LIMA – Sadith Silvano’s craftsmanship was born from ancient songs. Brush in hand, eyes fixed on the fabric, the Peruvian paints while singing. And through his voice, his ancestors speak.

“When we paint, we listen to the inspiration that comes from music and we connect to nature, to our elders,” Silvano, 36, said from her home and studio in Lima, Peru, where she moved twenty years ago from Paoyhan, a Shipibo-Konibo Indigenous community nestled in the Amazon.

“These pieces are sacred,” she added. “We bless our work with the energy of our songs.”

According to official figures, nearly 33,000 Shipibo-Konibo live in Peru.

Settled in the area around the Uyacali River, many have moved to urban areas like Cantagallo, the Lima neighborhood where Silvano lives.

Hand-painted textiles like the ones she makes have slowly gained recognition. Known as “kené”, they were declared “cultural heritage of the nation” by the Peruvian government in 2008.

Each kené is unique, say the Shipibo artisans. Each model speaks to a woman’s community, her worldview and her beliefs.

“Each creation tells a story,” said Silvano, dressed in traditional clothing, her head crowned with a beaded garment. “It’s a way for a Shipibo woman to distinguish herself.”

His profession is passed down from generation to generation. Wisdom being anchored in nature, the knowledge bequeathed by the elders connects the younger generations to their land.

Paoyhan, where Silvano was born, is 12 hours by plane and boat from Lima.

In his hometown, residents rarely speak languages ​​other than Shipibo. Doors and windows have no locks and people eat according to Mother Nature.

Adela Sampayo, a 48-year-old healer born in Masisea, not far from Paoyhan, moved to Cantagallo in 2000, but says all her skills come from the Amazon.

“Since I was little, my mother has been treating me with traditional medicine,” said Sampayo, sitting in the lotus position inside the house where she provides care. ayahuasca and other remedies for those suffering from an injured body or soul.

“She gave me plants to become stronger, to avoid getting sick, to have courage,” Sampayo said. “That’s how the plant energy started to grow in me.”

She also transmits her vision of the world through her textiles. Even though she doesn’t paint, she embroiders and each thread tells a story from home.

“Every plant has a spirit,” the healer said, pointing to the leaves embroidered on the fabric. “And medicinal plants come from God.”

The plants painted by Silvano also have meaning. One of them represents pure love. Another symbolizes a wise man. Another one, a snake.

“The anaconda is special to us,” Silvano said. “He is our protector, like a god who takes care of us and provides us with food and water.”

In ancient times, she said, her people believed the sun was their father and anacondas were their guardians. Colonization brought a new religion – Catholicism – and their indigenous worldview was diluted.

“Today we have different religions,” Silvano said. “Catholic, evangelical, but we also respect our other beliefs. »

For many years, after her father took her to Lima in hopes of a better future, she longed for its mountains, clear skies, and time alone in the jungle. Life in Paoyhan wasn’t exactly easy, but from a young age she learned to stay strong.

In the 1990s, Amazonian communities were affected by the violence of the Shining Path insurrection and illegal logging. Poverty and sexism were also common, so many Shibipo women taught themselves to deal with their anxiety through the heartfelt music they sang.

“When we encounter difficult times, we overcome them through our therapy: designing, painting, singing,” Silvano said. “We have a melodic song that heals our soul, and another that inspires us and brings us joy.”

Few Shipibo girls are encouraged to study or earn a living, Silvano said. Instead, they are taught to wait for a husband. And once married, to endure any abuse, cheating, or discomfort they may encounter.

“Even though we are suffering, people tell us: take him, he is the father of your children. Take him, he’s your husband,” Silvano said. “But deep down, we are hurt. So what do we do? We sing.

The lesson is taught from mothers to daughters: if you are in pain at home, take your laundry, your brush and leave. Go far away, alone, and sit down. Connect with your kené and paint. And while you paint, sing.

“This is our healing,” Silvano said. “Thanks to our songs, our kenés, we are free. »

In the workshop where she now works and raises her two children alone, Delia Pizarro makes jewelry. She also sings while creating birds with colored beads.

“I didn’t use to sing,” Pizarro said. “I was very submissive and didn’t like to talk, but Olin, Sadith’s sister, told me, ‘You can do this.’ So now I’m a single mother, but I can go wherever I want. I know how to defend myself and fight. I feel valued.

The figures for the products they produce for sale are varied. Besides anacondas, they like to represent jaguars, which represent women, and herons, cherished by the ancients.

A Shipibo textile can take up to a month and a half to make. The materials necessary for its manufacture – the fabric, the natural pigments – come from the Amazon.

The black color used by Silvano is extracted from a tree bark that grows in Paoyhan. The fabric is made from local cotton. The mud used to fix the colors comes from the Uyacali River.

“I love when a stranger comes in and leaves with something from my community,” Silvano said, touching one of his freshly painted textiles to bless it for a quick sale.

She said her people’s crafts were barely known when she and her father arrived in Lima 20 years ago. But according to her, things have now changed.

In Cantagallo, where around 500 Shipibo families have settled, many earn their living by selling their crafts.

“My art has empowered me and is my faithful companion,” Silvano said. “Thanks to my mother, my grandmother and my sisters, I have knowledge that has allowed me to open doors. »

“This is the energy of our children, our ancestral world and our community,” she added, her textiles still in her hands. “This is the inspiration for our songs.”

____

Associated Press religion coverage receives AP support collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.