THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO

BECOMING INKA: THE TRANSFORMATION OF POLITICAL PLACE AND PRACTICE

DURING INKA STATE FORMATION (CUSCO, PERU)

A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED TO
THE FACULTY OF THE DIVISION OF SOCIAL SCIENCES
IN CANDIDACY FOR THE DEGREE OF
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

DEPARTMENT OF ANTHROPOLOGY

BY
STEVEN BRIAN KOSIBA

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
JUNE 2010

 2010 by Steven Kosiba

To my uncle, Roman Kosiba, for his inspiring love of history

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgments ........................................................................................................................ vii

List of Figures .............................................................................................................................. xii
List of Tables .............................................................................................................................. xvi

INTRODUCTION .......................................................................................................................... 1
CHAPTER ONE: Making the Imperial Heartland: Inka Incorporation of the Cusco Area ........... 5
Archaeological Accounts of State Integration ............................................................................ 8
Theories of Inka Governance .................................................................................................... 11
Critique: From Integration to Incorporation.............................................................................. 17
Inka Authority and Andean Tradition ....................................................................................... 19
Re-envisioning Inka State Formation: Putting Political Authority in Place ............................. 23
Previous Research in the Cusco Region .................................................................................... 26
Empirical Setting: The Survey Region ..................................................................................... 27
Site Selection: Wata ................................................................................................................. 37
Research Design ........................................................................................................................ 39
Methodology ............................................................................................................................. 40
First Research Phase: Systematic Survey .............................................................................. 41
Second Research Phase: Mapping and Surface Collections .................................................. 45
Third Research Phase: Excavations at Wata ........................................................................ 47
Fourth Research Phase: Analysis of Excavated Materials .................................................... 51
Conclusions ............................................................................................................................... 56
CHAPTER TWO: Cultivating the Past: Order and Authority in Inka Narratives ........................ 58
Excavating Inka History ............................................................................................................ 62
Behetrias and Barbarians: An Andean Dark Ages?................................................................ 63
Epochal History within Inka Narratives .................................................................................... 68
From Disorder to Order ............................................................................................................. 84
History: Incorporating the Pre-Inka Other is Making Inka Order ............................................. 87
Ordering the Other: Place Transformation, Social Difference, and Inka Authority ................. 92
Summary and Conclusion ....................................................................................................... 102

iv

CHAPTER THREE: The Politics of Locality: Pre-Inka Social Landscapes of the Ollanta Area
(ca. 1000 1300 C.E.) ................................................................................................................. 105
Horizons, Intermediate Periods, and the Tragedy of Locality ................................................ 111
Rethinking the Late Intermediate Period ................................................................................ 117
A Politics of Localization: Ollanta Phase Settlement Patterns ............................................... 125
The Historical Underpinnings of the Ollanta Phase Settlement Pattern ................................. 129
Processes of Localization: Ollanta Phase Socioeconomic Practices and Land Use ............... 143
Producing a Region of Localities: Mortuary Practices and Places ......................................... 159
Conclusions: Considering Locality ......................................................................................... 170
CHAPTER FOUR: Emplacing Authority: The Transformation of Local Places and Practices
throughout Inka Political Consolidation (ca. 1300 1400 C.E.) ................................................ 175
Investigating Inka Incorporation ............................................................................................. 176
The Advent of Inka Rule within the Ollantaytambo Area ...................................................... 182
Changes in Political Practices at OP Sites .............................................................................. 188
Emplacing Authority: The Inka Renovation of Wata ........................................................... 199
Stories of Fire and Bloodshed: The Inka Destruction of Wata? ............................................ 204
Wata before the Inkas ............................................................................................................ 208
Formal Changes in Architecture and Spatial Practice of Wata.............................................. 213
Excavation Differences between OP and Inka Contexts at Wata .......................................... 218
Intramural and Extramural Sectors at Wata ........................................................................... 225
Discussion: Remaking Pre-Inka Places, Making the Inka State ............................................. 229
Conclusions: Emplacing and Defining Traditions of Authority ............................................. 233
CHAPTER FIVE: Becoming Inka: Rituals of Destruction and Conversion at Wata, a Pre-Inka
town in the Cusco Region ........................................................................................................... 238
Under the Plaza ...................................................................................................................... 243
In Storage Structures ............................................................................................................... 259
Atop the House ........................................................................................................................ 275
Discussion: Concealing the Past, Emplacing the Present ....................................................... 288
Conclusions: Becoming Inka Subjects ................................................................................ 294
CHAPTER SIX: Authority in Transition: Summary and Conclusions ...................................... 297
A State Narrative ..................................................................................................................... 297
From Narrativization to Naturalization: Pre-Inka Locality and Inka Regionalism................. 299
Producing State Subjects ......................................................................................................... 307
Emplacing Authority ............................................................................................................... 309
v

Appendix A: Radiocarbon Dates ................................................................................................ 312

Appendix B: Survey Data ........................................................................................................... 316
Appendix C: Excavation Data .................................................................................................... 336

BIBLIOGRAPHY ....................................................................................................................... 347

vi

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Archaeological field research for this study was conducted in accordance with the
regulations of the Peruvian Instituto Nacional de Cultura (INC). The project was approved by the
INC-Cusco in June, 2005 (INC Resolucin No. 02841). Pre-field research was generously
funded through a grant awarded by the University of Chicago Center of Latin American Studies,
a University of Chicago Dissertation Overseas Dissertation Research Grant, as well as several
field research grants provided by the Tinker Foundation at the University of Chicago. The Wata
Archaeological Projects (WAP) systematic archaeological survey and intensive excavations
were funded by a Fulbright-Hays Doctoral Dissertation Research Abroad (DDRA) Fellowship.
Subsequently, a National Science Foundation (NSF) Dissertation Improvement Grant provided
funds for materials analysis and radiocarbon dates. Finally, a University of Chicago Social
Sciences Collegiate Division (SSCD) Teaching-Writing Fellowship provided support for the
conceptualization and interpretation of these archaeological results.
In reflecting upon the years of intense study and fieldwork that contributed to this
dissertation, I recognize how fortunate I have been to receive excellent guidance from so many
people. Above all others, I sincerely thank all of my committee members. Particularly, my cochairs, Alan Kolata and Adam Smith, have been incredibly effective and supportive mentors
who, in countless theoretical debates and discussions, have encouraged and motivated me to
think beyond the boundaries of traditional anthropological approaches to political life. Kathy
Morrison has also been truly insightful academic who has consistently provided productive
criticism and support. Whether discussing Roman imperialism while in the Mediterranean, or the
vii

Chicago Blues while watching Magic Slim, Mickey Dietler has long been an intellectually
engaging mentor and an inspiring interlocutor. Finally, I am deeply indebted to Brian Bauer who
has been a great adviser in Inka archaeology, as well as a close reader and a thoughtful critic.
Altogether, my committee members are the standard of scholarly excellence and academic
professionalism. I seek to uphold this standard. Moreover, their enthusiasm and passion for
anthropology has taught me to love what I do. For this I am incredibly grateful.
In addition, I am very appreciative of the assistance and advice that I have received from
several archaeologists and historians in Per. Lucho Cuba, an esteemed Cusco region
archaeologist, first took to me to Wata and suggested that I think of this site as a focal point for
a broader discussion of Inka state consolidation. Throughout my fieldwork and analysis,
Vicentina Galiano, a Cusco region archaeologist, was both an amazing co-director and a close
friend. I was extremely fortunate to have the opportunity to work with such a careful
archaeologist, insightful intellectual and compassionate person thank you, Viky. Moreover,
Jorge Florres brought a keen scientific perspective to both our survey and excavations. Carlos
and Lucho Soculaya also offered their unique skills and perspectives to this project.
In addition to professional archaeologists, many local people offered invaluable insights
into this project. Leonardo Huaman, who is both family and friend, recommended that I embark
on a series of horse trips in order to observe local agricultural and pastoral labor. These
excursions motivated me to think of localities as extended social networks comprised of an array
of socioeconomic practices. Also, Raul (Tio) Palma offered a place to unwind in Ollantaytambo,
while providing a context for countless fire-lit hours of stimulating conversation about the recent
social history of the town, as well as the numerous local beliefs and stories that (often quite
literally) stem from its landscape. Julio Cesar Tica is the most incredible cook, excavator, and
viii

huayno enthusiast that I have ever known. Blas Vilca, who can see the flake of a maize kernel
among a matrix of burnt bone and earth, added an astonishing sense of humor and work ethic to
the project. Moreover, Teresa Tica Solis has repeatedly opened her home, hearth, and heart to
members of this project. From these people (and many more), I have learned more about
archaeology, landscapes, the Inkas, and the Andes than one could ever learn in a classroom. I
hope that this dissertation reflects their hard work and their passion for knowledge.
My knowledge of Cusco region archaeology and history was fostered in innumerable
invigorating conversations with both American and Peruvian archaeologists, especially: Gordon
McEwan, Brian Bauer, Melissa Chatfield, Alan Covey, Arminda Gibaja, Alfredo Valencia,
Lucho Cuba, and Luis Barreda. I greatly benefited from the different theoretical points of view
and methodological perspectives offered by these excellent scholars. I am profoundly thankful
for the assistance offered by Gordon McEwan, who first suggested that I conduct intensive
excavations to investigate the LIP-Inka transition within the Cusco region, and first introduced
me to notable scholars like Arminda Gibaja and Alfredo Valencia. Also, Alan Covey provided
invaluable assistance and insights throughout my fieldwork by helping me through the difficult
process of the project proposal, as well as the oftentimes-vexing process of data interpretation.
Upon returning from my fieldwork, I had the wonderful pleasure and fortune of
discussing my analysis, historical findings, and theoretical interpretations with many esteemed
scholars. I am especially grateful to Gary Urton for many fascinating conversations about
processes of abstraction and signification in the Andes. Likewise, many fruitful discussions with
John Janusek, Steve Wernke, and Tiffiny Tung have generated a host of ideas that will continue
to shape my work in years to come. Scott Branting and Todd Schuble provided much needed
assistance with GIS analysis and interpretation. Lastly, Edward Swenson has long been a source
ix

of inspiration and a thought-provoking interlocutor. I sincerely thank Ed for showing me the

ropes during my first archaeological fieldwork experience in Per, and then, subsequently,
offering such thoughtful advice on my work.
Many amazing people made the process of fieldwork and write-up such a memorable
experience. Zachary Chase and Phoebe France endured the thin air, aggressive fleas, and frosty
mornings at Wata to help me with this project by participating in the excavation of several
critical units. Overall, I am incredibly appreciative of and deeply indebted to Zachary Chase,
who has been a careful reader, a productive critic, a stimulating intellectual, and a very good
friend. B Rousse has provided knowledge and inspiration in innumerable philosophical
conversations and throughout many unforgettable experiences. During my final stages of writeup, Santiago Giraldo offered a keen eye to editing, while providing necessary emotional support
and amicable beer-drinking. Several other people at the University of Chicago have given
provocative criticism on my work, and have been incredible friends: Allison Kohn, Andrew
Bauer, Royal Ghazal, Maureen Marshall, Elizabeth Fagan, Madeleine McLeester, David
Pacifico, Anna Guengerich, Jonah Augustine, Alan Greene, and Kate Franklin. Finally, I warmly
thank Anne Chien, whose helpful advice and cheerful disposition have brightened many a grey
day at the University of Chicago.
My family has provided much support and love. My parents, Richard and Sharon Kosiba,
helped me through many difficult times in the field. They listened attentively to the latest fielddrama. They perused camping gear and digital camera catalogs to help me replace stolen or lost
equipment. They provided the emotional, motivational, and financial support that kept me going.

My most heartfelt thanks are for Meredith McGuire. Whether accompanying me in the
exploration of caves, reflecting upon the clientele and purpose of a Texas Roadhouse, scouring
museums for plastic artifacts from the recent past, or carefully reading and commenting on my
chapters, she has given me so much encouragement, inspiration, laughter, and hope. Mer: Thank
you for your constant support and love. Thank you for being a friend. Thank you for making this
an enjoyable process.

xi

LIST OF FIGURES

Figure 1.1: The Cusco region and the WAP survey area .............................................................. 30
Figure 1.2: The WAP survey zone and previously documented archaeological sites .................. 32
Figure 1.3: The three major river valleys of the survey zone ....................................................... 35
Figure 1.4: Archaeological surveys in the Cusco region .............................................................. 37
Figure 1.5: Wata .......................................................................................................................... 38
Figure 3.1: Map of the northern aspect of the Cusco region in which the WAP survey was
situated ........................................................................................................................................ 108
Figure 3.2: Photos of OP residential architecture ....................................................................... 122
Figure 3.3: Drawings of representative OP decorated serving vessel sherds (bowls) ................ 123
Figure 3.4: Drawings of representative OP decorated sherds ..................................................... 124
Figure 3.5: Map of the OP settlements and serving vessel densities that were documented
throughout the survey area. The map depicts a clustered settlement pattern.............................. 127
Figure 3.6: Map of occupational history from the Formative Period until the Ollanta Phase .... 134
Figure 3.7: Map of occupational history from the Middle Horizon until the Ollanta Phase ...... 135
Figure 3.8: Map of OP settlements and serving vessel densities relative to potential maize
production terrain ........................................................................................................................ 139
Figure 3.9: Map of settlement cluster areas used for the ceramic analysis................................. 146
Figure 3.10: Photos of OP ceramics external surface treatment ................................................. 146
Figure 3.11: Graphs showing patterns in decorative attributes of pottery derived from the four
settlement clusters in the survey zone. ........................................................................................ 147
Figure 3.12: Raw counts of different ceramic decoration types per settlement cluster area. ..... 147
Figure 3.13: Map of the distribution of Qotakalle and Araway ceramic sherds within the survey
area .............................................................................................................................................. 154
Figure 3.14: Photos of OP Architecture: D-Shaped houses and agglutinated structures were only
documented at the towns. ............................................................................................................ 156
Figure 3.15: Graph of published radiocarbon dates that correspond to the Ollanta Phase ......... 157
Figure 3.16: Photos of two contrasting tomb types: closed tombs and discrete complexes ....... 162
Figure 3.17: Photos of open tomb types documented throughout the survey zone. ................... 163
Figure 3.18: Map showing the distribution of mortuary architecture styles throughout the survey
area .............................................................................................................................................. 164
Figure 3.19: Map showing the distribution of open tomb complexes ........................................ 166
Figure 3.20: Map showing the intra-site spatial layout of Markaqocha ..................................... 167
Figure 3.21: Photo of the tomb complex from the OP town at Markaqocha. ............................. 167
Figure 3.22: Graph of correlation between tomb site types and OP serving vessel densities .... 168
Figure 4.1: Photos of Inka niched buildings ............................................................................... 179
Figure 4.2: Photos of Inka polychrome serving vessels ............................................................. 180
xii

Figure 4.3: Drawings of Inka polychrome serving vessels ......................................................... 181

