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)
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)
Cullen 1
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
Cullen 2
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
Cullen 3
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.
Cullen 4
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
Cullen 5
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).
Cullen 6
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.
Cullen 7
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).
Cullen 8
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
Cullen 9
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).
Cullen 10
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).
Cullen 11
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).
Cullen 12
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.
Cullen 13
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
Cullen 14
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
Cullen 15
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
Cullen 16
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
Cullen 18
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.
Cullen 19
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.
Cullen 22
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
Literature Cited
ACCA (2015). Visitor guide to Villa Carmen.
Arbon, V. & Rigney, L. I. (2014). Indigenous At The Heart: Indigenous research in a climate
change project. AlterNative: An International Journal of Indigenous Peoples, 10(5): 478-
492.
Asher, K. (2014). The Doers and the Done For: Interrogating the Subjects and Objects of
Engaged Political Ecology. ACME: An International E-Journal for Critical Geographies,
13(3): 489-496.
Bell, M. G. (2015). Political Ecology of Water: Access to Municipal Drinking Water in Colonial
Lima, Peru (1578-1700). The Professional Geographer, 67(4): 504-526.
Chilisa, B. & Ntseane, G. (2010). Resisting dominant discourses: implications of indigenous,
African feminist theory and methods for gender and education research. Gender and
Education, 22(6): 617-632.
Datta, R., Khyang, N., Kgyang, H. K. P., Kheyang, H. A. P., Kyang, M. C. & Chapola, J. (2014).
Participatory action research and researcher’s responsibilities: an experience with
an Indigenous community. International Journal of Social Research Methodology, 1(1):
1-19.
Davis, S. H. & Wali, A. (1994). Indigenous Land Tenure and Tropical Forest Management in
Latin America. Ambio, 23(8): 1-12.
Delemos, J. L. (2012). Community-based participatory research: Changing scientific practice
from research on communities to research with and for communities. Local Environment:
The International Journal of Justice and Sustainability, 11(3): 329-338.
Drzewieniecki, J. (2003). Las fuentes de la cultura legal en los Andes. Boletín de Antropología
Universidad de Antioquia (Colombia), 17(34): 53-79.
England, K. V. L. (1994). Getting Personal: Reflexivity, Positionality, and Feminist Research.
Women in the Field, 46(1): 80-89.
Erickson, C. L. (2008). Amazonia: The Historical Ecology of a Domesticated Landscape. In
Handbook of South American Archaeology: 161. New York, NY: Springer.
Fletcher, A. J., MacPhee, M. & Dickson, G. (2015). Doing Participatory Action Research in a
Multicase Study: A Methodological Example. International Journal of Qualitative
Methods, 14(5): 1-9.
Fuller, N. (2000). Work and Masculinity Among Peruvian Urban Men. The European Journal of
Development Research, 12(2): 93-114.
Garcia-Montúfar, G., Solís, M.A. & Isaacson, S. E. (2004). Advances in Religious Liberty in
Peru. Brigham Young University Law Review, 2(4): 385-417.
Garrett-Graddy, T. (2013). Regarding biocultural heritage: in situ political ecology of
agricultural biodiversity in the Peruvian Andes. Agriculture and Human Values, 30(1):
587-604.
Gobierno Regional Madre de Dios: Gerencia Regional de Planeamiento, Presupuesto y
Acondicionamiento Territorial. (2015). Estudio de diagnóstico y zonificación para el
tratamiento de la demarcación territorial en la provincia de Manu.
Golash-Boza, T. & Bonilla-Silva, E. (2013). Rethinking race, racism, identity and ideology in
Latin America. Ethnic and Racial Studies, 36(10): 1485-1489.
Harry, D. (2011). Biocolonialism and Indigenous Knowledge in UN Discourse. Griffith Law
Review, 20(1): 702-728.
Cullen 37
Hayes, M. (2015). Into the Universe of the Hacienda: Lifestyle Migration, Individualism and
Social Dislocation in Vilcabamba, Ecuador. Journal of Latin American Geography,
14(1): 79-100.
hooks, b. (1990). Choosing the Margin as a Space of Radical Openness. In Yearnings: Race,
Gender and Cultural Politics: 45. Brooklyn, NY: South End Press.
Huicho, L., Miranda, J. J., Diez-Canseco, F., Lema, C., Lescano, A. G., Lagarde, M. & Blaauw,
D. (2012). Job Preferences of Nurses and Midwives for Taking Up a Rural Job in Peru: A
Discrete Choice Experiment. PLoS ONE, 7(12): 1-9.
Ilahi, N. (2001). Gender and the Allocation of Adult Time. Policy Research Dissemination
Center, Working Paper 2744: 1-36.
INEI, 2016. Peruvian Poverty Map by Province and District 2009: Focused on Income.
Available at: http://www.unfpa.org.pe/pub licaciones/publicacionesperu/INEI-Mapa-
Pobreza-2009.pdf. Accessed April 14, 2016.
Johnson, J. T. (2010). Place-based learning and knowing: critical pedagogies grounded in
Indigeneity. GeoJournal, 1(1): 1-8.
Kesby, M. (2005). Re-theorising empowerment-through-participation as a performance in space:
Beyond tyranny to transformation. Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society,
30(1): 2037-2065.
