s Western influence in the community, the value of preserving

forested lands that had been historically crucial for the Wachiperi’s subsistence lifestyle

gradually began to compete with the need for marketable products, such as crops and

lumber, that could be sold nearby in Pilcopata (Tello, 2014: 5). Wahle controlled the

Wachiperi’s lifestyle in all areas where he could assert his influence, requiring the

Wachiperi people to attend worship every Saturday and dictating which crops could be

planted (Fredi Quetehuari, pers. comm., March 28, 2016). After brief periods of

successful production of coffee and cacao, Wahle decided to bring cattle to the property,

where he expected the Wachiperi to work for him. Frustrated that he could not make the

Wachiperi “understand” the Word of God, Wahle sent a young boy to Cusco to study

religion and come back to teach it to the rest of his community (Fredi Quetehuari, pers.

comm., March 28, 2016). However, in the time that the boy was away, the Wachiperi

became bitter about the domineering nature of the missionary and left to find new land.

When the boy returned, he looked for his community and was able to secure them the

rights to their land as a result of the Agrarian Reform2 (1969) (Fredi Quetehuari, pers.

comm., March 28, 2016). Part of the land of the Queros community, which was used for

cattle grazing during the time of the mission, has been named “Mission” after its

historical roots (Fredi Quetehuari, pers. comm., March 28, 2016). The failure of the

missionary to convert the Wachiperi to Christianity3 played a major role in the

Wachiperi’s ability to remain independent of plantations, which forced plantation owners

to import laborers from outside of the Kosnipata Valley in the form of other Indigenous

2 The Agrarian Reform, announced in the televised speech “The Master Will No Longer Feed Off Your Poverty”

delivered by General Juan Velasco on the Day of the Peasant (June 24th

, 1969), was intended to impose limits on

land sales so that land could be for those who worked it rather than those charging rent without tilling it. The

“oligarchical order” of Peru was destroyed, with the Reform abolishing old Andean estates and more recent coastal

plantations (Mosley, 2002: 440; Starn, Degregori & Kirk, 2005: 282). The Reform was also designed to guarantee a

fair price for crops from the State (Starn, Degregori & Kirk, 2005: 282). Velasco famously declared, “Land should

be for the peasant, for the small and medium-sized landowner; for the [person] who sinks [their] hands into it,

creating wealth for all, the [person] who in the end fights and sinks the roots of [their] destiny into the fertile rows,

the givers of life” (Starn, Degregori & Kirk, 2005: 282). However, contradictory to its goals, the Reform gave rise to

peasant capitalism which intensified rural inequality (Mosley, 2002: 440). While the number of individual land

owners was on the rise, this ownership was notably inequitable (Mosley, 2002: 442). Additionally, Indigenous

communities in Peru were homogenized into a national, uniform system of peasant organization that required them

to form cooperatives (which are not traditional Indigenous political structures) in order to receive land titles and

government agricultural credit (Davis & Wali, 1994: 4-5). 3 Currently, the population of Queros, as well as Peru at large, is predominantly Catholic (Katie MacDonald, pers.

comm., May 3, 2016). In fact, the early constitutions of Peru did not recognize non-Catholic denominations, with

Catholicism proclaimed as the national religion (Garcia-Montúfar, Solís & Isaacson, 2004: 385). Peru has a

tumultuous history with Missionary Christianity in particular, a process of conversion in which missionaries arrived

in the midst of Spanish conquest and facilitated the continued disruption of Indigenous institutions by employing

force to “persuade” communities to reject their traditional spiritualities and ways of thinking in favor of adopting

Christianity as their faith (Maccormack, 1985: 445). Most missionary campaigns began with the destruction of

sacred sites and objects in an attempt to shatter Indigenous beliefs in the protective power of locales and artifacts

while simultaneously shocking communities into submission (Maccormack, 1985: 454). By the 1600s, Christianity

and Spaniards had infiltrated most of Peru, with only the most remote regions left untouched; however, these areas

soon became flooded with converted Christians as extractive industries overharvested profitable raw materials and

facilitated the migration of highlanders to the lowlands of Amazonia (Maccormack, 1985: 460).

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peoples or prisoners who were used for forced labor (Tello, 2014: 17). In 1974, the

'Jungle' Law was passed, which allowed the Indigenous Wachiperi and Matsiguenka

communities of Queros the ability to register as official state entities to gain land titles to

areas around Pilcopata (Davis & Wali, 1994: 5). However, the amount of land granted by

the government was arbitrarily determined, and parcels were small, fragmented, and

required exceptionally conversant bureaucratic navigation by lowland communities in

order to be obtained (Davis & Wali, 1994: 5).

Due to its historical loss of population density and a dramatic shift in economic

structure as a result of colonial influence, the community of Queros (Figure 2) should be

thought of not within the bounds of a geographically or politically defined area, but rather

as a complex arrangement of people whose daily lives transcend a singular physical space

(Tello, 2014: 5). The cultures of Queros, hybridic in their melding of so called

“traditional” and “modern” elements, represent a people who have historically chosen to

respond to their situation with dynamic resilience. Today, almost everyone in Queros

speaks both Spanish and Wachiperi, one symbol of their efforts to adapt to changing

times without allowing their culture to be consumed in the process (Tello, 2014: 11). In

working with this community, understanding the various milieus that situate Queros is

crucial to the formation of a just, reciprocal, and accountable research relationship.

Figure 2. Photograph of homes in the community of Queros. Photograph taken by a PhotoVoice participant.

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III. Theoretical Approaches

In this study, several theoretical approaches guided the application of methods and

methodologies designed to maintain positive and mutually beneficial research partnerships

between participants and myself. These theoretical approaches (Political Ecology, Post-

colonialism, and Social Natures) worked synergistically to ensure an interdisciplinary critical

engagement with problems identified, the employment of a deconstructive criticism that

challenged personal (in relation to my identities) and systemic (in relation to colonial history,

past and present) positions of hegemony, a recognition of Western biases (i.e. dualism), and the

fostering of agency and resistance to oppression among participants.

Political Ecology

Political ecology acknowledges the multi-faceted and compounding elements of social

and physical environments, with purposeful attention paid to critical engagement with the

issues associated with such environments (Asher, 2014: 489). Emerging from cultural

ecology, political ecology focuses on the role of ecology, political science, ethnography,

geography, and many other fields of study in the melding of “cultural” and “natural”

worlds (Garrett-Graddy, 2013: 588). Additionally, political ecology has a deliberate focus

on small communities and their struggles to maintain cultures and livelihoods within the

contexts associated with politics of place (Garrett-Graddy, 2013: 588). Historical

perspectives are integral to political ecology discourse, though specific relationships

between past systems of oppression or manifestations of inequality and current conditions

must be carefully demonstrated rather than assumed (Bell, 2015: 522). In fact, political

ecology has been criticized for focusing solely on theory, which can be perceived as

“indulgent” or even “imperialist,” and it has been noted that theory and practice should

exist in a codependent partnership (Asher, 2014: 492). Within this study, my

methodologies and methods reflected recognition of the interwoven nature of the locale

that I researched and its associated cultures by (1) identifying the politics of place

relevant to the research setting on national, local, and communal scales, (2)

contextualizing and problematizing the historical perspectives of such locales and their

relationship to my research, (3) acknowledging the interconnectedness of social and

environmental concerns, especially for low-income and rural communities, and (4)

translating political ecology theory into political ecology practice through the

employment of methods designed to empower marginalized communities (see Research

Design & Methods in Section V).

