WHEN WATER FROM THE ANDES TOUCHED THE DRIEST PLACE ON EARTH – PERU 2007 PART THREE

Fresh from our trip to Tacna and side trip to Chile, we were once again back in Arequipa. Like every trip we ever made back to Deysi’s homeland, we packed as much activity into it as possible. We had returned from Tacna, exhausted, but keen for the next adventure. This one is sure to have you fast asleep; after reading a couple of paragraphs. A day of laundry, a visit to the centre of the city, for some local food, a short rest and we were pumped once again. This time we had decided to go see whatever happened to the project we, both, had worked on, almost 30 years previously. Deysi and I had met there, me, a young hillbilly from Canada and her, an Andean enchantress, from Peru. What chance did I ever have?

When we announced this plan, you could see Deysi’s family trying to fade into the woodwork. I am guessing, another long, hot, dry, drive across the desert was not high up on their lists. We asked, “Ok who is coming?” Arnie, Deysi’s big brother, jumps up and says, “I’m in”! That could be expected, after all he worked in the very same part of the Andes Mountains, as Deysi and I. He was one of the first people I met at our job site, way back in 1978. By that time, Deysi had already worked there for three years, all the time under protection from her big brother. Papi, is the next one in. Hell he didn’t mind going for a ride. He could sleep right thru the loudest of my Stories or Historical diatribes.

One by one, they all bought in. I believe they had been instructed to be polite to Ol’ JimboRed, and to do whatever I wanted. After all, it was very close to my birthday and no one wanted to hurt my feelings. Soon enough we had a small busload. Deysi, then started scouting out a van to carry us all. As usual, she came up with van and driver. So the day of departure arrives, for this epic adventure. We pile into our transport and off we go. With 10 of us on board, we once again headed down, out of Arequipa, and on to the desert. Same procedure as always. Pull up at the tollbooth at Uchumayo, everyone piles out and heads into the food stalls at the side of the highway. Like a MacDonald’s beckoning, we had never once been able to resist their allure.

And, as always, we wound our way out of the Andes and onto the Pan American Highway and the Atacama Desert. To help everyone pass the time, soon after we left Arequipa, I had launched into a big historical & political lecture. Right when I get to my main point, I feel a silence around me. Looking around I see everyone asleep, or at least pretending to sleep. So I pass the next while sulking by myself. Before we get another half hour down the road, we come to a big, bus stop like area. There was not much there, but the driver asked if we should stop. Suddenly all 9 of my companions are wide awake. The van stops, doors open, and everyone piles out to find something to buy, or at least a bathroom to visit. Another half hour of my day is squandered.

This day’s journey was not long in distance and covered, only, about 110 km’s, each way. In time it was probably a two and a half hour drive, going out. The main delays, were the snack, drink and restroom breaks, as well as one or two side of the road photo breaks. Combine that with the slow descent from Arequipa to the desert and it seemed as if we had driven 250 km’s. The Pan American highway at this point was basically a straight line for long, long distances. The only changes were when we crossed a river valley, carrying water from the Andes, down to the Ocean. There were two, between Arequipa and our destination. At each we had to make a slow, twisting descent on one side. Then drive across lush, green farmland. And then a slow twisting ascent up the other side and back onto the desert.

At each one of these green breaks, in the otherwise, flat brown desert, we would stop and everyone would pile out for photo opps. Papi, Big Sole’ and Arnie knew quite a lot about the history of some of these valleys. So at each stop, one of them would tell us what the valley was called and anything else they knew about it. I was enthralled and could easily see myself, living here, as a “Don”, whiling away the days, in one of these green belts. All the while Deysi bringing me cool beers and Peruvian snacks, and fanning me under the shade. This all before she “milked the Goats” and cooked our cuyes (pets) for my dinner. Oh, what pleasant daydreams I had.

