There it was: The Misti volcano amidst the warm, purple afternoon, sitting at the skirts of Arequipa, “The White City.” As a fervent hiker and lover of national parks, I wanted to finally visit one of Peru’s most iconic touristic spots, the Colca canyon. Yet, on every trip, I take the opportunity to explore the local musical culture and history. Arequipa did not disappoint. In this post, I want to share with you my experience of encountering an amazing group of South American street-performers.
My father and I took a tour to the Colca canyon that started at 3 a.m. By 7 a.m., we were at a viewing spot for birdwatching Andean condors flying. Part of our trip also included visiting multiple viewing spots of the active volcanos, hot springs, tasting local food at small villages, like Maca village, and photographing wild vicunas, llamas, and alpacas in the plains of the Colca. As you can imagine, by the time that we went back to our hotel in the city of Arequipa, we were very tired, but also eager for some hot beverages since it was a cold night. We walked around the plaza to try to find some herbal tea.
In provinces like Arequipa, plazas are spaces for community. One can walk at the plazas late at night and find families, couples, groups of friends, tourists, food sellers, street vendors selling toys, clothes, and souvenirs, and street-performers. We got some ponche Arequipeño (Arequipean punch tea) from a food seller, and as we were enjoying the flavor of muña (andean mint) and orange, I heard the music. It was a steady percussion suddenly accompanied by a sound dear to me, coordinated whistles that took over the night. We walked towards the music and ran into something wonderful:
“Hijas de Ckimal” - “Daughters from Ckimal” performing at Arequipa’s plaza.
The flag reads: “Daughters of Ckimal - created on 04-08-2017 in San Pedro of Atacama - Chile.” The symbols are “chakanas”, typical from the Inca culture. Those symbols also have the colors of the Tahuantinsuyo multicolored flag. Tahuantinsuyo was the territory of the Inca nation.
These musicians are the “Daughters of Ckimal”. They are female pan flute players. As you can see on the videos, they are playin non-curved single-row pan flutes. This is a variation of the South-American pan flute, a two-row pan flute. The South-American pan flute can take different names. Its oldest name is “siku”, a word from the Aymara language, dating back to the Inca culture, but still used today in different parts of South-America. Another popular name for the two-row pan flute is “lakita”. This name is frequently used in Chile and Bolivia. The word “lakitas” also identify a group of musicians who play this instrument. The lakitas often play cheerful festival music. Therefore, lakitas participate of musical orchestras in regional and seasonal parties, which are common in the highlands.
Pedestrians had gathered around the lakitas and were taken by their energy and joy as they sang:
“We came singing and dancing from the mountain range.
We all came together bringing potatoes and ocas,
We are from the north of Chile and we want to sing and dance.
We have little hearts that always reach high.”
Yes, these lakitas came from Chile down to the plaza of Arequipa. They are from a different country, yet they came with a familiar gift. The sound of the pan flute echoes from the mountain range, from the andes, beyond any geographic limits and joins us, South-Americans, together defining our identity. Their song celebrates that difference and similarity. They come from Chile, but they share our regional soil in the mountain range, our food (potatoes and ocas), and our pan flute music. I want to share with you this different face of the pan flute tradition: it’s communal joy.
Perhaps, the pan flute has become mostly known as an instrument of a melancholic character. For the international public, the pan flute is usually associated with songs, such as “The Lonely Shepherd,” “The Last of the Mohicans,” or “The Sound of Silence.” The pan pipes are commonly incorporated into gospel traditions as well. Another rising use of the pan flute is as part of new age music. And, even though it is undeniable that the pan flute’s mellow and breathy tones perfectly match the poignancy that these genres demand, there is even more to it. In the Andes, the pan flute is a versatile instrument that sounds with joy as much as it can mourn. These variations in mood exist as particular musical genres. For instance, the “yaravi” is a mourning genre often played with pan flutes. On the other hands, happier variations are the carnival and the troupe, similar to what we see in these videos.
These lakitas play their pan flutes in synchronicity to create an energetic rhythm, We see that they use different sizes of pan flute, chilis, maltas, and marimachas. These names correspond to the sizes (ranges) of the pan flutes. Seeing those different pan flutes through a street-performer orchestra helps us see how this instrument has been used for millenia as a device for community development. The different types of lakitas require coordination and harmony, but more importantly, they are not only solo-performance instruments, as the modern use of the pan flute is commonly conceived. The Daughters of Ckimal step into the tradition of lakitas cheerfully, embodying the South-American musical culture with grace and glee.
This post aims not only to share an aspect of the South-American identity through the pan flute, but it is also an invitation to reflect of the potential of the pan flute to conjure joy, The sound of the pan flute certainly has the capacity to help us connect with our inner selves through affects, such as melancholy and hope. From reminding us of our roots to connecting us with our faith, the sound of the pan flute is as beautiful as it is healing. Yet, these lakitas demonstrate how the pan flute is also an instrument for creating community through cheerfulness.
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