Figure 4.4: Drawings showing differences in vessel form that distinguish OP and Inka serving
vessels ......................................................................................................................................... 181
Figure 4.5: Drawings showing rim forms that distinguish OP and Inka serving vessels ........... 182
Figure 4.6: Map of Inka period settlement patterns and serving vessel densities....................... 185
Figure 4.7: Bar graphs demonstrating Inka period continuity in site distribution relative to
Andean eco-zones ....................................................................................................................... 187
Figure 4.8: Map showing the relation between OP and Inka serving vessel densities at sites
recorded throughout the survey region ....................................................................................... 190
Figure 4.9: Map showing the relation between Inka niched buildings and OP sites that contained
high densities of OP serving vessels ........................................................................................... 191
Figure 4.10: Graph showing the relation between OP serving vessel densities and percentages of
relative to the presence of formal Inka architecture.................................................................... 193
Figure 4.11: Graph showing the relation between Inka serving vessel densities and percentages
relative to the presence of formal Inka architecture.................................................................... 194
Figure 4.12: Graph showing the relation between tomb types and percentages of OP serving
vessels, relative to the presence of formal Inka architecture like niched buildings .................... 194
Figure 4.13: Perimeter walls at Wata and Pumamarka ............................................................. 196
Figure 4.14: Plan of Wata showing how different residential sectors are spatially segregated by
the sites massive wall. ............................................................................................................... 197
Figure 4.15: Aerial photo and macro-scale sketch map of Pumamarka showing how different
sectors are spatially segregated by the sites massive wall ......................................................... 197
Figure 4.16: Radiocarbon dates derived from Ollantaytambo area pre-Inka sites that were
transformed throughout the process of Inka state formation ...................................................... 198
Figure 4.17: Photo of the west face (and principal entrance) of Wata. ..................................... 201
Figure 4.18: Plan of Wata emphasizing the distribution of Inka period structures and sectors.
Inset shows the south profile of Wata ....................................................................................... 202
Figure 4.19: Map of excavation units in the intramural sector of Wata .................................... 203
Figure 4.20: Map of excavation units in the extramural sector of Wata ................................... 203
Figure 4.21: Photos of Inka architecture at Wata ...................................................................... 206
Figure 4.22: Graph showing the radiocarbon date ranges for several Cusco region Inka sites .. 207
Figure 4.23: Photo of OP structures beneath the Inka plaza ....................................................... 210
Figure 4.24: Photo of an Inka period platform withinWata. ..................................................... 215
Figure 4.25: Plan of Wata emphasizing its Inka period platform spaces and limited pathways
between such platforms............................................................................................................... 216
Figure 4.26: Density plot of OP decorated serving vessel fragments within Wata ................... 217
Figure 4.27: Density plot of Inka serving vessel fragments within Wata ................................. 217
Figure 4.28: Photos of Colcha sherds recovered throughout the WAP excavations. ................. 223
Figure 4.29: Photos of Pacajes sherds recovered throughout the WAP excavations.................. 224
xiii

Figure 4.30: Photos of non-local sherds of unknown geographical origin that were recovered
throughout the WAP excavations. .............................................................................................. 224
Figure 4.31: Photo of guayaba seeds were recovered in Inka levels of Wata ........................... 225
Figure 5.1: Plan of Wat'a. ........................................................................................................... 242
Figure 5.2: Photos of the plaza sector of Wata and its monumental niched buildings .............. 246
Figure 5.3: Photo of an immense multi-colored sandstone outcrop at Wata ............................. 247
Figure 5.4: Photo of pre-Inka buildings under the Inka plaza .................................................... 250
Figure 5.5: Close-up photo of the OP architectural alignments uncovered within Unit 17 (2x4m)
of the WAP excavations.............................................................................................................. 251
Figure 5.6: Plan drawing of the OP architectural alignments uncovered within Unit 17 (2x4m) of
the WAP excavations .................................................................................................................. 251
Figure 5.7: Plan drawing of OP architectural alignments uncovered within Unit 10 (2x2m) of the
WAP excavations ........................................................................................................................ 252
Figure 5.8: Graph showing how percentages of decorated ceramics (by weight in grams)
drastically increase within the levels (4, 5) of Units 10 and 17 that correspond to the destruction
of the preceding occupation. ....................................................................................................... 253
Figure 5.9: Graphs illustrating how peaks in Ceramic Weight to Count Indices correspond to the
levels of infilling in both the plaza sector units (level 5 in Unit 17, and level 4 in Unit 10)...... 254
Figure 5.10: Photos of whole Inka vessels that were smashed above the fill level .................... 255
Figure 5.11: Photos of profiles from Unit 17 clearly show a dense ash layer situated above the fill
and architectural alignments, yet below the plaza floor ............................................................. 256
Figure 5.12: Profile drawings of the plaza excavation (Unit 17). ............................................... 257
Figure 5.13: Graphs showing how higher percentages of burnt ceramics and fauna coincided with
the ash. ........................................................................................................................................ 258
Figure 5.14: Photos of OP ovoid structures at Wata ................................................................. 261
Figure 5.15: Plan of Unit 16 excavations.................................................................................... 262
Figure 5.16: Photos of a canal and other OP architectural elements that were buried beneath the
floor of an Inka niched building (Unit 16). ................................................................................. 262
Figure 5.17: Photos of ventilation shafts and burn scars on OP ovoid structures ...................... 263
Figure 5.18: Graphs showing patterns of ceramic breakage in the ovoid structures .................. 266
Figure 5.19: Photo of smashed whole pots within the ovoid structures ..................................... 266
Figure 5.20: Photos showing the ash layer concentrated above the initial layers of the ovoid
structure in Unit 15, and the massive amount of broken material within this structure ............. 270
Figure 5.21: Photos showing the llama mandibula and broken vessels concentrated above the
initial layers of the ovoid structure in Unit 16, and the massive amount of broken material within
this structure ................................................................................................................................ 271
Figure 5.22: Unit 15 plan ............................................................................................................ 271
Figure 5.23: Map of storage building locations in Wata ........................................................... 273
Figure 5.24: Different views of the buried OP architectural features within Unit 6C. ............... 277
xiv

Figure 5.25: OP architectural elements beneath the Inka floor within Unit 6. ........................... 278
Figure 5.26: Graph showing a sharp increase in the weights of deposited material within specific
levels of two quadrants within Unit 6 that correspond to the OP-Inka transition....................... 279
Figure 5.27: Graph illustrating increases in burnt ceramic and fauna percentages within specific
levels of U6C .............................................................................................................................. 280
Figure 5.28: Photo of a human burial, cuy offering, and a row of cobbles that were all directly
associated with the OP walls underneath the Inka building of Unit 6. ....................................... 282
Figure 5.29: Photos of offerings beneath the Inka house............................................................ 282
Figure 5.30: Plan of Unit 6 that highlights only offerings and their depths ............................... 284
Figure 5.31: Photos of smashed whole vessels within the ash layer underneath the Inka floor. 284
Figure 5.32: Photo of a burial situated at the nexus of OP walls underneath the Inka floor ...... 285
Figure 5.33: Profile of Unit 6...................................................................................................... 286

Figure A.1: Graph showing the radiocarbon date ranges for Ollantaytambo area sites ............. 313
Figure A.2: Graph showing the radiocarbon date ranges for Cusco region sites ....................... 315

xv

LIST OF TABLES

Table 1.1: Site size and serving vessel categories used throughout throughout this study. ......... 43
Table 3.1: The Cusco region chronology relative to the generalized periodization used
throughout the Inka provinces. ................................................................................................... 119
Table 3.2: Radiocarbon dates taken from a sample Ollanta Phase sites ..................................... 158
Table 4.1: Settlement distribution across Andean eco-zones ..................................................... 187
Table 4.2: Summary of salient differences between Inka intramural and extramural excavation
contexts ....................................................................................................................................... 221
Table 4.3: Summary of salient differences between Inka intramural and Inka extramural
excavation contexts. .................................................................................................................... 228
Table 4.4: Radiocarbon dates from Wata. ................................................................................. 236
Table 4.5: Radiocarbon dates from Markaqocha. ....................................................................... 237
Table A.1: Published Radiocarbon Dates from the Ollantaytambo Area ................................... 312
Table A.2: Published Radiocarbon Dates from the Cusco Region ............................................. 313
Table B.1: Formative Period Sites .............................................................................................. 316
Table B.2: Middle Horizon Sites ................................................................................................ 318
Table B.3: Ollanta Phase Sites .................................................................................................... 319
Table B.4: Inka Period Sites ....................................................................................................... 322
Table B.5: Site Names ................................................................................................................ 328
Table B.6: Ollanta Phase Architectural Data .............................................................................. 331
Table B.7: Tomb Sites ................................................................................................................ 335
Table C.1: Ollanta Phase Excavation Contexts .......................................................................... 336
Table C.2: Ollanta Phase Excavation Contexts (Faunal) ............................................................ 339
Table C.3: Inka Period Excavation Contexts .............................................................................. 341
Table C.4: Inka Period Excavation Contexts (Faunal) ............................................................... 344