(Post-)colonialism

Colonialism is not a hallmark of the past; rather, it pervades the present in fresh,

insidious, and veiled manifestations. For this reason, the rhetoric of post-colonialism is

misleading, and as such, it refers to an axiology that can be rather than one that currently

exists. While the appearance of colonialism has changed, a belief that colonialism is of

the past is unveiled as fraudulent in the context of the present, such as extractive and

exploitative research relationships with Indigenous peoples. (Post-)colonialism reflects a

critical analysis of how colonialism is manifested at present, both blatantly and

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subversively, positioning itself somewhat satirically against discourses that deny the

existence of colonialism today. Employing (post-)colonial and Indigenous perspectives in

research helps communities express agency and resistance to patriarchal oppression and

methodological imperialism (Chilisa & Ntseane, 2010: 621). (Post-)colonialism rejects

the concept of “the Other,” which, within the traditional contexts of colonialism, pushes

those who do not adhere to Western ideals to the margins of society writ large (hooks,

1992: 45). “Othering” is a term coined by Gayatri Spivak describing the process by

which Western discourse normalizes itself and positions other knowledge systems in

comparison and contradiction to its edicts (Chilisa & Ntseane, 2010: 618). Mishra and

Hodge (2005) identify that there is a European compulsion to confine the “Other” that

pervades (post-)colonialism. After all, (post-)colonialism is not antithetical to colonialism

at all, but represents a brand of colonialism subsequent to the brazen imperialist

colonialism of history books (Mishra & Hodge, 2005: 377). Rhetorically, (post-)

colonialism implies a shadow of colonialism or a sense of obsolescence, when in fact the

current expression of colonialism can be just as damaging to communities as the

colonialist practices of old, a slow poison that thrives on its insidious ability to position

its victims as “Other” (Mishra & Hodge, 2005: 379). Most notably, hooks advocates for

the use of the margin as a space for change-making, a place wherein marginalized groups

can galvanize those around them to reject the hierarchical structure of this concentric

model until there is no center at all (1992: 45). hooks demonstrates the ability that each of

us has to utilize the margin, the space created when those wrought from power and

privilege push the “Other” outward, in order to affect change within those spheres (1992:

45). Comparable to a bottom-up approach, this margin-to-center practice uses the unique

positionality of “Otherness” as leverage that those in the center do not have. In using an

understanding of the problems and potentials of (post-)colonialism to guide my research,

I employed a practice of deconstructive criticism that contributed towards “interrupting,

intervening, [and] opening up the discourses of the dominant, restoring plurality and

tension” (Mishra & Hodge, 2005: 386). This practice involved (1) challenging my

learned positioning of my beliefs and identities as hegemonic, against which all else

would be situated as “Other,” (2) developing an understanding of the influence of

colonialism in my research locale on scalar levels, both actual and perceived, both past

and present (3) identifying, as part of a collective effort with my partner-participants,

potential solutions to the identified daily, social, and environmental challenges from

various, concentric, marginal positionalities, and (4) working to empower participants to

continue the process of identifying and dismantling oppressive systems.

Social Natures

Much like neopositivist empiricism has imposed a dualistic separation of object and

subject in research (England, 1996: 81), so too has Western thought artificially

dichotomized concepts of nature and society (Vivieros de Castro, 1998: 473). Kovach

(2009) describes Western discourse as a “dualist binary ontology” compared against the

“nonbinary complementary dualist construct” of Indigenous cultures (Kovach, 2009: 24).

However, a divergence has arisen from this mock duality; while Western communities

may rely on the separation of nature and culture in order to define comfortable

boundaries around what is necessity and what is spontaneity, Indigenous communities

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reject this axiological model of naturalism in favor of interacting with the world in a way

that recognizes the interdependent and reciprocal relationship between who they are and

what the world around them is (Vivieros de Castro, 1998: 473). This blend of totemic and

animistic understandings is a way for communities to both define and be defined by their

environment, as culture and nature become reciprocally mirrored. England (2010)

advocates for this recognition of reciprocal and non-dualistic relationships in her

reflection on getting personal in feminist research by claiming that “the openness and

culturally constructed nature of the social world, peppered with contradictions and

complexities, needs to be embraced not dismissed” (England, 1996: 81). I used this

knowledge by recognizing that, as a product of Western discourse, I have a disposition to

dichotomize and understand the world through a binary lens. Additionally, my

understanding of what I classify as the “natural world” may have been very different than

that of my participants, and so while I asked questions that dichotomized

“environmental” and “social” challenges, participants may have answered these questions

with a hybridic or intersectional approach (see PhotoVoice Questions under Research

Questions in Section V for further details).

IV. Methodologies

As another mechanism for facilitating self-reflection and accountability, three

methodological approaches (Feminist Inquiry & Reflexivity, Indigenous Methodologies, and

Participatory Action Research) were employed. These methodologies, working in tandem with

the theoretical approaches of this study, further bolstered the structural design and

implementation of the project in critical consciousness theory. Together, the methodologies

chosen for this study held me accountable to maintaining a heightened sensitivity to the power

dynamics implicit in field work by unpacking the historical and current impacts of research

conducted in (post-)colonial settings, establishing trust through transparency and the

development of intentional partnerships, and challenging the hierarchical “researcher”-

“researched” relationship model that denies communities dignity and agency.

Feminist Inquiry & Reflexivity

Feminist theory, in a way similar to Indigenous discourses, questions the methodologies

traditionally associated with Western quantitative research and acknowledges that

research is not merely a product, but a process within which the personal is integral

(England, 1996: 82; Kovach, 2009: 25). As a result, feminist inquiry focuses on the use

of inclusive methodologies that are sensitive to the power relations pervasive in fieldwork

(England, 1996: 80). Additionally, feminist inquiry acknowledges that field research is

“inherently confrontational in that it is the purposeful disruption of other people’s lives”

(England, 1996: 85) and that the relationship between researchers and participants has

historically been “hierarchical, vertical, dominating, and exploitative” (Kesby, 2005:

2051). Sensitive to these contextual histories, feminist inquiry believes that research

participants should not be denied their humanity and treated as “mines of information”

that can be endlessly extracted by researchers (England, 1996: 82). Reflexivity, a

principle of feminist theory, refers to self-reflection in the process of interpreting and

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gleaning meaning from research (Kovach, 2009: 32-33). Using reflexivity provides an

examination of positionality and privilege in order to ensure that research methods and

methodologies are not oppressive, particularly when working with communities for

whom historical contexts are wrought with marginalization and appropriation; in

addition, reflexivity helps situate research in a (post-)colonial methodology by requiring

that researchers critically analyze the representations of Indigenous peoples and cultures

that occur through their research as vectors for public perception (Kovach, 2009: 33).

When researchers employ reflexivity, they challenge the “methodological hegemony of

neopositivist empiricism” that enforces an artificial and hierarchical separation of object

and subject in order to impose objectivity upon research (England, 1996: 81). Reflexivity

is an important component of feminist inquiry, and one that I focused on in my own

research extensively, however, I recognize that while reflexivity guided me in becoming

more aware of the “asymmetrical and exploitative” relationships that preceded me and

may have pervaded my own research experience, the ability to remove this dynamic was

entirely contingent upon my methodological approach as a whole (England, 1996: 86).

My research was wholeheartedly a process, not a product, which required being built

upon and developed with each interaction between myself and members of the Queros

community. I attempted to facilitate each of these interactions with meticulous awareness

of historical power dynamics without becoming impersonal, understanding that authentic,

honest, and dynamic relationships are integral to Indigenous as well as feminist

methodologies. Additionally, I have attempted to model the reflexivity that is zenithal to

feminist inquiry throughout this paper, and have continued to conduct self-checks of how

my positionality, my power and privilege, may be impacting my research at each stage

(see in particular Situating Self in Section II).

Indigenous methodologies

Often, intention does not equal impact for researchers working with Indigenous

communities, as illustrated by reports of biopiracy and biocolonialism (Louis &

Grossman, 2009: 2; Harry, 2011: 702). According to Linda Tuhiwai Smith, research is

one of the “dirtiest” words in Indigenous communities’ vocabularies (cited in Kovach,

2009: 24). While this is contextualized by experiences of colonialism in the past, it is also

reinforced by the modern manifestations of extractive research methods carried out by

researchers who rarely return results to communities or ensure a mutual benefit (Datta et

al., 2014: 12). Many Indigenous stories have been pushed aside by globalization, the new

colonialism, which attempts to purport capitalism, modernism, and Western science as

singular truths (Johnson, 2010: 1). Research can divide Indigenous communities along

lines of support, which is eerily reminiscent of colonial “divide and conquer” tactics

(Louis & Grossman, 2009: 2). Context influences the perception of researchers and their

research, and in South America, small communities have become wary of researchers

from the United States who, especially when their research is institutionally funded, are

seen as an extension of the government that on one hand shows a vested interest in

researching their cultures and knowledge while simultaneously funding weapons for

suppressive government regimes in their countries (Louis & Grossman, 2009: 3). As a

researcher from the United States who received financial and logistical support from an

organization (The School for Field Studies), I felt a need to situate myself within this

Cullen 17

context so that I could actively try to unravel the colonial history (i.e. short-term “smash-

and-grab” ethnographies) of research with Indigenous communities by forming

meaningful and mutually beneficial relationships (Kovach, 2009: 28). Additionally, as a

non-Indigenous researcher, I acknowledge that I could not fully understand or implement

Indigenous perspectives and methodologies (Datta et al., 2014: 2). However, in

conducting research with Indigenous community members, I had several responsibilities,

which included building relationships with the community that transcended the temporal

boundaries of my research and empowering participants, which worked in tandem to

subvert the traditional “researcher” and “researched” hierarchy (Datta et al., 2014: 2 &

Kesby, 2005: 2051). I also recognized relational and spiritual knowledge in conjunction

with acknowledging my own identities as a researcher so that any biases I may have held

against non-Western knowledge sets could be exploited and challenged. In an effort to

intentionally establish trust with members of a community that have historically not had

access to research findings, I returned data to the community and allowed for revisions to

be made (Datta et al., 2014: 2; Louis & Grossman, 2009: 5; Marie-Isabel Dumas, pers.

comm., April 8, 2016). Before any research was conducted, I relayed the benefits of the

project (both for myself and for the community) very clearly to each participant in order

to make sure that no one felt taken advantage of, frustrations were minimized, and all

parties could work towards achieving personal and communal goals through our research

as a vector for change (Marie-Isabel Dumas, pers. comm., April 8, 2016). This led to

recognition of the fact that I was conducting research “with” and “for,” not “on,”

members of a community, and an acknowledgement that I could not profess results as

any set truth, but merely the outcome of my experiential relationship with the research

(Delemos, 2006: 330 & Wilson, 2008: 110).

Participatory Action Research (PAR)

Participatory Action Research (PAR) reflects a collaborative process of relationality in

which both researchers and participants receive clear benefits and the researcher is

afforded insight into a community’s needs (Datta, et al., 2014: 2). PAR emphasizes the

connection between research and action that breeds a cogeneration of knowledge between

researchers and participants and usually involves a partnership between these parties

(Fletcher, MacPhee& Dickson, 2015: 1-2). PAR intentionally acknowledges the

historically racialized relationship between “researchers” and “researched,” especially

among Indigenous communities where white researchers have exploited traditional

knowledge for personal or scientific gain (Delemos, 2006: 330). With this historical

context in mind, one should be conscientious of maintaining a careful balance between

academic rigor and a faithfulness to experiential knowledges and the goals identified by

participants (Fletcher et al., 2015: 1). Additionally, in using PAR, I had to understand the

contextual history through which the systematic coding systems used in non-relational

methodologies has undermined Indigenous Knowledges (Datta et al., 2014: 2). Although

PAR helps to streamline the identification of a community’s issues and is often situated

in contexts where change can occur, creating clear benefits for participants with limited

time, it also requires the time of participants who typically have little to spare, which may

inhibit the ability or inclination of some to participate (Fletcher et al., 2015: 2). In my

research with members of a rural, low-income community engaged in time and labor

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intensive jobs, I was cognizant of how much time I asked people to sacrifice in order to

participate in the study. Additionally, PAR works in conjunction with both feminist and

Indigenous methodologies by dictating the necessity of fair and reciprocal relationships

with clearly defined, mutual benefits. Using PAR further challenges the pervasive

hegemony of institutionalized discrimination (i.e. racism and Indigenous “Othering”),

and allows for research that empowers participants through doing away with hierarchical

researcher-researched configurations (Kesby, 2005 in Datta et al., 2014: 11; Smith, 1999

in Nahuelpan, 2006: 7).

V. Research Design & Methods

In this political ecology study, I spoke with former and current members of the Queros

Indigenous community located in the Kosnipata Valley of Peru. Together, we explored their

perceptions of the challenges present in their daily lives, including the most pressing

environmental and social concerns facing the Pilcopata community. The goal of this research,

designed to work in a collaborative, mutually-beneficial relationship with past and present

Queros community members, was to develop feasible, innovative, and ameliorative solutions to

the problems identified in this study.

Throughout this research, I utilized four primary methods to obtain and interpret data

from members of the Queros community living or working in Pilcopata: PhotoVoice, a focus

group, community surveying, and personal interviews. It is my belief that PhotoVoice was the

best primary research method for my study because it provided a mechanism of voice for a

historically marginalized and silenced community while simultaneously creating deliverables (in

the form of photographs) that could be used to convey the results of the study to people

regardless of their level of literacy. The information gleaned from using PhotoVoice was further

enhanced and contextualized through conducting a focus group, community surveys, and

individual interviews, which held me accountable as the researcher for ensuring that the intent of

the participant was understood and communicated accurately.

Between all stages of the study, 7 individuals participated in this research. Some

connections to these individuals currently existed through staff members of the School for Field

Studies (SFS) and the Asociación para la Conservación de la Cuenca Amazónica (ACCA), which

were expanded upon concentrically as I asked participants who they recommended as other

participants for the study. In the PhotoVoice stage, I asked each participant to take as many

photographs as they thought necessary to express their thoughts and concerns, but specified that

they should strive to include approximately five per question, for a total of fifteen photos. All

photographs displayed in this paper were taken by participants, and no photographs that could

compromise the anonymity of participants were used. While the PhotoVoice component of this

project was ultimately deemed successful, some challenges with photographs arose, including

homogeneity of subject matter captured by some participants, too few photographs taken by

some participants, and an inability of some participants to travel to certain locations to capture

photographs of specific challenges they observed.