I believe, that, in these farming valleys, 80% of the farms were less than 10 acres. For the years proceeding, and up to the time of this trip in 2007, I understood that a well worked farm of 5-10 acres could support a small family. Some raised hay crops, some alfalfa, corn, perhaps coca leaves, vegetables, fruit, some cattle, while others had sheep, chickens, pigs or alpacas. The whole system of life was a barter system. Money meant little, inside these river valley communities. It only became a necessity, if you needed something from the outside. It worked something like this; if I had a chicken, I would then trade you for a bag of grapes, then I would brew some Pisco (drink a little), and trade someone else for their pig, etc. etc.

Finally we found ourselves in the Siguas Valley, where the water from our project, finally met the desert and made everything green. When we arrived on the highway, above this valley, at once you realized you were seeing something different. Now as far as the eye could see, there were fields of green, herds of cattle, groves of fruit trees and a checkerboard of lanes. In the distance, you could see smoke rising from industry, and everywhere signs of a successful agricultural area. At first, Deysi and I, could not comprehend what we were seeing. It took her brother to explain to us what we were looking at now, in terms of what we remember in the late 1970’s.

The last time, Deysi and I had seen this area was in late January 1979. At that time, we were making our last trip out of the Andes. Our work there was over, our contracts were completed. We were now off to see the world. As we always did, at this very spot where we now sat; in 1979, we would stop, on the way down for the weekend, at an open air, roadside bar/restaurant. There we would eat a mortadella sandwich and drink a big beer with the owner. On Fridays, throughout the life of our Project, everyone leaving this side of the Andes, as well as those who worked on the desert sector met at this roadside stop for beer and mortadella sandwiches. It became a tradition. We would renew friendships, meet new project people, and exchange lies.

During my years there, it became obvious what the attraction was at this particular roadside stop. Besides being halfway to Arequipa, and finally out of the Andes mountains, this particular stop featured a lady owner and her three, eligible, rather attractive daughters. You can only guess what the attraction was for all the single male Project staff. Everyone had showered and slicked up, for their stop in Siguas. The smell of man perfume permeated the air. The competition was fierce. Not Ol’ JimboRed though, I was already a prisoner of my heart to Deysi. At that time a small, river trickled thru this area and there was a small area of farming scattered along this valley.

Now in 2007, as far as you could see, from the top of the Siguas River valley, it was green. I’m talking from horizon to horizon. Desyi and I were both stunned. If indeed, what we were looking at was 50,000 acres under irrigation. With water provided by our project. I could now realize the magnitude of it. It was staggering. What we were looking at was 150 square kilometres of fertile land where only a desert had existed previously. Nowhere in any direction could you see the desert. It was as if it had been swallowed by a sea of green. If you had not just driven 100 km’s thru the Atacama Desert, then you would say, “bullshit”, to anyone telling you there was desert under that green. There had been NOTHING there, in 1979, on our last trip out of the mountains.

Before we enter this now fertile area, I will try to provide some facts of what we were involved in. Possibly I can try to explain how it started and where it is now. Back in the early 1970’s a rock fill dam was constructed, high in the Andes mountains at a place called Condoroma. This dam filled up with waters from the Colca River that ran from higher in the Andes. It created a huge repository of water, that was then to be channeled thru 125 km’s of tunnels and canals. Providing sufficient irrigation to 150 square kilometres of desert. It was designed to provide farms for about 3000 families, who did not otherwise have access to their own land. 3000 farming families, required another 12,000 people in support services to keep the area running, and 15,000 bureaucrats to make sure no money was left unspent.

It was on this Project, called the Majes Irrigation Project, where Deysi and I worked and met in the late 1970’s. It was a large project, in fact the largest Project ever funded by the World Bank, too that time. Member countries donated funding for this Project, and each donor, in turn, selected one of their national construction companies, to represent them in Peru. I was hired by the Canadian Construction Company, Foundation Canada. They recruited me from western Canada and sent me to Peru. Deysi worked as our sector manager’s bilingual secretary and company translator. She also taught Spanish to the gringo. The original phase of the project that Deysi, Arnie and I were involved in was to cost about 1.5 billion US dollars. By the time it was finished, it probably cost 3 times that much.