xvi

INTRODUCTION

This dissertation investigates the processes through which the Inkas established their
political authority throughout the Cusco region (Per), an area that was to become the political
center of the largest indigenous empire in the Americas. Political authority is born of the
widespread recognition of political power. Political regimes seek to secure their claims to
authority by regulating the practices and routines through which people perform their roles as
political subjects. Understanding how Inka regional political authority was constituted therefore
requires an examination of the processes of incorporation through which local people were
divested of political autonomy and redefined as subjects of the Inka state. Current theories hold
that local sociopolitical practices and organizational principles remained largely unaffected by
Inka state development (e.g. Murra 1980[1956]; Ramrez 2005). However, this perspective both
reflects and perpetuates the assumption that political action is exclusive to the larger institutional
sites of an administrative bureaucracy. It does not take into account how the drastic
governmental restructuring of localized relationships between people, place, and polity can
underwrite a political regimes claims to authority. But choosing to view broader political
processes from the local scale raises a different question entirely: namely, how authorities seek
to regulate already-recognized social and political practices in an effort to construct a seemingly
naturalized connection between people and polity. After all, if political authority is not
embedded in and constituted by local routines and thus locally recognizable it no doubt
proves far less authoritative than a political regime might wish.
To better understand how social groups of the Cusco region were incorporated into the
developing state, the dissertation presents survey data from the Ollantaytambo area (Cusco,
1

Per), as well as excavation data from Wata a long-occupied settlement and shrine that was
dramatically reorganized during the process of Inka polity formation. The anthropological
question addressed here asks how political regimes seek to secure their regional authority and
define local people as subjects through the subtle manipulation and transformation of preexisting
political practices and places. More specifically, I examine how changes in specific sociopolitical
practices such as feasting and ancestor veneration were linked to the transformation of local
political centers throughout an era of extraordinary social change the Late Intermediate Period
(ca. 1000- 1400 C.E.). Studies of pre-modern polities rarely address how the daily activities of
people living near an emerging state capital change as they lose autonomy and are incorporated
as subjects. More particularly, while numerous researchers claim that Inka governmental
practices were grounded in previous forms of social organization (e.g. Conrad 1981; DAltroy
1987, 1992, 2002; Julien 1988; Murra 1980[1956], 1984), few archaeological studies have
addressed how the meaning and function of such practices changed as they were incorporated
into an Inka political idiom. By linking local political dynamics with state formation, my
research provides new insights into Inka political economic development and the constitution of
state authority through the manipulation of local cultural practices.
The organizing hypothesis of this research is that, prior to the construction of elaborate
imperial monuments like Machu Picchu and Ollantaytambo, early Inka state formation in the
Cusco area was predicated upon the creation of distinct spaces, statuses and activities at
preexisting political centers. Specifically, I argue that the conversion of select pre-Inka political
centers manifested the ideology of absolute social difference that underwrote Inka claims to
political authority. By examining the production of specific architectural forms in relation to
changes in local institutional practices, I demonstrate how the early Inka polity was born of the
2

articulation between preexisting and new political structures in particular, ritualized political
activities like feasting events.
My fieldwork in Per employed a multi-scalar methodology because, although the
process of polity formation necessarily affects an extensive area, it is only within particular
contexts that people experience and participate in historical processes of political change. At the
macro scale, I directed a systematic archaeological survey (200km2) to document loci of pre-Inka
political practices, and any changes that occurred throughout the Inka period. At the intermediate
scale, I directed intensive architectural analysis and surface collections to gauge how
architectural changes were linked to changes in spatial practices at select pre-Inka sites. At a
micro-scale, I directed extensive excavations at Wata to ascertain how local changes in
architecture and cultural practices underwrote new kinds of political authority.
The first chapter of this dissertation critically discusses archaeological theories of state
formation and governance, specifically their overarching focus on structures of regional political
economic integration. I consider how researchers might examine state formation as a more
localized process of political incorporation through which once-autonomous peoples are
redefined as subjects of a broader political project. I conclude by introducing a methodology for
understanding political incorporation through the intensive analysis of particular practices at
multiple scales.
Chapter Two provides historical entre into an Inka definition of political authority. It
undertakes an intensive analysis of sixteenth century ethnohistorical documents to demonstrate
how, within the waning days of the empire, Inka elites claimed that their authority was
predicated upon their capacity to convert and order pre-Inka peoples into compliant Inka
subjects. This chapter illustrates how an Inka authority was grounded in the transformation of
3

antecedent organizational principles. The Inka practices of political authority that I discuss offer
a provocative example of how political regimes seek to naturalize the confluence of polity,
people, and history.
Chapters Three through Five present archaeological data from the Wata Archaeological
Project (WAP), an integrated survey and excavation research program that I directed from 20052007. Chapter Three presents systematic survey data from the Ollantaytambo area to document
the spatiality of political practices during the centuries immediately prior to Inka ascendancy in
the Cusco region (ca. 1000-1300 C.E.). Chapter Four builds upon these survey data by indicating
how the spatial organization of particular pre-Inka settlements was transformed during the early
Inka period (ca. 1300-1400 C.E.), specifically through the production of exclusive areas for
ceremonial practices, such as feasting. Chapter Five provides a glimpse of how Inka state
formation was realized through the selective transformation and preservation of spaces and
practices within Wata, a pre-Inka town and ceremonial site.
Altogether, the dissertation adds to our knowledge of Inka political development while
contributing to a growing body of anthropological theory that seeks to explain how local
agencies and agendas often facilitate or hinder processes of political consolidation (Brumfiel
1996, 1998, 2005; Morrison 2001; Morrison and Lycett 1994; Schreiber 2005; Stein 2005). The
research investigates how local places are not, in fact, passive backdrops for political processes,
but contested sites, the control of which constitutes the basis of regional state authority (e.g.
Agnew 1987; Giddens 1979; Smith 1996, 2003).

CHAPTER ONE
MAKING THE IMPERIAL HEARTLAND: INKA INCORPORATION OF THE CUSCO
AREA

In 1532, Spanish soldiers first entered the sacred environs of Cusco, the monumental
capital city of the largest indigenous empire in the Americas. 1 The symbolic fount of Inka
political power, Cusco awed these newcomers with its intricately terraced slopes and carefully
managed streets. The soldiers marveled at the cyclopean facades of towering Inka buildings, and
declared the imperial city more than equal to the greatest splendors of their European homeland.
But these soldiers also recognized that the people of Cusco were on the losing side of an ongoing
civil war between rivals to the throne. Fevered for precious metals, they turned anew to Cuscos
royal houses, now seeing in the tranquil, well-ordered luxury of the city an unrivaled opportunity
for plunder. But even as their reverence yielded to rapacity, they no doubt recognized Cuscos
symbolic importance. Indeed, long before their initial approach to the monumental city, they had
been told that Cusco was a sacred site to Inka rulers, a place where gods resided. It was the very
center of the Inka world. And due in part to Spanish chroniclers, this divine mythos would
continue to thrive long after Cuscos wealth had been stripped away.
Although the Inkas lacked a written history, they were keen to tell the Spanish stories
about how Cusco was born, and the Spanish, in turn, were eager to document their tales. Many of
the stories recorded in the decades following the Spanish invasion cast the Cusco region as an
extended family, an integrated but hierarchized social system brought together through alliance,
1