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The goal of the focus group was to gather together as many of the participants’ voices as

possible, with the target number of focus group participants being equal to the amount of

PhotoVoice participants. Several challenges with gathering participants for the focus group

arose, such as getting participants to show up after having committed their attendance and

reaching some participants, who were out of cellular range while in Queros. For these reasons,

the focus group stage was supplemented by community surveys, which used PhotoVoice data as

a means to rank the top daily, environmental, and social challenges facing Pilcopata (for a copy

of the survey sheets, see Appendix 2). Challenges with the community survey stage included

working with community members’ schedules, which prompted the incorporation of the survey

into the beginning of personal interviews in order to minimize the intrusiveness of the study by

reducing the number of separate meetings arranged between myself and the participants.

In personal interviews, participants were asked to discuss prospective solutions for the

top daily, environmental, and social problems identified through the community survey

questions. Additionally, participants were specifically asked about potential research projects

that could be carried out by future SFS students. Intentionality was placed upon clarifying that

SFS would not be immediately addressing the problems identified through this research, but that

the project was designed to facilitate community conversations about how to address challenges

in daily, environmental, and social realms through collective action.

PhotoVoice

As my primary method, I utilized PhotoVoice, a process developed by Wang and Burris

(1994, 1997) and bolstered by Freirean theories of critical consciousness (Sanon, Evans-

Agnew& Boutain, 2014: 212). By giving individuals and communities access to cameras,

this method provided a stage upon which community discussions and empowerment

could take place (Sanon et al., 2014: 212). Through PhotoVoice, strengths and

weaknesses of communities can be identified and addressed, with some results from

PhotoVoice studies being used to address the larger policy aims of a community (Sanon

et al., 2014: 212). Additionally, PhotoVoice allows for different ideas to be expressed

than those that would be derived through written or oral methods (Datta, et al., 2014: 9).

Photographs of a community allow people to know what resources they possess, the

relationships and importance of these resources, as well components of their environment

that are not seen regularly (Marie-Isabel Dumas, pers. comm., April 8, 2016). Ideally,

PhotoVoice also employs principles of Participatory Action Research (PAR), such as

involving participants in all aspects of research, which were applied in this study (Sanon

et al., 2014: 221). PAR recognizes the racialized power dynamics that have been evident

in research with many marginalized groups, and PhotoVoice as a method allows for this

relationship to be subverted as all people, regardless of level of literacy (which has stark

statistical differences globally due to racialized institutions), can participate (Delemos,

2006: 330). An emphasis on a cogeneration of knowledge, fundamental to feminist,

Indigenous, and PAR methodologies, also pervades PhotoVoice due to the self-directed

and empowering means through which participants dictate the discussions that take place

during and following the study based on the photographs they choose to take (Fletcher et

al., 2015: 1-2). Historical contexts, while integral to political ecology work, are often

painful reminders of colonialism and other oppressive forces (Bell, 2015: 504). As

Cullen 20

Mishra & Hodge (2005) poignantly acknowledge, “history is not some contingent,

endlessly deferred, and nonfoundational language game; it has real, foundational value in

the lives of the recently emancipated” (375-376). PhotoVoice allows participants to

discuss topics that may painfully involve historically contextual meaning without having

to vocalize or relive certain situations. Additional care was taken when using PhotoVoice

as a method in this study, however, to ensure that I, as the researcher employing

PhotoVoice, was cognizant of its roots in critical consciousness theory and social justice

practice (Sanon et al., 2014: 213).

PhotoVoice was originally intended to address three primary components of

social justice that were built into its purpose. These components can be identified as the

proliferation of social justice awareness (an ongoing process requiring continuous

scrutiny), social justice amelioration (immediate responses to instances of oppression),

and transformative action that challenges oppression at its origins and prompts systemic

review (Sanon et al., 2014: 214-215). Social justice, or more specifically environmental

justice, can be referred to as the equitable distribution of burdens and benefits across

society and should serve as the midpoint that PAR is concentrically built around (Sanon

et al., 2014: 214). In this particular study, PhotoVoice was used to capture what Queros

community members living and working in Pilcopata witness as the most pressing daily,

environmental, and social concerns, especially as they impact their community at large.

This goal aimed to provide a space for community members to raise awareness about the

social and environmental concerns facing their community so that short- and long-term

solutions could be developed as part of a collaborative process. As demonstrated by the

data from Community Surveys and Personal Interviews, racism and discrimination

against Indigenous peoples were noted as challenges that impact the problems identified

as most pressing, such as Health Care (see Figures 9A, 9B, and 9C in Results in Section

VII).

Participants in this study were asked to take fifteen photographs addressing three

questions, with a target number of five photographs per question. The questions were

designed to inquire about personal, environmental, and social challenges facing the

population of Pilcopata from the perspective of the participant, and the wording of the

questions was consistent across research (past and concurrent) conducted with other

subpopulations of Pilcopata in order to maintain comparability (see PhotoVoice

Questions in Research Questions section below for the exact wording of questions in

both Spanish and English). Participants without a personal camera were provided with a

camera and given a period of time conducive with their personal and work schedules to

take the photographs. Upon collection of the photographs from participants, an initial

analysis was conducted in which the participant was asked to identify the issues captured

in the photographs and to briefly elaborate on each one. A translator was present to aid in

this process, and notes were taken by the researcher. Additionally, participants were

reminded of their anonymity in the study as well as the security procedures for storing

their photographs (see Appendix 1 for an example of this dialogue).

Six Queros community members, past and present, participated in this stage, with

the gender ratio of women (4 participants) and men (2 participants) being 2:1. In total, 74

Cullen 21

photographs were captured in this stage, with the average number of photographs taken

being about 12 (photographs identified by participants as not being intended for the

project, such as photographs of their families, were not included in these figures).

However, the spread of photographs was vast, with one participant taking just 1 photo

and two participants capturing 21 photographs.

Focus Group

Following the collection of the photos, an invitation was extended to participants to join

in a focus group in which their photos would aid in a discussion of the most pressing

daily life, environmental, and social issues identified by each participant so that

commonalities and distinctions between the individual and collective voice could be

discovered. From a data collection perspective, the focus group was used to gather

contextual and compounding information that provided a better understanding of the

social and environmental challenges and concerns faced by the community. Often, people

may be looking at or experiencing the same challenge while simultaneously approaching

it from different vantage points, which when brought together in an arena such as a focus

group yield a more complete image (Wilson, 2008: 112). By organizing a focus group,

researchers can attempt to avoid any instances of this communicative disjuncture, where

participants are talking about the same topic but from different perspectives or with

different aims. Additionally, focus groups confront the traditional researcher-subject

duality by providing spaces of flexibility within which a reciprocal learning relationship

can be developed (Wilson, 2008: 113).

In this study, two focus groups were organized. The first focus group received

zero attendees, which prompted the scheduling of the second focus group, which was

attended by one PhotoVoice participant and their partner, new to the project. Photographs

gleaned from participants’ time with the camera were used to spark conversation and

provide contextual points of reference. The photographs displayed at the focus group

meeting were chosen by the researcher (myself) based on the number of images received

from each participant as well as the uniformity of their content so that diverse

representations of environmental and social challenges were displayed. The photographs

were categorized into thirteen thematic topics, with specific problems identified within

each theme being explained to the attendees as examples. In order to recognize and check

my own biases, as well as ensure that information was not taken out of context, I asked

other researchers also engaged in PhotoVoice work with Pilcopata subpopulations to aid

in the photograph selection process (Wilson, 2008: 114). Focus group participants were

asked to collectively select and rank three photographs representing the most pressing

daily life concerns, three photographs representing the top environmental concerns, and

three photographs representing the most pressing social concerns faced by the community

before further discussing the contexts, impacts, and implications of these challenges. In

conjunction with community surveying and personal interviews, my final two methods

for this study, the focus group facilitated continuous feedback with research participants

and allowed for a system in which community members could verify authenticity of

analyses and provide elaborations that improved the ease and accuracy of data synthesis

(Wilson, 2008: 112). The focus group lasted ninety minutes.

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Due to the low number of participants in this stage of the project, it was

determined that community surveying (originally not included in the research design of

this study) was needed in order to better capture the communal voice. Interestingly, both

attendees of the second focus group identified time and responsibility related challenges

as being the most pressing problem in their daily lives, which was likely a challenge for

many participants which inhibited their ability to join the focus group.

Community Surveying

Community surveying was conducted in order to glean a snapshot of the community’s

feelings regarding the most pressing daily life, environmental, and social challenges

facing Pilcopata. With participants who agreed to contribute through the personal

interview stage, this survey was conducted at the beginning of the interview to minimize

the amount of separate occurrences that participants were asked to sacrifice their time.

Participants were shown three pieces of paper containing photographs taken by

PhotoVoice participants, one for each question addressed in the PhotoVoice stage, and

were provided with photograph summaries. Between them, the pages displayed

photographs representing all thirteen thematic topics identified by PhotoVoice

participants, with four categories for daily life, three categories for environmental

problems, and six categories for social challenges. In total, 6 participants (3 male and 3

female) participated in this stage.

After having the three categories and the problems identified within each

explained to them, participants in this stage were asked to rank the first, second, and third

most pressing concerns in each category according to their perspective. Problems ranked

as the first most important in each category (daily, environmental, and social) were

allocated 15 points in a raw data scoring analysis, while problems identified as the second

most pressing concerns were allocated 10 points and the third most important challenges

were allocated 5 points. This point system multiplied the number of responses identifying

problems as the first, second, or third most important problems by their assigned values

to calculate a numerical depiction of the weight given to each named challenge facing the

population of Pilcopata. Percentages for these raw scores were then calculated by

dividing the raw score by the total number of points available, which were 180 (6

participants * 30 points available per participant). Proportional values were also

calculated for the percentages of participants identifying problems as the first, second,

and third most important (i.e. number of participants identifying problem as most

important ∕ number of participants total).

Personal Interviews

In employing the use of personal interviews, I allowed additional time for clarifying and

building context, elaborating upon ideas, and recognizing thematic patterns between

participants (Wilson, 2008: 112). Additionally, small group interactions (in this study,

personal interviews were conducted between myself, a translator, and the participant)

allowed for information to be discussed that may not have occurred in larger group

Cullen 23

settings such as a focus group. For examples of questions that were asked in personal

interviews, please refer to the “Research Questions” section below. The target time for

interviews in this study was forty-five minutes, with a fifteen minute buffer zone to

account for time lost during translations from Spanish to English and vice versa. A total

of 6 participants (3 male and 3 female) participated through personal interviews, and

discussions were centered around solutions to the problems identified in the PhotoVoice

and Community Survey stages of the study.

VI. Research Questions

Questions asked in each stage of this study were designed to facilitate positive, non-interrogatory

interactions with participants. The questions in each stage were intended to elaborate upon

information gleaned from prior stages, addressing any ambiguity in participants’ responses and

further situating their answers in contextual understanding.

PhotoVoice Questions

Numbers indicate the order in which these questions were consistently communicated to

participants.

(1) Muéstreme por favor las dificultades que encuentras en la vida cotidiana.

(Please show me what difficulties you face in your daily life.)

(2) ¿Cuales son las principales problemas ambientales que enfrenta la población

de Pilcopata? (What are the greatest environmental problems that face the

population of Pilcopata?)

(3) ¿Cuales son las principales problemas ambientales que enfrenta la población

de Pilcopata? (What are the greatest social problems that face the population of

Pilcopata?)

Examples of questions asked during camera retrieval

Please elaborate upon the photographs you took. Why do you see these pictures as

representative of the daily life, environmental, and social challenges facing

Pilcopata?

Please tell me about your life in Pilcopata. For example, what do you do for

work? Do you have a family? What is your favorite part about living in Pilcopata?

Were there any problems (daily, environmental, or social) that you were unable to

photograph for any reason?

Examples of questions asked during the Focus Group

As a group, please identify the three photos that represent the most pressing

environmental or social concerns faced by your community.

What circumstances (political, economic, etc.) have led to these issues arising?

When did you first notice these challenges and how do they compare with stories

you may have heard about the generations preceding you?

Cullen 24

Examples of questions asked during Community Surveys

Please rank the first, second, and third most pressing issues facing the population

of Pilcopata from these problems identified by participants as daily life

challenges.

What are some ways in which the community of Pilcopata could work to address

these daily life challenges?

Please rank the first, second, and third most pressing issues facing the population

of Pilcopata from these problems identified by participants as environmental

challenges.

What are some ways in which the community of Pilcopata could work to address

these environmental challenges?

Please rank the first, second, and third most pressing issues facing the population

of Pilcopata from these problems identified by participants as social challenges.

What are some ways in which the community of Pilcopata could work to address

these social challenges?

Examples of questions asked during Personal Interviews

What languages do you speak? How long have you spoken them?

What needs to happen for these problems to be mitigated?

What do you think are some next steps for your community to address these

problems?

How could SFS provide further assistance through future research projects?

VII. Results

PhotoVoice

All six PhotoVoice participants (100%) identified problems thematically related to

“Transportation and Roads” (Figure 3). A total of 17 transportation and road related challenges

were named, with issues pertaining to road conditions constituting 37.5% of responses and being

named by 83.33% of participants (Figure 4). Geographical and topographical barriers, such as

rivers and distance from services and jobs, also constituted 37.5% of responses, but were named

by only 33.33% of participants. Other transportation and road related challenges noted included

personal transportation needs, such as the acquisition of a vehicle, and accidents. One

participant’s depiction of road conditions can be seen in Figure 5.

Cullen 25

Figure 3. Percentage of PhotoVoice participants identifying problems in each of thirteen main themes. “Daily Life”

themes are represented in shades of orange, “Environmental” themes in shades of green, and “Social” themes in

shades of purple.

Figure 4. Percentage of PhotoVoice participant responses (# of individual challenges identified by participants

pertaining to each subtheme) for subthemes within “Transportation and Roads,” with “n” being the number of

participants identifying each subtheme.

83

.33

%

50

.00

%

33

.33

%

33

.33

%

50

.00

%

66

.67

%

33

.33

%

66

.67

%

33

.33

%

66

.67

%

33

.33

%

16

.67

%

10

0.0

0%

Per

cen

tage

(%)

of

par

tici

pan

ts

Percentage (%) of PhotoVoice participants identifying themes pertaining to Daily Life, Environmental, and Social

challenges in Pilcopata, Peru

Time/Jobs/Responsibility/Child Care Poverty/Lack of economic mobility Pets/Domesticated Animals

Public Services

Land and Resource Use

Trash and Waste Management

Climate Change

Health/Health Care

Violence/Bullying/Abuse

Education

Drugs/Substance Abuse

Cultural Change/Loss

Transportation/Roads

n = 2

n = 5 n = 2

n = 1

0.00%

5.00%

10.00%

15.00%

20.00%

25.00%

30.00%

35.00%

40.00%

Personal transportation

needs (i.e. motorbike)

Road conditions (lack of pavement,

dust, puddles, waste)

Geographic and topographic

barriers (rivers, distance)

Accidents

Cullen 26

Figure 5. Photograph of road conditions in Pilcopata, Peru.

