Memories of Pomatambo

Called as a witness in the trial of a massacre that took place 24 years ago in Ayacucho. There are things from yesterday that are quickly forgotten, and there are others remembered until death, even with details of voice, and especially of light, like that of that clear Andean morning in the sierra of Vilcashuamán. The sun rose as we passed through the Accomarca divide, and a road memory — a track, really — took us to Pomatambo before seven o'clock. Shortly afterward, the people of the village, many dressed in mourning, told us, between recounting and weeping, what had happened. No one was expecting us, and they had no time to prepare or rehearse anything. The pain was genuine, profound, devastating. The military patrol that burst into the village, they told us, arrested several local authorities at the place where they were preparing chicha for the communal festival.