I could tell you the story of Cantagallo, but there are others much better suited to do so. It is a place that’s been photographed, filmed, mapped, and written about by many—mostly, but not always, from outside.
So I will try to be brief in setting the stage: Cantagallo is a community of about 300 people, founded and inhabited by indigenous Shipibo families from the Amazonian region of Ucayali, built atop a landfill alongside the contaminated Rímac river—in the center of Lima. For this, but also, especially, for its integrity, exuberance, murals and traditions, it draws fascination, admiration, and inevitably, exoticization. A quick google search reveals pages of articles about this place, written from a range of registers and perspectives—dramatized news segments, ethnographic analyses, alternative grassroots cartography projects, and briefings from indigenous rights groups, to name a few.
Here's a taste, from a segment on the Peruvian news network Panamericana:
So I will try to be brief in setting the stage: Cantagallo is a community of about 300 people, founded and inhabited by indigenous Shipibo families from the Amazonian region of Ucayali, built atop a landfill alongside the contaminated Rímac river—in the center of Lima. For this, but also, especially, for its integrity, exuberance, murals and traditions, it draws fascination, admiration, and inevitably, exoticization. A quick google search reveals pages of articles about this place, written from a range of registers and perspectives—dramatized news segments, ethnographic analyses, alternative grassroots cartography projects, and briefings from indigenous rights groups, to name a few.
Here's a taste, from a segment on the Peruvian news network Panamericana:
“Ellos llegaron a Lima provenientes de la selva en busca de una mejor calidad de vida. Al borde del caudoloso y peligroso río Rímac construyeron sus precarias viviendas en donde permanecen en las más extremas condiciones de pobreza. A continuación conoceremos a este grupo de nativos shipibos que vive en la rivera del río hablador.”
(They came to Lima from the jungle in search of a better life. Along the edge of the mighty and dangerous Rimac River they constructed their precarious homes, where they live in conditions of extreme poverty. Next, we’ll meet this group of shipibo natives who live by the “rio hablador” [the “talkative river,” as the Rímac is called by limeños])
It’s worth noting the different ways a place may be represented, and what is at stake in such differences. Shipibo filmmaker Ronald Suárez Maynas’ portrait of his own community gives us a different frame, and a kind of intimacy specific to the insider:
(They came to Lima from the jungle in search of a better life. Along the edge of the mighty and dangerous Rimac River they constructed their precarious homes, where they live in conditions of extreme poverty. Next, we’ll meet this group of shipibo natives who live by the “rio hablador” [the “talkative river,” as the Rímac is called by limeños])
It’s worth noting the different ways a place may be represented, and what is at stake in such differences. Shipibo filmmaker Ronald Suárez Maynas’ portrait of his own community gives us a different frame, and a kind of intimacy specific to the insider:
In many of the representations from outside the community, familiar narrative tropes get deployed – a picture of a place low in resources but abundant in creativity, community, and culture, succinctly synthesized in the title of the July 2014 Al Jazeera America article, “The Shipibo-Konibo of Cantagallo: Preserving indigenous culture in a slum.”
And of course, these are not necessarily inaccurate descriptions. The AJA piece is a warm and informative portrait of some of the textures, alongside the precariousness, of Cantagallo—precarious not in the structure of its homes, but in the imminent possibility of being uprooted from its location.
The city of Lima is in the midst of a $703-million development project alongside the Rímac: the Vía Parque Rímac, which includes a tunnel and a highway connecting several parts of the enormous metropolis. Eventually, the construction will reach Cantagallo, and they’ll be forced to leave. A new mayor took office this month, and his administration claims they’ll honor the promise of the former mayor to relocate the whole community together; but many—from within and outside the community—say they'll believe it when it happens.
And of course, these are not necessarily inaccurate descriptions. The AJA piece is a warm and informative portrait of some of the textures, alongside the precariousness, of Cantagallo—precarious not in the structure of its homes, but in the imminent possibility of being uprooted from its location.
The city of Lima is in the midst of a $703-million development project alongside the Rímac: the Vía Parque Rímac, which includes a tunnel and a highway connecting several parts of the enormous metropolis. Eventually, the construction will reach Cantagallo, and they’ll be forced to leave. A new mayor took office this month, and his administration claims they’ll honor the promise of the former mayor to relocate the whole community together; but many—from within and outside the community—say they'll believe it when it happens.
The first time I went to Cantagallo was with Lisandro and Jacy, two of INFANT’s community programs facilitators. Since 2010, INFANT has worked with children and teens from Cantagallo, many of whom work themselves—selling in local stores, sewing and altering clothing, or making artesanía, among others. Together they have formed the organization NNATSCAP: Niños, Niñas y Adolescentes Trabajadores de Cantagallo Perú (Working Boys, Girls and Teens of Cantagallo, Perú) The young folks in the room took turns introducing themselves to me, and telling me a little about themselves and their community. They spoke proudly of what it meant to them to be indigenous—speaking the language of their ancestors, participating in community traditions—and also of their interests and passions.
I am thrilled to have begun working directly with two sharp, curious and thoughtful teens from Cantagallo--leaders and original members of NNATSCAP--who are interested in making their own media. Their plan is to document this moment in the life of their community, by looking to where it came from, and where it might be going. They are in a unique position to explore the memories and perspectives of their family members and friends as they await possible displacement. And I am in the often-occupied position of "outsider" fascinated by the uniqueness of this community; thankful to be able to spend so much time there, and excited to see what these producers-in-training come up with. They've been getting comfortable with their audio recorders, and next week we’ll get started with cameras. I look forward to sharing their work in future blog posts.