In total, 66.67% of PhotoVoice participants identified problems with “Health/Health

Care” in Pilcopata (Figure 3). “Health/Health Care” related difficulties accounted for 10.98% of

all responses given by participants (Figure 6). In addition, 50% of the participants identifying

“Health/Health Care” related problems named quality of care issues (speed of service, attention

and interest of the health workers, and experience and speciality level of the staff), road-related

health risks (accidents and the continued inhalation of road dust), and water (access crisis and

inconsistent chlorination treatment) to be major concerns (Figure 7). Additionally, issues with

economic and geographical access to health centers and services for aging and elderly people

were noted as challenges faced by the community. The Centro de Salud, the health facility in

Pilcopata, can be seen in Figure 8.

Cullen 27

Figure 6. Percentage of PhotoVoice participant responses as categorized by theme. Results were calculated as the

number of times participants mentioned or photographed issues in particular themes divided by the total number of

problems identified where n = 82.

Figure 7. Percentage of PhotoVoice participants identifying subthemes within Health and Heath Care related

concerns. Percentages were calculated in relation to the number of participants identifying Health and Health Care

problems, not the total number of participants in this study.

13.41%

10.98%

2.44%

3.66%

7.32%

13.41%

2.44%

10.98%

3.66%

4.88%

4.88%

1.22%

20.73%

Percentage (%) of PhotoVoice participant responses by theme Time/Jobs/Responsibility/Child Care Poverty/Lack of economic mobility Pets/Domesticated Animals

Public Services

Land and Resource Use

Trash and Waste Management

Climate Change

Health/Health Care

Violence/Bullying/Abuse

Education

Drugs/Substance Abuse

Cultural Change/Loss

Transportation and Roads

11.11%

22.22%

11.11% 33.33%

22.22%

Access barriers (economic, geographic)

Quality of care (speed, attention, experience of staff)

Services for the elderly and aging

Road-related health risks (accidents, dust)

Water (access, safety)

Cullen 28

Figure 8. Photograph of the “Centro de Salud” in Pilcopata, Peru.

Community Surveys

Six participants contributed their perspectives in the community survey phase. Of the 13

themes that participants were asked to rank their top three from, 4 pertained to “Daily Life”

concerns, 3 pertained to “Environmental” concerns, and 6 pertained to “Social” concerns.

36.66% of the available 180 points for “Social” concerns were allocated to challenges with

“Time, Responsibility, Work, and Child Care,” which corresponded with 66.67% of participants

identifying challenges within this theme as the first most important daily life problem (Figure

9A). Participants named balancing work and the ability to care for children as the core of why

this was the top problem in their daily lives. The remaining 33.33% of participants named

“Public Services,” specifically poor water quality and access, as the second most pressing daily

life concern, with 27.78% (50) of the available points.

Cullen 29

Daily Life

1 = 15 points, 2 = 10 points, 3 = 5 points Public Services

Poverty/Limited Economic Mobility

Domestic Animals

Time/Responsibility/Jobs/Child Care

1 (most important)

2 4

2 (2nd most important)

1 3 2

3 (3rd most important)

2 1 2 1

SCORE (RAW) 50 35 30 65

SCORE (%) out of 180

27.78% 19.44% 16.67% 36.11%

% participants identifying as most important (out of 6)

33.33% 0.00% 0.00% 66.67%

% participants identifying as 2nd most important (out of 6)

16.67% 50.00% 33.33% 0.00%

% participants identifying as 3rd most important (out of 6)

33.33% 16.67% 33.33% 16.67%

AVERAGE % 27.78% 22.22% 22.22% 27.78%

Figure 9A. “Daily Life” data from Community Survey phase.

While “Climate Change” was named as the most important environmental challenge by

50% of participants, all three themes for this question received an average of 33.33% of

responses across the labels of first, second, and third most important (Figure 9B). “Climate

Change” related challenges, which were centered around challenges with public perception

regarding Pilcopata and similar small, rural communities, received 36.11% of the available 180

points compared to the 38.89% received by issues with “Trash/Waste Management,” which were

often noted as causes of climate change.

Cullen 30

Environmental

1 = 15 points, 2 = 10 points, 3 = 5 points Climate Change

Trash/Waste Management Land and Resource Use

1 (most important) 3 2 1

2 (2nd most important) 1 4 1

3 (3rd most important) 2 4

SCORE (RAW) 65 70 45

SCORE (%) out of 180 36.11% 38.89% 25.00%

% participants identifying as most important (out of 6)

50.00% 33.33% 16.67%

% participants identifying as 2nd most important (out of 6)

16.67% 66.67% 16.67%

% participants identifying as 3rd most important (out of 6)

33.33% 0.00% 66.67%

AVERAGE % 33.33% 33.33% 33.33%

Figure 9B. “Environmental” data from Community Survey phase.

Receiving 65 points (36.11%), “Health/Health Care” related challenges were named as

the first most pressing social concern by 50% of participants and as the second most important

social concern by 33.33% of participants. The main concerns with health and health care that led

to this result were quality of care issues such as a lack of experienced staff and racism affecting

service time and costs. “Education” was determined to be the second most important theme for

this question, amassing 40 points and being named by an average of 22.22% of participants

across primary, secondary, and tertiary rankings. Despite its overwhelming mention in the

PhotoVoice stage, “Transportation and Roads” received only 5 of the available 180 points for

social concerns, with no participants naming it as the first or second most important social

concern and 16.67% of participants assigning it third (Figure 9C).

Cullen 31

Social

1 = 15 points, 2 = 10 points, 3 = 5 points

Health/Health Care

Drugs and

Alcohol Transportation

and Roads Violence/Bullying/Abuse Education Cultural

Change/Loss

1 (most important)

3 1 1 1

2 (2nd most important)

2 1 1 2

3 (3rd most important)

1 1 1 1 2

SCORE 65 30 5 30 40 10

SCORE (%) out of 180

36.11% 16.67% 2.78% 16.67% 22.22% 5.56%

% participants identifying as most important (out of 6)

50.00% 16.67% 0.00% 16.67% 16.67% 0.00%

% participants identifying as 2nd most important (out of 6)

33.33% 16.67% 0.00% 16.67% 33.33% 0.00%

% participants identifying as 3rd most important (out of 6)

0.00% 16.67% 16.67% 16.67% 16.67% 33.33%

AVERAGE % 27.78% 16.67% 5.56% 16.67% 22.22% 11.11%

Figure 9C. “Social” data from Community Survey phase.

VIII. Discussion

Daily Life Concerns

The allocation of time between work and child care, as well as the availability of well-

paying jobs for women and Indigenous peoples, are some of the most challenging aspects of

daily life for Queros community members. Women work up to 20% more hours than men, and

unlike men who work the same amount of hours regardless of their income, women from poorer

households work more hours than those from wealthier ones (Ilahi, 2001: 3). Driven by a culture

Cullen 32

in which men see the domestic as emasculating, women are also responsible for managing the

majority of child care (Fuller, 2000: 96). Due to the stresses associated with working more hours

and being the primary caregivers for children, participating in this delicate dance of earning

income while being available for children is difficult for women even when they have partners,

but becomes even more challenging when relationship struggles or spousal death leave either

partner as a single parent. Possible solutions to these challenges were named, such as a child day

care center and the adoption of programs such as those seen in the highlands in which families

receive monthly stipends of 150 soles per child per month.

