Published: May 2002
Inca Rescue
By Guillermo A. Cock
Squatting in a pit dug for the dead, local worker Felix Mejia exposes the tops of two Inca skulls. Also visible is a piece of copper and two spondylus shells, valuable artifacts suggesting that those buried here were of high rank.

In a sprawling shantytown called Tupac Amaru on the outskirts of Lima, children play in the dust of ages. Beneath their feet, preserved by the bone-dry soil, lies one of the largest Inca cemeteries yet found in Peru. This pre-Hispanic site, known to archaeologists as Puruchuco-Huaquerones, dates from the Late Horizon (1438 to 1532). Though it has been designated a national monument, my team of scientists has had to race against development to pull the past out from under the burgeoning present. Beneath the schoolyard alone, one of 15 areas examined in three years, we've salvaged more than 120 mummy bundles (layers of cloth encasing a body and personal effects) typical of pre-Inca and Inca burials.

The story of how Tupac Amaru came to be is a common one in Peru. In 1989 some 340 families fleeing guerrilla activity in the highlands settled on this property, misled by land traffickers to believe they would soon be given title. Meanwhile, six feet (two meters) under and defenseless against the sudden influx of sewage and water, the mummies were decomposing. Some squatters dug them up and burned them, hoping to avoid a scientific excavation that would delay town development.

Though much damage was done in subsequent years, the Peruvian Institute of Culture (INC) finally did request an archaeological evaluation of the area. I arrived from Lima in 1999, tools and team in tow. Not wanting to be relocated by the government, the townspeople—then more than 1,240 families—agreed to stop leveling the land and even scraped together money to help fund our work. They hoped it would be a long-term investment, encouraging the government to give them what the traffickers couldn't: clear land titles and basic utilities.

At first the residents assumed we would loot the tombs or dig briefly and halfheartedly, pocketing leftover funds. But we hired locals to help excavate, soon earning their trust. In addition, the INC visited the site weekly. In three field seasons we've removed, examined, and photographed more than 2,200 individuals of all ages and ranks buried within 75 years of one another. At 20 acres this is the second largest cemetery ever excavated in Peru (after Ancón) and the largest from a single time period. A local museum will ultimately display these cultural treasures.

As we continue to delve into the past, life in Tupac Amaru flourishes. Children frolic on sacred ground, running along the rims of our excavations, peering into the tomb of a dead man who has claimed their soccer ball. Some believe the spirits of the deceased have caused a spate of illnesses here, including my own lingering cough. Indeed, inhaling dust of the dead can lead to bacterial infection. Yet many say they are not fearful but elated by their privileged view of those who walked this land before them.

Secrets Under the Schoolyard

A villager prepares a massive, undisturbed mummy bundle for removal from the excavated schoolyard. It took four men and a sturdy plank to raise the 380-pound (172 kilograms) bundle from its grave without breaking the brittle bones inside. We call such mummy bundles falsas after the false heads (textiles stuffed with cotton) propped on top. Headdress feathers, a sign of high status, still cling to the scalp of a mummy found nearby. The copper star, unearthed south of the school, once embellished a warrior's shield made of cane and reeds. The dry climate helped maintain these treasures, but so did the people who buried them—by sealing the tombs with sand, rubble, and ceramic sherds.

A Funerary Bundle Unfurled

We nicknamed one truly unique mummy the Cotton King because he was bundled in some 300 pounds (136 kilograms) of raw cotton. Typically the Inca wrapped their nobles in finished cloth. Weeks into the unveiling, members of my team were still picking through the stuffing with their fingers, making sure no tiny artifacts were left tangled within. A baby, probably related, shared his bale; the baby's removal left an eerie gap in the cotton. The extensive packing and wide assortment of items buried with them suggest an elite pair.

Their souls were thought to keep in touch with the living, so the Inca dead were well tended. The Cotton King was buried with every-day items—food, pottery, animal skins, and corn to make chicha, a fermented drink. Other objects signified his high place in society: Exotic bird feathers adorned his headband, which doubled as a slingshot; his mace, or club, signified a powerful warrior; and his sandals were a type worn by the upper class. Most revealing of his wealth were offerings of Spondylus, oyster shells imported from warm waters off the coast of Ecuador.

The baby who shared his bundle lay with its legs straight out, but the man's pose, like the cotton stuffing, puzzled us: Rather than tucked in the fetal position typical of adults, his knees were bent as if kneeling, his toes pointed like a dancer's. Is there meaning in this eccentric city? We aren't yet sure.

Bound for the Afterlife

The Cotton King's leathery hands clutch fabric, a shell, and a chalky ball of lime made from an aggregate of minerals. Locals today still chew lime with coca leaves to extract the stimulant within. The mummy is cleaned and sketched, finally free of cotton and most of the 170 items buried with him. These artifacts include corn, peanuts, sweet potatoes, beans, and a gourd filled with lime powder; silver and copper tupus—pins to hold a garment closed; and a wooden comb with tines from a spiny plant and silver tweezers, black with corrosion. A figure unearthed nearby still decorates the handle of a ceramic vessel.

Textiles for Eternity

Peruvian weavers were masters of elegance. An elaborate headdress with imported bird feathers and fish designs had a foot-tall crown, two earflaps, and a long panel that draped down the back of the wearer, who would have been a person of high rank. Even a simple woven bag was a medley of colors and fabrics. Decorative cloth also cloaked the youngest mummies, for us the saddest finds. Nearly half of those buried here were children, who often suffered from anemia and were vulnerable to infection. Carefully tended after death, both young and old were well equipped for immortality.