Temuco Reflection

Ever since I’ve known enough to know that Yiddish is dying, I’ve been upset that I have scraped by in life without knowing much more than a schlep and an oy vey. My mom’s parents are fluent, but my mom and her brothers never learned much—and my cousins, my sister and I know nothing. I think the same thing has happened with Mapudungun, the traditional language of the Mapuche people. Parents teach their children Spanish first, because, frankly, it’s more useful in the world—and eventually, the old language is all but forgotten.

Perhaps the biggest surprise that awaited us in Chapod was the lack of traditional Mapuche culture that we had been learning about for weeks. We had been told that our host parents would speak limited Spanish, that Mapudungun would be their first language; we had been prepared to eat typical Mapuche foods, particularly lots of pork and lamb; and we had learned a bit about the Mapuche religion, which is very interesting (more on that later.) However, we arrived to families who no longer know Mapudungun, cook similar food to our host families in Santiago, and are devout Evangelicals.

The Evangelical Church came around a few generations back, and my family swears that it rid the community of some of its biggest problems, including effectively eliminating alcoholism in Chapod. But, with it went the Mapuche religion, and later Mapudungun. Kids now are scraping by with a mari mari (hello) and kofke (bread.) They learn English as their second language in schools, because it’s more of an asset in the global community than their own language. What will their kids have, if this generation is getting by with so few words? Probably the same as my kids will: a memory of a language so far past it seems almost irrelevant.

I see this as a net loss. But I am an outsider, so who am I to judge? I never saw the old ways, so how can I know if I’m idealizing them?

My host dad, Raul, is the principal of the elementary school we visited in Chapod, and a devout Evangelical. The family said or sang grace before all meals, and everyone was very involved in the Chapod’s one church. My host mom, Luci, like most of the women in the community, doesn’t work. My host sister, Mabel, is thirty-two and in her third year of university in the city of Temuco (where she studies music,) and she is very nice and friendly. My host brother, Ruly, was very interesting to say the least. He’s twenty-eight, and also in his third year of university, studying theater. He is one of the founders of a national theater company that educates youth about the four most present indigenous groups in Chile: the Penhuenche in the East, the Picunche in the North, the Huilliche in the South, and the Mapuche in the West. He’s also in a band called Kechu Werken with his cousins, the youngest of whom is thirteen years old…they do covers of Chilean music using traditional Chilean instruments.

In the traditional Mapuche religion, there are two main forces present: el mapun, or the energy of the cosmos, and el chen, human energy and will. Both are present inside each human being, and both have a side that is male and a side that is female. In the Mapuche faith, woman came before man, and thus has a certain power—and 90% of Mapuche religious officials are women called machi, who are healers.

Taking this into account, I was shocked to find a very strong machismo attitude and an everpresent feeling of antifeminism while in Chapod. For the first time in my life, I was very aware of being in a “woman-in-the-kitchen, man-in-the-workplace” culture—and not only this, but a society where the man is valued more than the woman.

They start young. Annick, Lizzie, and I taught an English lesson in a fifth grade classroom of four students—two boys and two girls. The girls said close to nothing throughout the class, while the boys were clearly more animated and charismatic. The girls were shy, reluctant to share their opinions, and hesitant even when asked direct questions. “What do you want to learn about today?” Shrug. We talked about animals. “Do you have cats in your house?” One word answer.

In my family’s house, I saw it as well—my host mom was very timid, and barely spoke above a whisper to anyone. I rarely saw her outside of the kitchen or dining room, except when she was outside collecting eggs from her hens. It was clear that my host dad had all the power in their relationship, and he would oftentimes speak for her. While my host brother and host sister both attended the same university, Ruly lived in Temuco during the week, while Mabel commuted to school every day so she could be home to help her mother with the house.

In the community, even during program-sponsored activities, I saw even more. One activity we partook in was a game of palin, a traditional Mapuche sport which is kind of like field hockey. After everyone from SIT was given sticks, community members, including kids from the school were invited to join…but only males were given sticks. We were then asked to team up, and a ten-year-old girl, Carolina, who I had been talking to asked if she could be on our team, to which I said of course, although we didn’t have a stick for her. So I played for ten minutes or so to be polite, and then I asked Roberto if I could give Carolina my stick so she could play. He kind of shrugged, but gave me the go-ahead…so I gave her my stick and she played in the game.



I still feel weird about it. I feel weird that I asked and feel weird that I had to ask. It’s another big who am I question: Who am I as some gringa feminist, educated at a private college in the United States, raised in a completely different world, to come into Chapod, Chile and give a little girl a palin stick?

Don’t get me wrong though, I had an excellent time in Temuco. It was refreshing to be back in the countryside, to breathe fresh air, and to play soccer in a field where, every once in awhile, a pig would wander by. And, even though I witnessed a lot of things I perceive as negative, I think I’ve gained a lot of insight into a world that I had never even heard of before two months ago. Net gain? Maybe.

Learn to Count to Ten in a Dying Language (Mapudungun 101):

Kiñe - 1
Epu - 2
Küla - 3
Meli - 4
Kechu - 5
Kayu - 6
Regle - 7
Pura - 8
Ailla - 9
Mari - 10

Favorite Photos from Temuco: