Berkley Center

In my last post I wrote about the strong Catholic tradition and how it has specifically impacted the political history of Argentina and the social struggle to remember the recent past in a recovering democracy. With my writing for the Junior Year Abroad Network in mind, throughout my time here I have observed two general characteristics of Argentine society: the undeniable and widespread influence of the Catholic hierarchy on many aspects of society and the innate contradictions flowing through the stressed social fabric. As previously observed, one of these contradictions lies in Argentine Catholicism itself and the fact that this would-be state religion is not actively practiced by a majority of its followers. On a wider scale this conflict between beliefs and practices reflects the deeply ingrained opposing forces of a colonial nation still held taut between Spain and South America, the old world and the new world, and colonization and independence. But like all countries bearing the burden of the label “Latin American,” modern Argentina manages to find a cultural balance as precarious as the slowly convalescing economy, yet sturdily built upon a common identity.

I found myself exploring this unique balance outside of the urban jungle that is Buenos Aires, in the infinitely diverse countryside of the second largest nation in South America. I have been fortunate enough to travel all over the country, taking in the sites from mountain hikes, long bus rides, horseback excursions, rafting, airplanes, ferry boats, and everything in between. It was during my travels that I really got to observe in person how the ancient history of the country continues to influence social practices hundreds of years later. This is especially pertinent to the rural provinces outside of the industrialized eastern region, where tourism and farming are the largest industries and the citizens reflect the strong presence of a pre-Colombian indigenous culture of Argentina.

Back in September I visited the northwest province of Jujuy, an area of Argentina resembling the southwestern United States, with long stretches of cacti-filled deserts dramatically broken by multicolored rock formations and truly majestic mountains. Upon arriving in the small town of Tilcara, I immediately knew that this place was the other side of Argentina. There wasn’t a skyscraper, a leashed dog, or an overcrowded bus in sight. All that I saw were a few modest homes and store fronts surrounding the town square, which consisted of the typical Argentine open air market and a humble statue to former first lady and champion of the working class Eva Peron. Tilcara, like every other town we visited in Jujuy, also had a traditional, missionary-style Catholic church at the town’s center that quietly hummed with activity any time of the day and joined the market as the best place to socialize with locals.

These simple white-stained buildings in every town were a constant reminder of the Catholicism that I had come to expect in Argentina; nonetheless, their simplicity contrasted the grandeur of cathedrals throughout the city of Buenos Aires. For me they would come to represent the unique faith of the working class citizens of Jujuy–people whose ancestors inhabited this land for thousands of years before the arrival of the Spanish conquistadors. In this regard, old religious traditions of the Incan tribe still survive. For example, we took a bus up to one of the highest peaks our first day, and on the trip up the mountain we stopped on the side of the road to conduct a brief but sacred ceremony in honor of the Incan goddess, Pachamama, or what we would call Mother Earth. Our tour guide very seriously walked us over to a large pile of what appeared to be rocks and garbage. We saw all kinds of leaves, glass bottles, cigarette cases, and food refuse. Every day before ascending the mountain, tourists and farmers alike leave some form of tribute to the Pachamama, thanking her for the gifts of nature and asking her blessing for a safe trip.

Indigenous practices like this one, combined with the presence of the Catholic Church, show me the true nature of religion in Argentina. It is a symbiosis of what appear to be contrasting forces–modernity and antiquity. It is an integration of the traditions of the past with modern religion. It is a combination of the beliefs of the conquered with those of the conquerors. Yes, in my opinion it is sad that Western religion has come to dominate and replace ancient religion. However, this product of a historically unjust colonization may be viewed optimistically as a compromise that ultimately reflects a certain victory for the indigenous cultures and their ability to survive long past their civilizations’ ends.