The second most pressing daily life problem identified by participants regarded public

services, specifically the inequitable access to and quality of water. The associated stress and

necessary maintenance of water at the household level affects the time use of both men and

women in Peru (Ilahi, 2001: 3). Despite 100% of rural households in Peru having operational

taps (Whittington, Davis, Prokopy, Komives, Thorsten, et al., 2009: 705), there is still a crisis

related to who has access to water in communities like Pilcopata. In rural settings, 61% of

Peruvian households identified that they were satisfied with the water system, but the remaining

39% of households are receiving substandard access to water (Whittington et al., 2009: 705). In

Pilcopata, participants identified people’s lack of knowledge about water as a limited resource

and the subsequent overuse of the resource as reasoning for why some areas of town consistently

receive water and others do not. Specifically, when community members leave taps running, the

water pressure drops too low to reach homes in certain areas of town. Participants identified

several solutions to this problem, including working with non-governmental organizations

(NGOs) for financial and logistical support, instituting bans on washing heavy materials with

municipal water in the dry season, updating the water infrastructure, having the medical staff test

water safety, installing a consistent and reliable treatment system, and educational campaigns. In

the past, NGOs such as Sanbasur have worked in Peru in order to connect local governments

with other organizations that can provide economic support (Whittington et al., 2009: 708).

While rural Peruvians pay just $0.66 per month for water (and only 77% of households actually

pay this cost), lack of economic resources is a major challenge for rural communities, and

investing additional money from personal finances in order to improve water quality and access

or update infrastructural systems is simply not an option for many (Whittington et al., 2009:

706). Educational campaigns to raise awareness about the responsible use of water resources

could also be facilitated by NGOs, which could ameliorate the immediate impacts of inadequate

water access while larger scale policy reforms and fundraising for infrastructural updates are

conducted. Ideally, remedying the challenges associated with basic public services such as water

will free up time for community members to locate well-paying work and care for their children.

Environmental Concerns

Environmental problems identified in Pilcopata were admittedly intertwined, according to

participants, as the contamination caused by irresponsible waste and land management was noted

as having exacerbated the affects of climate change. Interestingly, many participants indicated

that larger nations and corporations were responsible for the majority of global contamination,

and yet small, rural communities such as Pilcopata and Indigenous groups such as those from

Queros receive the most blame because of practices that are more obvious in their environmental

destruction, such as the deforestation and burning associated with rotational agriculture. Thus,

Cullen 33

climate change had become a threat for the Indigenous community members of Queros on

multiple fronts, affecting health and agriculture as well as posing a threat to their already

fragmented culture by positioning it as problematic. Due to the interconnected nature of these

environmental problems, solutions were also largely interdisciplinary in their approach.

Educational campaigns, about the responsible use of resources, the importance of dissolving

habits of littering, and the preservation of culture as well as reforestation projects were identified

as being needed. Others were less convinced that climate change could be mitigated or reversed,

remarking on how small they were and how little influence they had to address a problem set out

upon a global stage.

Social Concerns

In addition to a lack of jobs in general, finding work for members of Indigenous

communities is made even more challenging by current manifestations of colonialism, such as

racism. One’s Indigeneity is seen as a threat to their socioeconomic status, and many Indigenous

people are forced to relinquish their languages and cultures in order to better position themselves

with the hegemonic groups who are more likely to receive well-paying positions that lessen the

burden of balancing work and child care (Patrinos & Psacharopoulos, 1997: 391). In Peru,

language is a large determinant of status (Patrinos & Psacharopoulos, 1997: 390). As a result,

Spanish-speaking European descendants are at the apex of the social pyramid, with mostly-

Spanish speaking mestizos following after and being positioned above the cholos (a derogatory

term used to describe Spanish-speaking Indigenous people) (Patrinos & Psacharopoulos, 1997:

391). At the bottom are monolingual Indigenous language speakers (Patrinos & Psacharopoulos,

1997: 391). A study of Peru’s population in 1963 indicated the racially distributed income of the

country, revealing that whites, which represented a tiny 0.1% of the population, received 20% of

the national income while mestizos (20% of the population) received 53% of the income, cholos

(23% of the population) received 14% of the income, and the Indigenous population, despite

representing 57% of the population, received just 13% of the total national (Patrinos &

Psacharopoulos, 1997: 391).

This discrimination, identified by participants as impacting the availability of work, was

also noted as a barrier to receiving adequate health care. One participant, in a spell of flustered

bewilderment, reported that if you are Indigenous, or you do not have money, and you become

injured or ill, you will die. Compounding factors of racism, classism, and a lack of adequate

resources at health centers leads to inequitably and unethically allocated care. As illustrated by

this one participant, one’s Indigeneity and poverty synergize to position them as “Other” in such

a way that jeopardizes their wellbeing.

The quality and distribution of staffing for health centers in rural areas is a considerable

challenge for most developing countries, however, Peru is one of only a few Latin American

countries to be considered in the midst of a human resources of health (HRH) crisis, largely due

to its inequitable distribution of health workers and density of these workers below 2.3 per

10,000 people (Huicho, Miranda, Diez-Canseco, et al., 2012: 2; Miranda, Diez-Canseco, Lema,

et al., 2012: 1). In Lima, the capital of Peru, the density of nurses is 3.59 per 10,000 people

(Huicho et al., 2012: 2), and the density of doctors is 7.7 per 10,000 (Miranda et al., 2012: 1).

However, in Andean and Amazonian regions such as the Kosnipata Valley, the density of nurses

Cullen 34

is well below 3.59, with the density of doctors below 4 or even 2 (Miranda et al., 2012: 1;

Huicho et al., 2012: 2). Despite efforts by the Peruvian Ministry of Health to increase the number

of health workers (doctors, nurses, midwives, and nurse technicians) in the poorest rural areas,

there is a long road to incentivizing this shift to a more equitable density distribution (Huicho et

al., 2012: 2). Doctors demonstrated a preference for urban jobs 5 times higher than that for rural

jobs, with urban job preference for nurses almost tripling this figure at a value 14.7 times higher

than their preference for rural posts (Miranda et al., 2012: 3; Huicho et al., 2012: 6). To even

entertain the idea of an equitable distribution of doctors in Peru, 24% would require relocation

(Miranda et al., 2012: 1). In spite of these challenges, discrete choice experiments conducted by

Huicho et al. (2012) and Miranda et al. (2012) indicated that nurses would be 68.5% more likely

to choose a rural post when the position was at a health center offering a 75% salary increase, a

guaranteed permanent position4 after two years, and a scholarship for specialization training and

that doctors would be similarly (56%) more likely to accept a rural job when offered the same

salary increase and position permanency guarantee as well as an increased chance of being

accepted into further training programs.

For Pilcopata, government programs that incentivize the redistribution of health worker

density could be critical in providing people with adequate, affordable, and accessible care. If

these financial and non-financial incentives are to be effective, however, they must be

implemented not as piecemeal benefits, but as bundles that transform the opinion of healthcare

workers who regard rural areas as disadvantageous for their families and careers (Huicho et al.,

2012: 7). Participants specifically identified changing the culture of Pilcopata to be more

welcoming to outsiders, the use of Indigenous and traditional healing practices alongside

Western science (“chemicals”), absorbing costs of ambulances into municipal budgets, and

incentivizing rural health care jobs by raising salaries as possible solutions to the many

challenges associated with health care that community members face. Due to the inconvenience

and exorbitant costs associated with having to travel to Cusco or other areas with better health

care, participants were hopeful that more services and experienced workers could be brought to

Pilcopata so that they could receive curative rather than palliative care.

