Peru

In the arid coastal plains of South America, long before the rise of Rome or the Golden Age of Greece, a civilization was stirring. This is the story of Peru, a land of staggering contrasts, where empires were born in the clouds and shattered by ambition. Our journey begins over 5,000 years ago with the Sacred City of Caral-Supe. Here, on a desert terrace, people without pottery or warfare built monumental pyramids and circular plazas, organizing their society around complex ceremony and astronomical observation. They were the first note in a symphony of cultures that would echo through millennia. As centuries passed, this coastal desert and the towering Andes mountains became a crucible of innovation. The Nazca people etched enigmatic geoglyphs into the earth, figures of animals and symbols so vast they can only be truly seen from the sky—a permanent, silent message to their gods. Further north, the Moche forged a warrior society, immortalizing their life in stunningly realistic pottery. Their portraits reveal the faces of rulers, priests, and commoners, while their ceremonial centers, like the Huaca de la Luna, were stages for brutal, ritualistic sacrifice. In 1987, the unearthing of the tomb of the Lord of Sipán revealed a Moche ruler buried with unimaginable wealth and eight other individuals, a testament to their power and belief in the afterlife.

From this mosaic of powerful regional states, one group, initially a small tribe in the Cusco valley, began an expansion that would define an era. They called their empire Tawantinsuyu, the Realm of the Four Parts. We know them as the Inca. Under the visionary leadership of their ninth ruler, Pachacuti, in the mid-15th century, the Inca began a campaign of conquest and assimilation that was breathtaking in its speed and scale. Within a century, their domain stretched over 4,000 kilometers, from modern-day Colombia to central Chile, encompassing dense jungles, arid coasts, and the very spine of the Andes. This was not an empire held by force alone, but by brilliant administration. At its head was the Sapa Inca, a divine emperor, the son of the sun god, Inti. Society was a rigid pyramid, with every citizen's life meticulously organized. A sophisticated system of tribute, the 'mita', required citizens to perform labor for the state, building the colossal infrastructure that bound the empire together. The most spectacular example was the Qhapaq Ñan, a 40,000-kilometer network of engineered roads, complete with bridges, tunnels, and storehouses, that allowed armies, messengers, and goods to move with incredible efficiency. Lacking a written script, they managed this vast enterprise using the 'quipu', an intricate system of knotted, colored strings that recorded census data, taxes, and perhaps even histories.

Inca architects were masters of stone, fitting massive, irregular boulders together without mortar so perfectly that a knife blade cannot be inserted between them. Their fortresses, like the zigzagging walls of Sacsayhuamán above Cusco, and their royal estates, like the transcendent Machu Picchu, perched on a mountain ridge, were not just structures but expressions of a profound connection to the landscape. They were a people who commanded mountains. But even the most powerful empires are fragile. In the 1520s, a devastating smallpox epidemic, an unseen invader from a world unknown, swept south, killing the reigning Sapa Inca and his heir. The resulting power vacuum ignited a brutal civil war between two half-brothers, Huáscar and Atahualpa. Just as Atahualpa emerged victorious, a new, far more dangerous threat appeared on the coast. In 1532, Francisco Pizarro, a Spanish conquistador with just 168 men, driven by rumors of a kingdom of gold, marched inland. He was armed with steel, gunpowder, and horses—creatures the Inca had never seen. In the city of Cajamarca, Pizarro arranged a meeting with Atahualpa, who arrived with thousands of lightly armed retainers, confident in his power. In a shocking ambush that lasted mere hours, the Spanish, their cannons roaring, slaughtered the Inca retinue and captured the emperor himself.

Atahualpa, a prisoner, made a desperate bid for freedom. He offered a ransom that beggared the imagination: to fill a room measuring 22 feet by 17 feet once with gold and twice with silver. For months, a river of priceless artifacts—sacred idols, ceremonial jewelry, and intricate artworks—flowed into Cajamarca from every corner of the empire, a testament to its immense wealth. The Spanish melted it all down into ingots. Yet, after the ransom was paid, Pizarro, fearing the Inca's influence, put Atahualpa on trial for treason and had him executed. The capture and murder of their divine king decapitated the Inca Empire. The Spanish, aided by rival indigenous groups eager to throw off the Inca yoke, marched on Cusco and seized control. The conquest was complete, but the spirit of resistance was not extinguished. For decades, a rump Inca state held out in the jungle fastness of Vilcabamba, a symbol of defiance against the invaders.

What followed was the Viceroyalty of Peru, the jewel in Spain's colonial crown. Lima, the newly founded “City of Kings,” became a center of immense power and wealth, its coffers filled by the silver extracted from the mountain of Potosí. This wealth, however, was built on the backs of the indigenous population. Under the brutal 'encomienda' and 'mita' systems, millions were forced into grueling, often fatal, labor in the mines and on the haciendas. A rigid caste system, the 'castas', was imposed, with Spanish-born 'peninsulares' at the top and indigenous and African peoples at the bottom. Yet, amidst the oppression, a new culture was forged. Catholicism blended with Andean beliefs in a vibrant syncretism that continues to this day. Churches were built atop Inca temples, their altars decorated with gold mined by indigenous hands, while ancient mountain gods, the 'apus', were revered alongside Christian saints. For nearly 300 years, Peru remained under Spanish rule, a society of deep inequality and simmering resentment.

By the early 19th century, the winds of revolution sweeping across America and Europe reached Peru. The struggle for independence was a long and bloody affair. The Argentinian general José de San Martín declared Peru's independence in Lima in 1821, but royalist forces remained entrenched in the Andean highlands. The fight was ultimately won by the armies of Simón Bolívar, culminating in the decisive Battle of Ayacucho in 1824, which shattered the last vestiges of Spanish power in South America. Freedom, however, did not bring stability. The new Republic of Peru was plagued by political turmoil, military coups, and border disputes with its neighbors, including the devastating War of the Pacific against Chile, which resulted in the loss of valuable territory. The 20th century was a period of dramatic swings, from the fleeting riches of the guano and rubber booms—industries with their own horrific human costs—to deep economic crises and political violence. In the 1980s and 90s, the nation was terrorized by the brutal insurgency of the Shining Path, a conflict that left nearly 70,000 dead. Yet, from the ashes of this dark period, a new Peru has emerged. Today, it is a nation that proudly embraces its complex identity. Its past is not buried, but alive in the stones of Machu Picchu, the faces of its people, and the vibrant flavors of its world-renowned cuisine. It is a land whose story, written in deserts, mountains, and blood, continues to unfold.