I was about six years old, holding tightly to my father's hand amidst a crowd on a dirt road. We were walking to see the "fiestas de pueblo." It was August, and the small town where I lived was celebrating its foundation. The week-long celebration filled the town with dance, music, food, and joy every day. This town, located in an interior valley of the Andes Mountains, was an indigenous community with Inca heritage. It was a close-knit community that worked together for the community's health and cared for each other, and the celebrations were a lively demonstration of this dynamic.
The "fiestas de pueblo," or town festivals, are common celebrations in the Andes. People dress up and celebrate various occasions, from the village's foundation to the equinox and eclectic religious celebrations. Each celebration has its own preparations, activities, and rituals. The celebrations in our town were filled with music, dance, a closing party with fireworks, and special concoctions prepared for the occasion.
Electricity was scarce, so the only music played was that of a brass band accompanied by deep Andean drums played by town musicians. The tunes were special; the first time I heard them, they became deeply rooted within me. They had a constant rhythm, a celebratory feeling, and an energetic beat that invited dancing. However, they also carried a nostalgic feeling, reminiscent of good times from the past. This music wasn't sad; it had a beat that kept dancers moving day and night during the week-long celebration.
Musicians and dancers only stopped at midnight to rest, then woke up early to resume playing and dancing the next day. There were two main categories of dancers: the countrymen, wearing farmer hats and waving machetes while dancing, and the clowns, wearing cone-shaped hats and wielding batons to entertain the audience. This colorful and energetic crew followed the band, spreading the party's celebratory spirit and inviting the audience to dance, eat, and drink.
As mentioned earlier, the fiesta featured special foods and beverages. Food centered around pork and corn. In the Andes, many varieties of corn are grown, each with its own preparation, including sweet and savory recipes. Pork was mainly served grilled and fried. During the fiestas, there were small, improvised food stands on every corner. The smoke from the grills and the steam from the pots added to the music and the people dancing, gave a mystical feeling to the scene.
Back to that day when I was walking with my father through the fiesta. We were crossing a crowded area when we heard someone shouting my father's name. We turned to see Anita, waving and telling us to come closer. As we reached her food spot, she extended her hand with a cup.
"It's sweet chicha, for the kid," she said.
Chicha, it was the first time I heard that word. I took the cup, looking at my father for approval. He smiled, nodded, and asked Anita to serve him a cup. I took a mouthful, not knowing what to expect. It was sweet and sour, fizzy and dense. My first instinct was to spit it out, but I decided to swallow. The aftertaste was intense. I looked at my dad; he was laughing, as was Anita.
"That's chicha, the best in the whole valley. People come from other towns just to taste my chicha," Anita said.
Chicha is a fermented beverage from the Andes region with many variations. It is a versatile drink, consumed before fermentation and in the early stages for its high caloric content and probiotic properties, similar to Kombucha. After fermenting for a few days, it becomes an alcoholic beverage, unsuitable for children. It is slightly fizzy and refreshing, providing energy for dancing during celebrations of the solstice and harvest. It becomes an inebriating beverage that uplifts the spirits of the celebration.
The brewing method of chicha is similar to barley beer. First, the corn is malted, meaning the grain is germinated, dried, and slightly toasted. Then, the corn is milled into a fine flour and mixed with water. Some say that before the colonial period, this mixture of malted corn flour and water was boiled for several hours, even days, before being ready to drink and start fermenting. Nowadays, the process is shorter because the recipe includes brown sugar or rapadura (unrefined cane sugar).
Chicha is a special beverage. It is an ancient beverage that has survived hundreds of years of colonization and displacement. Nowadays it is really hard to find good chicha in the town. Actually, it is easier to find craft beer than to find chicha. The loss of this tradition is heartbreaking because it represents many issues. First of all, chicha was connected with corn harvest and heirloom grains. This drink was traditionally prepared with locally harvested corn. Secondly, the malting process involves dedicated care. This ancient wisdom being lost because newer generations are not interested in learning this knowledge. This disconnection of youngsters with the chicha tradition also represents a partition of people with their own territory and their land. Currently, the fiestas of my town have changed a lot. They are still fun, but there is only a faint reminiscence of the spirit that I grew up with. Now the brass band and the drums play in the background obscured by big speakers that play really loud music. Chicha is really hard to find. Anita passed away many years ago. Luckily María, her daughter, learned the chicha recipe. So now when I want to drink chicha I have to look for her. No longer can I find the drink on every corner, it is easier to find whisky than to find good chicha.
My first experience tasting chicha was awkward. I honestly didn't know if I liked it or not; it was too intense for my young palate. Nonetheless, that moment opened my mind to a new world. After that, I developed a taste for fermented beverages. Fermentation is now a big part of my craft. I've been experimenting with my own chicha recipes, learning from the wise women who hold the knowledge behind brewing a good chicha. I'll try to maintain the tradition by continuing to brew and prepare this ancient beverage. When I look back at that moment with my father, I feel really fortunate, because now I can proudly say that my first experience was with Anita's chicha, the best in the whole valley.