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This is not a t'antawawa as such because I never learned how to make them.
The only one who made them was my grandmother Elena, but she didn't teach me.
The only one who spoke Quechua was my grandmother Elena, very quietly so they wouldn't hear her. Nobody. Neither her grandchildren nor her daughters.
But she made them their bread every year.
She didn't teach me how, but she did leave crumbs of what they were.
She passed on the love she had among the shadows, the silence and the violence.
And if there is one thing she taught me, it is to love a culture I never knew.
The aguayo in the background was woven by Elena Vilca Perez in Potosi, Bolivia.
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