IX. Conclusions

Each of the daily life, environmental, and social problems identified in this study

represent origins rather than endings. This research was intended to galvanize Queros

community members living and working in Pilcopata to engage in collective action to mitigate

their struggles and develop solutions, both short- and long-term. Notably, many participants in

this study acknowledged that the Queros community is currently engaged in a cultural

revitalization effort which is attempting to recovering disappearing languages, encourage

members to return to living full-time on the property, and salvage a crumbling educational

4 As of 2007, 39.5% of doctors, nurses, midwives, and nurse technicians in Peru were employed under contracts

ranging from three months to a year, which could be withdrawn by the employer (which in many cases is the State)

at will (Huicho et al., 2012: 2). Compared to these contratados, nombrados (health workers with a stable job

providing benefits such as paid holidays, social security, and a retirement fund) made up 60.5% of the healthcare

workforce in 2007 (Huicho et al., 2012: 2).

Cullen 35

infrastructure. The development of adequate, well-paying jobs nearby and the acquisition of

funding to build more homes for community members will be crucial to the success of this effort.

Additionally, this study was designed to facilitate and further contribute to a body of

research on the challenges facing Pilcopata, Peru from different perspectives. Supplementary

research is needed in order to determine the best ways to address the challenges identified in this

study so that relationships with Queros community members that have been historically rooted in

colonialism, imperialism, and racially-“justified” inequity can be prevented in the future. In

order to ensure that the futures of Queros community members and Pilcopata are bright and

traditionally marginalized voices continue to be amplified, projects and partnerships should be

developed in order to implement community-driven solutions, including those given by

participants in this research.

X. Acknowledgements

For struggling with me against the great tide that is “Peruvian Time,” I would like to extend my

warmest thanks to Nicole Wischlinski, my primary translator and partner in this endeavor.

Amidst the busiest of schedules, her willingness to share her knowledge of and connections in

Pilcopata provided me with tangible places to begin in what would have otherwise been an (even

more) daunting process. To others who aided in making this project possible through translation

support, especially Brielle Seitelman, Tania Romero Bautista, and Kira Faller, I am incredibly

thankful. I would also have been lost without the constant feedback and advice of Katie

MacDonald, Ph.D.5 Her meticulous eye made the concluding version of this paper possible, and

her unwavering faith in this project pushed me to persist even when circumstances looked

dismal. My home institution, Champlain College, is also to thank for instilling in me a desire to

explore, to dare. I am forever grateful for their support, financial and logistical, in making this

experience not only a possibility, but a reality. The endless love and encouragement of my

family and friends was much needed throughout this project, in sickness and in health, and I

dedicate this work to them in hopes that they will be inspired to find adventures and cavernous

curiosities of their own.

5 This one’s for you, Katie.

Cullen 36

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Appendices

1. Oral Consent

Hello! Thank you very much for your time in meeting with me today. I greatly

appreciate your willingness to help me in my studies. My name is Dylan, and I am a

current student in the United States studying environmental policy with the School for

Field Studies based at Villa Carmen. This research is very important to me because of my

passion for working with communities and my desire to learn more about the past,

present, and future of Pilcopata.

I am interested in learning more about the Pilcopata community, specifically the

environmental and social challenges that Queros community members experience in their

lives. I would like to better understand the roots of these challenges and issues, and if

Queros community members in the town of Pilcopata share in many of the same

frustrations. If you are willing to work with me on this project, I would greatly appreciate

the time and knowledge that you have to share.

Your participation in this study is voluntary, you will remain anonymous if you

choose to, and your responses will be kept confidential within the fullest extent of the

law. If at any point you would no longer like to participate in the study, you may

withdraw for any reason at any point, and are not obligated to explain you reasoning or

circumstances to me. If you decide to withdraw, all of your data and information will be

destroyed at your request and will not be used in any part of the study. You are not

required to answer or participate in any aspect of the study, only what you feel

comfortable in contributing.

During our interviews and focus group meeting I will ask for permission to record

the conversation so that I can go back and interpret the conversations after. If at any point

you feel uncomfortable with the recording device, it can be removed from any aspect of

the research and all recordings can be deleted if requested. All recordings will also be

deleted after the completion of my research write up. Any data collected will remain

solely on a School for Field Studies computer under the protection of a passcode that

only I have access to. If you have any further questions about this, please feel free to

contact my supervisor, Katie MacDonald (kmacdonald@fieldstudies.org) or Nicole

Wischlinski (nwischlinski@fieldstudies.org).

After conducting all of my research, I will be sharing my results with my fellow

SFS students, as well as the citizens of Pilcopata and interested civilians in Cusco, Peru.

I will also be sharing it with my major department chairs at Champlain College in the

United States. You will also be given the opportunity to share if you agree or disagree

with my conclusions.

Do you have any questions about my research project, or about what we talked

about today? Are all points of this study clear, including your ability to withdraw at any

Cullen 40

moment in time? Thank you for taking the time to talk with me today, and I look forward

to working with you.

2. Risk Assessment

Political Risk: There is no anticipated political risk associated with this research.

However, there is a recognition and awareness that any political unrest (which

may manifest as riots or road disruption) may interfere with my research should I

not be able to communicate or meet with my participants.

Socioeconomic Risk: Working with members of a community in a region with

high poverty rates, I acknowledge that socioeconomic factors may influence

political risk. No socioeconomic risks, with the exception of a potential for the

camera to be stolen or lost, is anticipated.

Researcher Identity Risk: Pilcopata is a generally open and accepting

community to SFS students, and we have worked diligently to maintain this

relationship. The Queros community has likewise been very hospitable, and

relationships with community members have been formed by both myself

(through environmental education days) and through ACCA and SFS staff

members.

Nature of Field Study Risk: There is very little danger to myself during this

research project. I will be traveling by foot into town to work with participants,

and will not be relying on any forms of alternative transportation other than

directly from the SFS vehicle and its approved drivers. I am well adjusted to this

location and the town, and do not foresee any risks in this area. Additionally, I

will always have at least one other person with me, fulfilling the role of translator,

which will improve the safety of fieldwork.

Health: My health throughout my time in Peru has been relatively stable and of

good quality. I am up to date on all vaccines, and I access to medications and

clinics in Pilcopata (15 minutes away), Salvación (45 minutes away), and Cusco

(8 hours away) should I require medical attention of any kind. Accommodation

and Travel Risks: I will not be requiring any transportation by vehicle for myself

during this research. If this changes, I will solely be utilizing the SFS vehicle and

its approved drivers for transportation. On all other occassions I will be walking

into town to conduct my research. I will always dressed in full length clothing

after 5:00pm to protect against mosquito and sand-fly borne illnesses, such as

Dengue fever and leishmaniasis. Sunscreen and bug repellant will also be worn

consistently to protect against sun and insects.

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3. Community Survey

PROBLEMAS IN SUS VIDAS COTIDIANAS

SERVICIOS PUBLICOS BAJOS RECURSOS ECONOMICOS

ANIMALES DOMESTICOS TIEMPO, RESPONSIBILIDAD,

TRABAJO Y CUIDADO DE NIÑOS

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PROBLEMAS AMBIENTALES

CAMBIO CLIMATICO BASURA

MANEJO DE TIERRA Y RECURSOS

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PROBLEMAS SOCIALES

SALUD Y CUIDADO DE SALUD DROGAS Y ALCOHOL

TRANSPORTE Y CALLES VIOLENCIA Y ABUSO

EDUCACION CAMBIO Y PÉRDIDA DE CULTURA