Grandma, big word, letters of gold
Grandma, you are history, you contain everything
You are a seed and then harvest
Soul of steel, pure energy
Wrinkles
Your people are traits of wisdom
like a shoot from your insides
they never forget who their grandmother was
her gaze, her steps will not be lost
they are alive in every old horizon
fighting against time to always exist.
Ray of light in dark night
Caranqui woman, Inca mix.
Thousands of furrows in open soils
speak of history, they flash life
Furrows that drawn on your face are reflections of each struggle
of each step on the roads
where your footprint is still marked
where you walked with a firm step, back bent and forehead upright
carrying the baby, vessel filled with fresh water from the stream.
When I sing first, I ask God
to give me his wisdom
to be able to sing, because it has been up to God for the ability and everything
and I remember him.
Some who have heard me sing tell me
what a beautiful voice, you brought out from your mother
and I thank God for that.
We will see that hopefully with time
we will find two or three people who can sing
because the old melody is not equal to the current one.
The ¨three hours¨ is a wonder that
requires voices, time and love to be able to be inspired and reborn these things.
I took the lyrics from my mom.
She left me a book called Ancora de Salvación
and in that book it had some lyrics of both the old Kings' speeches
and the songs
so I made a copy of it in a notebook.
[Music] Hail painful
and afflicted mother,
save your pains and
save us all,
save your pains, and save us all.
I worked the weeding, the planting,
I did the palón.
You have to sow this granite,
be it corn or brown,
you put two or three in each bush,
two or three, more than that is not worth it.
It just becomes straw.
And here it was a little bush of corn, another little bush and in the middle the beans
now no longer fit in the middle the beans,
you have to plant only the corn, only the beans,
the large beans that guide you have to put it in the corn
and the beans are the same, apart alone
and the pea is planted the same.
We have to wait, asking when the moon is good to plant.
Before it used to rain, now
the weather has changed, it no longer rains,
before it used to rain.
Up here on the hill,
up on the road,
it used to be pools of water
and now go to see where is a drop of water.
I got to know the little plants
from the age when I was in school.
I was at school,
and I saw the little plants by there
and said: how beautiful,
how beautiful the plants.
I plant them with love,
I will take care of them
I talk to them.
That's why I love them.
I love the person,
the plant is the person.
The Tisana is
ataco, quinoa from castile, maidenhair,
the carrot to eat.
There is a sacha carrot and lemon,
the calahuala plant,
a spoonful of linseed,
two nettles, a little bit of carnation flowers,
the poppy flower which is the best, and honey
for periods
to purify the blood
when the period comes.
Only three days,
three times a day
it is composed.
They come here to ask for remedies,
sometimes I don't have it, so I give what I have.
The medicinal plants are chamomile
lemon balm, oregano, borage,
trinitaria which is a small tree,
pink mallow, mint,
there is a leaf called granadilla,
that is for the liver.
That's what ancient remedies are,
now it´s only medicine.
When I saw a person who was barely shouting at me, then I went down,
stopping working, I went down
and it was my grandson lying on the sidewalk
in a bad way,
he woke up as if from a dream
and suddenly hugged me
and said: Mommy, someone wouldn't let me come
someone didn't let me come
they adjusted me, they had me and they wouldn't let me go, he said.
I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth,
I believe in Jesus Christ, God´s only son, who was conceived by the work and grace of the Holy Spirit,
born of the virgin Mary and died under the power of Pontius Pilate,
he was crucified, died and buried ,
he descended into hell and on the third day he ascended to heaven
and is seated at the right hand of the Father almighty
and he will come again to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy mother Catholic Church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body
and the life everlasting. Amen.
They say that when you feel the hit of the branches,
the slap of the branches on the body, that exalts the illness outside.
That's the secret, like this
is not about letting it float
but like this. That's it, why else
that's enough
and that's what you have to do every day.
Alright mom.
Remember that you have to do it tomorrow too.
More or less it has the process of a month,
in a month the jora is ready with a big ñavecito
so that ñavecito says that is the sweet of the chicha.
Then as that ñavecito breaks when drying it,
they collect everything and dry it nice
then they catch a glimpse and send it to the mill.
When I don't know something I still ask my mom.
Mom, how do you do such a thing?
You remember? She says: yes
This is how it is done, then I learn from her.
I learned what my mother taught me and so I have taught my daughter.
This is how to do it, this is how it is done.
The objective of it resting in the pondo is
so that in the pondo it comes to ferment
and takes on a ferment flavor of the chicha de jora.
There is no longer anything from antiquity, there is nothing
now with the new ones, there is no longer anything.
From the new generation.
There is nothing anymore, they no longer believe in any of the old things,
strange will be that one or another who believes
from there what the old people vary, what can I believe they say.
In your silence you carry fire,
the burning flame that always shines
a furrow on your face, lavishly sow
wise advice that no one forgets.
Taitas and mamas, eternal grandmother.
The roads of the towns have your footprints,
the foods we eat have your flavors,
the plants of the mountain carry your knowledge.
Grandma road, rain, earth, river.
Grandma rain, wind, water, fire.
Grandma triumph, time, encouragement
Grandma peace, grandma fight, grandma seed then harvest
because you are all eternal grandma.
¿What is heritage four you?
My grandmother
[Music] the path learned with the struggles they have won
that have guided our steps.
They cling to the earth the root of resilience
Pachamama already knew that the lullabies the plants knew.
Through her daughters, her granddaughters, blood that transcends
Soul that never dies.
Soul that never dies. [Music]