Francisco Pizarro, who directed the Spanish invasion and conquest of the Inkas, ordered two illiterate
soldiers Martin Bueno and Pedro Martin de Moguer to conduct a reconnaissance mission to the Inka
ceremonial capital (P. Pizarro 1965[1571]: 56). Inka elites accompanied these two soldiers. The soldiers did not fear
the Inkas, since Pizarros forces held the Inka ruler captive.

intermarriage, and conquest (see Kolata 1992; Silverblatt 1988). Inkas told the Spanish of how,
in a pivotal moment within mythic time, one of their essential ancestors demonstrated his power
by shaping the land itself, thereby transforming the Cusco region into an ordered and integrated
Inka space. The Inkas solidified this newly wrought order by granting a special familial title to
people living in the Cusco region (see Chapter Two; Betanzos 1987[1551]; Garcilaso de la Vega
1965[1609]: 56-7; Guaman Poma de Ayala 1980[1615]: 66; see also Bauer 2004; Zuidema
1964). The stories emphasize natural connections between local social groups and places within
Cusco, between blood and soil, and relate the Inkas divine duty to incorporate other people and
places into a broader Inka hierarchical system, conceptualized as a kin network comprised of
paternal Inka kings and their subordinates. The stories offer a startlingly uniform vision of
imperial development in which the Inkas, as the cultivators and caretakers of a previously
chaotic world, foster seamless integration throughout a perfectly ordered imperial capital.
But these stories of integration and order also contain indeed, rely upon explicit
histories of the bloody conquest and fiery erasure of other groups within the Cusco region. In
particular, Inkas elites often bragged to the Spanish of how they destroyed the villages of anyone
who declared themselves equal to the Inkas, or challenged their claim to absolute authority:
There was (a) ruler named Illacumbi from two towns located four leagues from
Cuzco, one called Cugma and the other Guata (Wata). Inka Yupanqui and Inka
Roca sent word to this ruler, telling him to give them obedience. Illacumbi
responded that he was a high elite like them and free, and if they wanted, that they
would have to get rid of them with their lances. Due to this response, they took up
arms against this ruler. Illacumbi and two other local rulers, named Paucar Topa
and Poma Lloqui, gathered their people together and went to fight the Inka, but
they were conquered and killed along with almost all of the their town. And this
place suffered fire and blood and many cruelties. And from there, the Inka turned
to Cusco and triumphed in his victory (Sarmiento 1965[1572]: Ch. 35; my
translation). 2
2

Era otro cinche llamado Illacumbi, cinche de dos pueblos, el uno nombrado Cugma y el otro Guata, cuatro

In myriad similar accounts, the Inkas tell of how they forcibly transformed the politically
fragmented Cusco region into a unified polity (see Chapter Two; Levillier 1940; Sarmiento
1965[1572]). This process of transformation entailed countervailing processes of cultural
interconnection and social rupture. In these stories, then, a synchronic picture of integration is
coupled with a rendering of violent processes of conversion and subjectivization.
The mythos of the Inka Empire casts the violence of incorporation as the necessity of
state formation. But it is precisely during this process of incorporation that the Cusco region and
its people became Inka essential parts of an Inka order. That is, Inka authority was first
manifested in these processes of conversion. How then do we look beyond the mythos of
absolute Inka dominance and examine the contradictory processes that made this dominance
manifest? Indeed, perhaps it is in the very fixation of imperial narratives on the disorder and
chaos that Inka governance cured, we can see the origins of the state, the dynamic social
history that underwrote the rise of Inka imperial power, and the naturalizing processes that
contributed to an imperial image of a unified Inka heartland centered on Cusco. Moreover, the
frequency and uniformity with which Spaniard and Inka narrated this pre-history suggest that the
mythos of Cusco proved enduringly gripping because it touched on a myth larger than Cusco:
that of the State itself. For all states are constituted by a basic contradiction. They are
structures of integration made possible by the violence of subjectivization and the production of
absolute social difference (see also Alonso 1994; Arextaga 2003; Nagengast 1994). To
understand the production of a state, then, is to examine how this contradiction is elided, and
leguas del Cuzco. A este cinche enviaron a decir Inga Yupangui e Inga Roca que les viniese a dar obediencia, y
respondioles que el era tan principal como ellos y libre, y que si algo querian, que lo habian de librar por las lanzas.
Por esta respuesta tomaron las armas contra el dicho cinche. El cual y otros dos cinches sus companeros, llamados el
uno Paucar Topa y el otro Poma Lloqui, juntaron sus gentes y salieron a pelear con el Inga, mas fueron vencidos y
muertos ellos y cuasi todos los del pueblo. Y asolo aquella poblacion toda a fuego y a sangre con muy grandes
crueldades. Y de alli se torno al Cuzco y triunfo de esta victoria (Sarmiento 1965[1572]: Ch. 35).

moreover, how it is shrouded in myths that proclaim the states necessity. In other words, to
understand the genesis of the state we must understand the processes whereby local people come
to recognize the authority of the state, and to recognize themselves as subjects to state authority.

Archaeological Accounts of State Integration

The process of state formation has long been a subject of scrutiny and debate among
anthropological archaeologists. In attending to consolidation of ancient polities and archaic
states, archaeologists often focus on mechanisms of social control that allow for political
economic integration throughout a discrete region. For instance, archaeological definitions of the
state often pivot upon the empirical identification of certain criteria such as radical vertical
differentiation, a centralized yet internally differentiated governmental apparatus, and/or a
hierarchy of administrative roles (e.g. Adams 1966; Feinman and Marcus 1998). The regional
integration and administrative management of a political territory is essential to this definition.
Archaeological studies consequently frame archaic states as centralized managerial
solutions to social and ecological problems (e.g. Covey 2006; Johnson and Earle 1987; Sanders
and Price 1968; also Service 1962; 1975; Steward 1955; White 1959; Wittfogel 1955, 1957).
These accounts, which are rooted in an interpretation of Weberian 3 (1968[1921]) notions of
centralized management, often seek to delineate the mechanisms through which regional
integration is ensured and secured. They presume the geography of the state to be isomorphic
with an array of hierarchical institutions. In so doing, such accounts identify and examine
managerial apparatuses such as a multi-level administrative network (Claessen 1984; Claessen

The Weberian definition of the state, as an apparatus holding a monopoly on physical force, is often
misrepresented as a universal definition. In contrast, Weber clearly intended his famous definition to refer to the
bureaucratic organization of the modern, post-Westphalian European/occidental state (see Weber 1968[1921]: 902).

and Skalnk 1978; Wright and Johnson 1975), a monopoly over military power (Claesson 1984),
or the development and maintenance of key resources and usufruct rights (e.g. Billman 1999,
2002; Schaedel 1987; Wittfogel 1957). No matter whether these solutions are achieved through
consensus (Service 1975) or conflict (Fried 1967), what is rendered is a sharply political
economic picture that conceptualizes the state as a rational plan an abstract managerial and
administrative web spread over a discrete territory. 4 Such models do not investigate the
constitution of political authority. Rather, they assume that authority is derived from bureaucracy
itself, which mediates between rulers and ruled, state and society (see Topic 2003).
In these models, empirical variables like monuments and institutional structures are taken
to be key archaeological correlates of managerial schema, and are interpreted as expressions of
political authority. Indeed, monumental architecture has long been a chief concern of
anthropological archaeologists studying the political economic integration of ancient states
(Adams 1956, 1966; Childe 1950, 1956; Sjoberg 1960; Steward 1955; Wittfogel 1955, 1957). In
archaeological research, the dissemination of certain architectural styles is typically assumed to
materialize or index governmental authority, as well as claims to territoriality and political
sovereignty (e.g. Ashmore 1986; Ashmore and Sabloff 2002; DeMarrais et al. 1996). In addition
to monuments, anthropological archaeologists have long focused on how polity formation
involves the emergence of new regulatory institutions through which political power is expressed
(e.g. Claessen 1979, 1981; Hodge 1984; Marcus 2008; Marcus and Feinman 1998: 4-5; Wenke
1980; Wright 1977). The centralized regulation of socioeconomic practices such as
socioeconomic production activities has been interpreted as an essential governmental strategy
4