Kovach, M. (2009). Indigenous and Qualitative Inquiry: A Round Dance? In Indigenous
Methodologies: Characteristics, Conversations, and Contexts: 23-38. Toronto, Canada:
University of Toronto Press.
Kumar, R. (2015). Andean Migration. Political Ecology Directed Research. The School for Field
Studies, Pilcopata, Peru.
Lindner, K. & Stetson, G. (2009). For Opacity: Nature, Difference and Indigeneity in
Amazonia. Topia, Canadian Journal of Communication, 21(1): 41-61.
Lipsitz, G. (1995). The Possessive Investment in Whiteness: Racialized Social Democracy and
the “White” Problem in American Studies. American Quarterly, 47(3): 369-387.
Lopez, M., White, A. C. & Cabada, M. M. (2012). Burden of Fasciola hepatica Infection among
Children from Paucartambo in Cusco, Peru. The American Journal of Tropical Medicine and
Hygiene, 86(3): 481-485.
Louis, R. P. & Grossman, Z. (2009). Discussion paper on research and Indigenous peoples.
Indigenous Peoples Specialty Group of the Association of American Geographers: 1-6.
Maccormack, S. (1985). “The Heart Has Its Reasons:” Predicaments of Missionary Christianity
in Early Colonial Peru. Hispanic American Historical Review, 65(3): 443-466.
Miranda, J. J., Diez-Canseco, F., Lema, C., Lescano, A. G., Lagarde, M., Blaauw, D. & Huicho,
L. (2012). Stated Preferences of Doctors for Choosing a Job in Rural Areas of Peru: A
Discrete Choice Experiment. PLoS ONE, 7(12): 1-9.
Mishra, V. & Hodge, B. (2005). What Was Postcolonialism? New Literary History, 36(3): 375-
402.
Mosley, P. (2002). Achievements and Contradictions of the Peruvian Agrarian Reform: A
Regional Perspective. Journal of Development Studies, 18(2): 440-448.
Nahuelpan, H. (2016). The Place of the “Indio” in Social Research. AlterNative: An
International Journal of Indigenous Peoples, 12(1): 3-17.
Patrinos, H. A. & Psacharopoulos, G. (1997). Family Size, Schooling and Child Labor in Peru:
An Empirical Analysis. Journal of Population Economics, 10(4): 387-405.
Rénique, G. (2009). Against the Law of the Jungle: Peru’s Amazonian Uprising. Socialism and
Cullen 38
Democracy, 22(2): 5-8.
Rigney, D., Bignall, S. & Hemming, S. (2015). Negotiating Indigenous Modernity. AlterNative:
An International Journal of Indigenous Peoples, 11(4): 334-349.
Sanon, M., Evans-Agnew, R. A. & Boutain, D. M. (2014). An exploration of social justice intent
in photovoice research studies from 2008 to 2013. Nursing Inquiry, 21(3): 212-226.
Shepard, G. & Morales, M. (2008). House of the Children’s “Project Huacaria:” Five-Year
Evaluation (2002-2007) of Social and Health Impacts of an Integrated Water
Purification/Health Education. Museum of Archeology and Ethnology, University of São
Paulo.
Starn, O., Degregori, C. I. & Kirk, R. (2005). The Peru Reader: History, Culture, Politics: 270-
282. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
Tello, R. (2014). Hunting Practices of the Wachiperi: Demystifying Indigenous Environmental
Behavior. Arlington, VA: Amakella Publishing.
Thurner, M. (1993). Peasant Politics and Andean Haciendas in the Transition to Capitalism: an
Ethnographic History. Latin American Research Review, 28(3): 41-82.
Vivieros de Castro, E. (1998). Cosmological Deixis and Amerindian Perspectivism. The Journal
of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 4(3): 469-488.
Whittington, D., Davis, J., Prokopy, L., Komives, K., Thorsten, R., Lukacs, H., Bakalian, A. &
Wakeman, W. (2009). How well is the demand-driven, community management model
for rural water supply systems doing? Evidence from Bolivia, Peru, and Ghana. Water
Policy, 11(6): 696-718.
Wilson, S. (2008). Relational Accountability in Research is Ceremony: Indigenous research
methods: 97-125. Winnipeg, MB: Fernwood.
Wiseman, N. D. & Bardsley, D. K. (2013). Climate Change and Indigenous Natural Resource
Management: a review of socio-ecological interactions in the Alinytjara Wilurara NRM
region. Local Environment, Vol. 18(9): 1024-1045.
Cullen 39
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 ([email protected]) or Nicole
Wischlinski ([email protected]).
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.
Cullen 41
3. Community Survey
PROBLEMAS IN SUS VIDAS COTIDIANAS
SERVICIOS PUBLICOS BAJOS RECURSOS ECONOMICOS
ANIMALES DOMESTICOS TIEMPO, RESPONSIBILIDAD,
TRABAJO Y CUIDADO DE NIÑOS
Cullen 42
PROBLEMAS AMBIENTALES
CAMBIO CLIMATICO BASURA
MANEJO DE TIERRA Y RECURSOS
Cullen 43
PROBLEMAS SOCIALES
SALUD Y CUIDADO DE SALUD DROGAS Y ALCOHOL
TRANSPORTE Y CALLES VIOLENCIA Y ABUSO
EDUCACION CAMBIO Y PÉRDIDA DE CULTURA