It must also be stated, just how fertile the land was. In this area of the Atacama Desert, there had never been, ever, any recorded precipitation. I am not sure if you get any drier than that. However, once water was introduced to the soil on this desert, then anything would grow. I remember, someone involved in our project in the 1970’s telling me that in this fertile land you could produce 3 crops each year! Think about that for a moment! You could grow your potatoes crop, 4 months later, plant your hay, and before the end of the year, plant enough hops for your beer. Hell, in these conditions maybe JimboRed and Deysi could have been farmers. One thing for certain, in those growing conditions, you would be kept pretty busy.

The original plan and concept of this project was to capture water from an Andean mountain river, and divert it onto the desert. The rules were to be, that any Peruvian citizen who did not already have land could apply for a plot. Water would be provided by our project. Then the new settlers were required to live on, and work the land. It could never be sold. If a farmer no longer wanted to work his plot, then it would revert back to the pool of available farms. It was a very altruistic idea. And for some years, from the onset, it seemed to work. However, as we all know, governments change and ideas change with them.

One of the first things we see (in 2007) on entering the Majes/Siguas basin, was a big Leche Gloria (canned milk) factory surrounded by large fields filled with 100’s of black and white cattle. It seems like money and politics finally played a role in the plans for this land. Sometime, before we arrived in 2007, it had been decided that the land could now be sold. Of course the big dairy companies swooped in and bought everything they could. They, then, established their manufacturing businesses and slowly the area turned into one of very large landholdings, owned by very large companies. What had happened to the original farmers? Well they now lived in the city which had been developed in the 80’s to service the farming communities. Most of them now worked for one of the large landowners.

One last issue, that makes me question the benefit of what we did. That is, how much did this project impact on water access to the farmers in the Andes? Those who were dependant on it for their livelihood. I remember the original concept being that by building the dam, there would always be a reservoir of water sufficient to service everyone. However, it seems that as time passed, that might not have held true. The farmers in the Majes Valley, along the Colca River, reported that they often suffered periods of little or no water. They complained that when their local canals suffered damage, there was never any help available to fix them. However, when the Majes project tunnels or canals failed, there was immediate response to the issue and unlimited resources.

The farmers, along this Andean valley, waged protests and in some case turned militant. When Arnie explained their concerns to me, I felt sympathy with their plight. What had started as a, very good, humanitarian endeavour, in a lot of ways, appeared to have reverted back to political manipulation. Basically the rich and influential get everything, the poor, with no power, get trod on. And they are largely forgotten by the world. The Proposed next stages of the Project have not since got “off the ground”. They have been mired in protests, politics and monetary issues. If I could turn back the clock and just have the original 3000 families and their heirs working their crops, I would be content. However……..

We drove thru the fields and along the canals that dispersed the water onto the desert. It was a checkerboard of roads, canals and huge sprinkler systems pumping water onto the crops. It looked no different than if you were driving thru some of the greenbelts in Canada or the USA. What I had expected to see, were 3000 “small holdings” with their houses and farmers in their fields. By 2007 that was mostly gone. There were still some smaller holdings, with their typical brick or concrete houses and small outbuildings. But certainly not 3000. I felt my temperature starting to climb. Somehow it seemed everything that I thought I was contributing to was for not. It felt like we had ultimately built an area for large rich companies. Of course using World Bank funding, when these companies could have well afforded to build it themselves.

We drove thru some large fields and into the city, that had been developed to service the original farming community. It was now about 25 years old, and already looked tired and worn. Many of the original settlers, had sold out and moved to the town, and now worked for the large companies. I did not have a good opinion of this place. However, we arrived at the main plaza, and lo and behold, a full blown parade was starting. “Geezus”, I thought, “they didn’t have to make a special birthday parade to welcome me back to Siguas. But sure enough, the police were out marching, the band was playing, and the mayor was sitting in front of city hall, waiting for my arrival, so he could make a welcoming speech.

I remember suggesting as much to Deysi and her dad. She snorted and then ignored me. Her dad just smiled and looked the other way. Oh well, I couldn’t quite hear the speech, so I just made up my own words. I basked in the glory, and puffed up when the applause sounded. With the ceremony over, we just kind of milled around the centre of town and looked at the sights. By now it was a couple of hours since our group had eaten, so someone suggested we go find a restaurant. We looked for local transport to take us to the best eating place. What we found were three wheeled motorcycle type vehicles with a covered seat attached. They were identical to the famous TukTuk from Thailand, that I had ridden many miles in, during my stay there.

We decided on a restaurant called The Canarios (canaries in English). I quickly looked around to make sure there were no bird gages hanging close to the kitchen. I found none, so felt safe, that, the name was only poetic and not culinary. After all, you know Peruvians, if they would eat your pet guinea pig, then eating a few canarios would mean little to them. I remember sitting there and drinking cold beer, but cannot remember the food. We ate and then continued on our exploration of the local area. I always seem to remember each and every meal I ate in Peru. However this time, I draw a blank and cannot seem to remember it, or find a picture of it. Strange? Note: A testament to the amount of rainfall in this area. Look at the thatched roof, full of holes, yet not an issue.

The one thing we could not miss was a look at our company offices in this area. Although Desyi, Arnie and myself never worked in these offices, we had many occasions to visit them for work related meetings. The camp here was called Sector Siguas and was mainly staffed by Brits. Our camp was mainly a Canadian camp. The people working here, lived on the edge of the desert. While we were 80 kilometres away, at 12,000 feet in the Andes. We always felt that their’s was a summer holiday camp job, while we carried the brunt of the tougher work. They, of course, thought that we were always partying up in the mountains, while they did all of the work on the desert. That is not true, “we didn’t party all of the time”!

I must say, it was a bit nostalgic seeing the offices, now abandoned and in disrepair. When we were here last (in the late 70’s), these same offices were all that gave any hint of civilization in the area. Besides them, there was only desert! Any vehicle you saw in this area, in those days, was one of our canary yellow Majes Project trucks. Any people you met would have been mostly, stomach of the sperm whale, pale white-skinned, gringos. Deysi, I and Arnie enjoyed this part of the trip. It brought back many memories, and perhaps a tear to DeysI’s eye. I am sure everyone else was “gun in the mouth” bored.

Once again you must forgive my unending string of words. For those of you I haven’t already lost, to sleep or a bullet, I will end at this point. The rest of the afternoon we drove around the area. In some ways, I found it amazing and a bit nostalgic. In other ways I found it a bit saddening to think that this Project had possibly changed direction, from one, of helping the people obtain their own farms, to now, apparently, benefiting some large companies. I remember during our tour, seeing a large dairy facility, owned by a Chilean company. So my last thought, while we drove away was, that not only big rich companies benefited our work, but also the dreaded Chileans. I didn’t want to bring it up while riding with Deysi and her father, so just clenched my tongue between my teeth and rode in silence.

EDITOR’S NOTE: WHAT I WRITE IS FROM MY MEMORIES OF THAT TIME IN 2007, WHEN WE VISITED THIS AREA. I MAY BE COMPLETELY WRONG ABOUT THE WATER USAGE, PEOPLE AND THEIR THOUGHTS, AND POLITICAL ISSUES. HOWEVER, IT IS AS I REMEMBER IT.

The following pictures are from a friend of Deysi’s little brother J. I am attaching them directly to this blog so they don’t get lost in the comment section. It is amazing to see one of our company trucks from the late 70’s or early 80’s in this type of condition. It would be so interesting to know of its history and who owns it today. It appears to be in immaculate shape! These pictures are from TODAY, January 1st, 2024, at least 40 years after this truck was used on one of our sites!

Hello JimboRed,
Here’s a picture of the only, original GMC Truck of Majes-MACON. Mint Condition. The picture was taken today by a good friend in Arequipa.
He tried to stop the driver to ask about the truck, but no luck.
I sent the pictures to Lilia via Facebook.
Please post them. I will share your site with my friend. JA