Archaeologists often cite the Manns (1985; also 1977, 1986) universalized definition of the state as a
central place and a unified territorial reach (see Earle 2002; Haas 2001). Such a definition underlies the focus on
political centralization and political territory, and consequently, a managerial and bureaucratic theoretical definition
of the state.

of regional state integration (Brumfiel and Earle, eds. 1987; Clark 1995; Clark and Parry 1990;
Costin 1991; Costin and Hagstrum 1995; Earle 1997; Sinopoli 2003; Webster 1990). Such
theories hold that governmental authorities often integrate large regions by coordinating,
overseeing and regulating socioeconomic production, thereby requiring specific settlements to
produce only a limited number of specialized goods (Berdan 1989). Moreover, a region is
socially integrated through the exchange, circulation, and redistribution of economic goods.
Thus, in this perspective, settlements are sociologically linked through the division of labor and a
system of redistribution, which, like monuments, are taken to be the expression of a unifying
ideology. The state is therefore reduced to a synchronic structure of political economic
integration. But, such monuments and their attendant institutions are the outcomes of claims of
authority made by ruling elites, and thus are only one side of a trajectory of state formation. 5
In applying these political economic and managerial models of the state, archaeologists
organize their research at a regional scale. Using site-size as a proxy for population size and
sociopolitical function, archaeologists often presume that state-level bureaucratic control of
landscape is made possible through the establishment of at least four levels of administrative
decision-making (see Covey 2006a; Flannery 1972, 1998; Flannery and Marcus 1983; Marcus
2008; Spencer 1993, 1997; Spencer and Redmond 2004; Wright and Johnson 1975). Put
schematically, this approach interprets patterned and hierarchical settlement sizes as evidence for
the functional integration of socioeconomic activities and nested administrative decision-making,
and by implication, the centralized management of political economy (Flannery and Marcus

In this light, even though it is widely recognized that the construction of monumental spaces requires a
drastic transformation in labor organization, monuments often become the causal explanation for such
socioeconomic reorganization and political complexity, instead of being viewed as the product of long-term
governmental processes that seek to establish and maintain state authority and sovereignty through the control of
subjects routines and practices.

10

1983; Marcus and Flannery 1996; Paynter 1983; Johnson 1977; Johnson and Earle 1987; Wright
1977). A centrally coordinated system corresponds to a tiered array of sites, defined by inter-site
differences in size, function, and architectural complexity. This arrangement of sites is assumed
to correspond to cascading levels of command: higher-level bureaucrats direct the decisions of
intermediate administrators, who, in turn, direct socioeconomic practices of producers. The
approach thus combines a Weberian notion of bureaucracy with a Durkheimian (1997[1933])
theory that a rationally managed regional society is necessarily defined by an integrated system
of coordinated labor and organic solidarity. In short, such models imply that the integration
and management of political economy is the basis of both regional political authority and a
collective political consciousness. 6
This emphasis on regional integration means that the dynamic and local processes of
incorporation remain largely unexamined. Shifts in political regimes often entail changes in how
local people recognize authority, as well as changes in the social practices through which rulers
stake claims to authority. These local changes, which are crucial to understanding the political
processes of the ancient world, are too often obscured by interpretations that rest on an abstract
and regional vision of political economy. In particular, studies of Inka governance have largely
focused on the management of territory, thereby providing only the faintest sketch of how social
actors both constituted and recognized political authority within specific places.

Theories of Inka Governance

Archaeological and ethnohistorical research into Inka imperial governance has long been
6

By implication, such models typically explain the collapse of a polity through reference to a breakdown
in the chain of administration and management. That is, ideological reasons for societal upheaval and conflict are
epiphenomenal, or the result of underlying conditions.

11

based in regional political economic and managerial models of archaic states. Indeed,
ethnohistorical research on Inka economic organization (Moore 1958; Murra 1980[1956])
asserted that the Inka political economy was at the minimal level largely based on the labor
output and tribute of local populations (see also DAltroy and Earle 1985; Wachtel 1973). The
longstanding influence of such political economic interpretations of Inka governance has
produced scholarship that concentrates on the management of population and the development of
centralized control mechanisms. Consequently, perspectives on political economy often serve as
a foundation for understanding the Inka state and its imperial pretensions.
It is often assumed that Inka principles of authority were rooted within their
administrative practices, which themselves were derived from preexisting autochthonous forms
of social organization (see discussion of tradition below; DAltroy 2002; Farrington 1992;
Kolata 1992, 1996; Murra 1980; Rostworowski 1977, 1978, 1983, 1988; Zuidema 1982, 1990).
Indeed, the Inkas are said to have extracted a hefty tribute from local populationsa mandatory
labor tax (mita). Scholars propose that even as these labor demands transformed the contours of
political economy, local authoritative systems remained unchanged. 7 That is, they show that
local authoritative structures were maintained even as new forms of labor coordination were
introduced.
The production of such an appearance of continuity is, in itself, important political work.
Yet we still know very little about how local practices of authority were incorporated into the
Inka system of governance when such labor taxes were implemented. In the vast scholarly
literature on the rise of the Inka Empire, we have no adequate account for the specific practices
7

Providing a foundation for much Inka research, Murra (1984: 79) contends, the diagnostic, all-important,
Andean trait characterizing these [Inka] standards was that the larder of the peasant remained untouched. Here,
Murras contention illustrates how research into resource control and exploitation has largely eclipsed inquiry into
whether and how the implementation of Inka governance was made possible by a shift in principles of authority.

12

through which local formerly-autonomous people were coerced or convinced to labor for this
state. Researchers rarely consider how the Inkas converted local practices and places into nodes
of state administration.
In attending to Inka mechanisms of social control, archaeological research in the imperial
provinces has largely focused on how new economic institutions of redistribution and labor
management were essential to Inka political expansion (e.g. DAltroy and Earle 1985; Isbell
1978; Morris 1982, 1985, 1992; Morris and Thompson 1985; Murra 1972; Schaedel 1978;
Stanish 2001). Specifically, researchers have revealed that the Inkas expressed their power and
subjugated local populations through the dramatic reorganization of settlement systems, thus
allowing for both the intensification and coordination of agricultural and pastoral production (see
Chapter Four; Alconini 2004, 2008; DAltroy 2002; DAltroy and Hastorf 2001; Patterson
1985a). To legitimate their project of expansion and appropriation, the Inkas often manipulated
widely recognized mechanisms of reciprocity and redistribution, thereby masking imperial
domination and exploitation with theatrical feasts, which were displays of state-sponsored power
and largesse (Godelier 1977; Kolata 1992; Murra 1980; Ramrez 2005). The immense storage
facilities and extensive monumental plazas that characterize Inka administrative installations are
salient architectural expressions of this Inka program of institutionalized reciprocity and
redistribution. The Inkas coopted preexisting social practices of reciprocal exchange in order to
integrate and administer a growing imperial political economy, largely by managing and
controlling the cultural diversity and institutional heterogeneity throughout the territorial
extension of their empire (Morris 1985: 481).
This political economic model under discussion assumes that, during the Inka period,
authority was derived directly from this state bureaucratic apparatus, and thus delegated from
13

above. In this model, the major innovation of Inka governance appears to have been a shift from
decentralized to centralized rule (Godelier 1977) a shift masked through the apparent
continuance of local sociocultural norms, practices, and authoritative structures (Patterson
1985b). Several scholars have noted that the majority of Andean prehistory and history, past and
present, has involved the decentralized, kin-based, local management of resources like water
supply and distribution (Guillet 1987; Mitchell 1976; D. Julien 1993; Netherly 1984). The Inka
state attempted to preserve such local social organization when possible, often making the local
elites into administrative intermediaries between Cusco-based rulers and local populations within
a state system of bureaucratic control (Covey 2006a, 2006b; DAltroy 1989; DAltroy and Earle
1985; DAltroy and Hastorf 2001; Patterson 1985b; Stanish 2000). A dual role was created for
local, intermediate elites: they were at once responsible for imperial demands as well as those of
their people (Covey 2006b; Stanish 2000). Prestigious gifts were given to these local lords in
order to diacritically separate them from their community to such a degree that they would
display allegiance to the Inka authorities in Cusco, while still maintaining a local role of
management and organization (DAltroy 1989; Murra 1986, 1995). But, in this sense, like in the
general managerial model, Inka authority is said to have been derived directly from the
administrative apparatus itself.
Similarly, Inka state formation is often conceptualized as a top-down centrifugal process
in which the authority and ideology of a dominant elite in the city of Cusco was forcefully
asserted in previously fragmented outlying regions (e.g. Bauer 2004; DAltroy 2002; Espinoza
Soriano1978). Early theories of Inka state formation advocated a literal interpretation of Inka
statements contained within sixteenth century Spanish Colonial documents, thus attributing the
formation of the Inka state to the heroic and often suprahuman deeds of a single Inka lord
14

Pachakuteq Inka Yupanki (see Rowe 1944, 1946, 1985; Brundage 1963; Julien 2000; Niles 1987,
1999). After vanquishing a longstanding foe, this Inka lord is said to have instituted state power
within the Cusco region, thus establishing a clear royal hierarchy while directing the construction
of monumental edifices. Although premised on a spurious event-based history (see critique in
Bauer 1992, 2004), this interpretation of Inka political development holds that state authority
was derived from the management of territory that is, the Inka state was created when a
culture hero devised and implemented a master administrative plan.
Recent archaeological research in the Cusco region has challenged this event-based
hypothesis, demonstrating that Inka political integration was a much more protracted process.
However, interpretations of Inka state formation are still largely based in a managerial model of
territorial control (in contrast, see McEwan 2006; McEwan et al. 2008). Systematic
archaeological surveys have shown how, during the Andean Late Intermediate or Killke Period
(LIP; ca. 1000 1400 C.E.), the Inkas integrated politically once-autonomous and
geographically dispersed Cusco region social groups into a consolidated polity (Bauer 2004;
Bauer and Covey 2002; Covey 2006a). These initial processes of Inka political consolidation
have been interpreted as steps toward the establishment of an Inka heartland that is, a
geopolitically and ideologically central region (Bauer 1992, 2004; Covey 2006a; Farrington
1992; Niles 1993). Monumental constructions followed processes of integration; the monuments
commemorated the history of recent conquests within this region (Niles 1993). Research has
delineated the contours of a tiered organizational hierarchy and Inka development of agricultural
resources throughout this region (Bauer 1992, 2004; Bauer and Covey 2002; Covey 2006a). But,
in keeping with a broad political economic perspective, researchers note that early Inka state
formation coincided with a process of agricultural intensification that yielded the socioeconomic
15

and political resources necessary for Inka imperial expansion into neighboring areas (Covey
2006a). Although such research provides a much-needed rendering of political economic
structure, it cannot capture the locally and historically variable processes of subjectivization
through which once-autonomous people were incorporated into the Inka state.
In sum, the political economic focus of much Inka research concentrates on how state
power is spread over territory. This emphasis on political territoriality is best expressed in the use
of the term heartland to describe the area over which the Inkas first declared sovereignty (e.g.
Bauer 2004). Often employed metaphorically within archaeological interpretations (e.g. Adams
1981; Bermann 1997; Falconer and Savage 1995; Killion 1990; Lau 2002; Scarborough 1998;
Willey 1991), the term heartland simultaneously evokes images of an economic resource base,
a hub of sociocultural activity, and a centralized political organ. Archaeological accounts of
heartlands and provinces are based in the assumption that such areas correspond to discrete
territorial units political bodies similar to post-Westphalian European nation states. 8 The term
heartland thus posits a naturalized link between people and polity, while the term province
proposes a geographical unit of political administration. Both terms, however, reduce governance
to a managerial network operating over a discrete territory, and presume political authority to be
a function of territorial management.

Social theorists have long applied strikingly similar concepts describing the connection between culture,
politics, and territory. For instance, the naturalized link between geography and an essentialized culture has long
been a prevalent theme in European political discourse, including the theoretical proclamations of Herder, Fichte,
Heidegger and Montesquieu. In political geography, the term heartland applied to the strategic advantage afforded
by an extensive territory, thus likening political control to military advantage (e.g. MacKinder).

16

Critique: From Integration to Incorporation

This managerial model reveals the structure of political economy and the expression of
power within ancient polities, but provides only an outline of the practices that constitute
authority. For one, these theories conflate state with governance, and the constitution of authority
with the application of power. A government acts through recognizable institutions situated
within the landscape, while the state has no definable position (Smith 2003). The state is thus an
idea representing the unification of a territory, whereas government is a system of regulated
bureaucratic control that underpins and provides for political economic integration through the
administration of socioeconomic activities (Abrams 1977; Foucault 1979a, 1979b). To study an
abstract bureaucracy is only to inquire into the operation of governance, which corresponds to
the application of power.
On the other hand, a state can be conceptualized as an idea or representation (sensu
Abrams 1977; Anderson 1983) that emerges through the mutual participation of subjects in a
common political, economic, and social framework, and is subsequently materialized through the
development of representations of spaceor a formal landscape aesthetic, including
architectural and object design styles (see also Abrams 1977; Corrigan and Sayer 1985; Eagleton
1991; Radcliffe-Brown 1995[1940]; Smith 2003). The state is often something that is stated. It
is a position or a claim to authority. Claims to authority are dependent upon the production of
compliant subjects. A state is not simply the sum of groups that were forcefully incorporated by
a dominant power, nor is it akin to a spatial hierarchy of administration (e.g. Wright and Johnson
1975). It is linked to the constitution of authority, rather than the expression of territorial power.
This raises the second critique of the managerial model, which is rooted in the regional
perspective of these studies. In attending to political transformations, archaeologists often define
17

their field of inquiry at the regional scale, consequently taking settlement distribution to reflect a
web of governmental and/or administrative tiers (e.g. Algaze 1993; Balkansky 1998). But,
although such regional accounts provide for a macro-scale rendering of political structure, they
also imply that both state governance and authority are predicated upon the centralized
management of a regional political economy rather than the dynamic processes of incorporation
through which local people are defined as political subjects (Adams 2000; Blanton 1998; Smith
2003). What is required, then, is a shift from looking at the institutional framework as an
integrative structure to questions regarding how institutionalized authorities are constituted as
such.
In social theory, there has been a recent move away from viewpoint of the state as a
Weberian bureaucratic apparatus. Theorists instead foreground the processes of contestation
through which people are redefined as political subjects (Corrigan and Sayer 1985; Gordillo
2002, 2004; Montoya 2007). This perspective, which is rooted in the sociopolitical theories of
Gramsci (1971) and Foucault (1979b, 1980, 2003), concentrates on how political regimes seek to
regulate social practices, and thereby attempt to establish conditions of hegemony. Although
definitions vary, hegemony is perhaps best conceptualized as a contested process during which a
dominant class or aspiring political regime seeks to implement and instantiate particular projects
for the re-organization or ideal organization of the world (Laclau and Mouffe 1985). Throughout
this process, different parties often struggle over the definition of the symbols, practices, objects
and places that both govern and organize everyday experience. In short, if the state is grounded
in such an ongoing project of subjectivization, then the state cannot be reducible to a static
administrative structure. And, by implication, political authority cannot simply be a given

18

attribute of a state managerial apparatus. Rather, the state is a continual project and process
through which political regimes seek to both constitute and secure their authority. 9
Accordingly, archaeologists have shifted their analytical focus from the broad contours of
political economy to a consideration of how the authority necessary for regional governance is
constituted through the control and routinization of political practices within specific locales
(Alcock 1993, 2002; Kus and Raharijoana 2000; Salomon 1985). At the local scale, political
regimes often seek to manipulate the meaning of recognized and/or traditional political
practices in an effort to secure their political authority, contribute to a reified image of a state,
and incorporate local people as subjects (Baines and Yoffee 1998, 2000; Smith 2003). In other
words, to understand how authority is established entails an inquiry into how political regimes
seek to produce subjects by defining both everyday activities and traditional political practices.

Inka Authority and Andean Tradition

Several researchers note how both the ideological and material production of an Inka
landscape were essential components of their imperial strategy (e.g. Acuto 2005; Bauer 1998;
Bauer and Orosco 1998; Gifford and Acuto 2002; Gose 1996; McEwan and Van de Guchte
1992). However, researchers also often propose that the Inkas claimed their authority to be a
continuation of Andean cultural traditions, and that they did so in order to mask the exploitative
nature of their political economic system (see Patterson 1985). To this end, anthropologists have
documented how local cultural practices were integrated into an Inka governmental and
economic structure (W. Isbell 1978; Murra 1973, 1980[1956]). Platt (1978), for instance,
9

Here, I do not intend to reduce the state to a kind of methodological individualism or individualistic
theoryi.e. something that is stated only at a certain point in time, or a collective body that is only constituted
only when individuals choose to forward an ad hoc political project (see Buchanan and Tullock 1962; for review,
see Udehn 2001). In contrast, my point is to focus on the state as an ongoing project that is never fully realized.

19

develops a theory of how the Inkas transformed a traditional system of Andean duality and
reciprocity into one defined by hierarchical oppositions, in which one half of the duality is
always seen as superior to the other (see Schaedel 1988: 770). Numerous other researchers claim
that Inka political and economic dominance was made possible in both the heartland and
provinces through the manipulation or cooptation of enduring Andean concepts of authority,
religion and reciprocity (e.g. Conrad 1981; MacCormack 1993).
However, when elucidating concepts specific to the Andean region, anthropological
accounts often collapse data from the ethnographic present into the archaeological past a
move that assumes Andean daily life, belief systems, and organizational principles have
remained largely unchanged over a period of five hundred years or more (Allen 2002; B.J. Isbell
1978; cf. Starn 1991). Many accounts refer to how the Inkas both co-opted and capitalized on
prior pan-Andean traditions, emphasizing continuity between past and present structures of
authority while recasting Andean culture in a formal Inka frame (e.g. Acuto 2005; Conrad 1981;
Gose 2000; Lumbreras 1978; Ramrez 2005; Zuidema 1970). In this, the prevailing view, the
ceremonial and socioeconomic activities of local communities remained relatively unchanged
following their incorporation into the expanding state (Murra 1980[1956]; Rowe 1982; Schaedel
1978; cf. Van Buren 1996).
Assumptions of continuity shape these narratives of early Inka state development. For
example, feasting has long been theorized as an essential performative medium through which
Inka authorities expressed an ideology of state-sponsored generosity and largesse vis vis local
subject communities (e.g. Coben 2006; Godelier 1977; Kolata 1992; Ramrez 2005). Accounts of
Inka institutional labor management describe how state representatives would mobilize local
work forces by sponsoring lavish feasting events including special kinds of food and drink (Bray
20

2003; Cummins 2002; DAltroy and Hastorf 2001; Kolata 1992; Morris 1993; Ogburn 2005;
Ramrez 2005). The food and drink offered at Inka feasting events always included maize,
thereby signifying the heightened political and symbolic importance of the particular agricultural
products cultivated within local communities (Hastorf and Johannesen 1993; Jennings 2004;
Morris 1979; Murra 1973, 1982). As researchers have cogently argued, the Inka state both
consolidated and represented its power through these feasting events, wherein Inka authorities
would invert social roles by feting their people and engaging in the supposedly feminine
activity of feeding dependent subjects (Gose 2000). Yet studies of these events, while invaluable
to our understanding of Inka imperial ceremonies, seldom address whether and how these local
and community-oriented feasting practices and the traditional system of reciprocity and labor
organization that they manifested were converted into the instruments of Inka rule.
It is crucial to inquire into how political practices like feasting hold different meanings
within different time periods or placesand, indeed, how social actors may orchestrate different
kinds of political practices to make different kinds of political claims. Research in the provinces
of the Inka Empire has begun to address this issue by demonstrating how maize and meat
consumption were altered throughout the Inka conquest (Costin and Earle 1989; Hastorf 2001).
However, until now, such studies had not been conducted in the Cusco heartland, where the
initial negotiations between local and state, and between past (pre-Inka) and present (Inka)
political authorities and structures, were played out at intermediary sites such as Wata.
In sum, accounts that assume continuity in Andean sociopolitical principles leave us with
a very faint rendering of Inka institutional changes or innovations. They define traditional
Andean authority relative to essential Andean cultural categories, and then assume these

21

categories to be unitary and transcendental. But how, then, did the Inkas clothe their empire in
Andean tradition while simultaneously materializing their claim to absolute social difference?
Instead of solely defining authority as a product of political economic management or an
element of deeply embedded cultural tradition, it is helpful to examine the constitution of
authority as a situated process of categorization through which people, places, and things are
defined, objectified, and redefined. That is, authority is not just a function of a structural
relationship between rulers and ruled; it is manifested in the very practices through which this
relationship itself is constituted.
Some researchers have presented a more nuanced view of Inka strategies of
incorporation, noting how the Inkas employed a hegemonic strategy in the imperial provinces
(DAltroy 2002; DAltroy and Hastorf 2001), whereby the appearance of autochthonous and
local institutional structures was preserved even as the products of local labor were appropriated
(Morris 1985: 480). These perspectives raise questions of whether and how the appearance of
continuity was key to Inka political consolidation and to an Inka claim to absolute social
difference. Perhaps the message has been mistaken for the medium: that is, changes did occur
that were then obfuscated by the Inka in an attempt to preserve an appearance of continuity in
certain places. Certainly it is clear that, instead of assuming continuity of traditions or the
complete imposition of Inka governance over local people and their interests, we must
investigate the dynamic process of articulation between pre-Inka and Inka political practices (see
also Wernke 2006a, 2006b). Only then can we understand the social transformations through
which Inka authority was built.

22

Re-envisioning Inka State Formation: Putting Political Authority in Place

In recent years, anthropologists have theorized that links between political authority and
state traditions are often tenuous and therefore are largely dependent on the symbols and
practices through which authority is constituted and tradition is reinvented (e.g. Anderson 1983;
Arextaga 2003; Cohn 1992; Hobsbawm and Ranger 1992). I build upon these theories by calling
attention to how these constitutive practices are materially located. They are enacted within key
placesnamely, the sites of articulation between the interests of local people and the interests of
a ruling regime (e.g. Gordillo 2004). Thus, to understand the practices that constitute authority,
we must move beyond regional research on political economy or assumptions of enduring
cultural tradition and inquire into the specific sites of contestation where the work of
subjectivization takes place.
Here, we may do well to recall a classic anthropological example of practices that
constitute political authority: the potlatch. In the ceremonial feasting of colonial-era potlatch,
certain things (like blankets and copper) were destroyed while other objects (like cloth goods,
kitchen utensils and serving trays) were given away (Boas 1916: 538-543, 1966). In this
histrionic performance of destruction and benevolence, political authority was validated and
subject positions were objectified (Godelier 1999; Rosman and Rubel 1972; Tollefson 1995).
The social value that was attributed to some European goods raised the stakes of the potlatch,
redefining subject positions among community members while simultaneously transforming the
very practices through which claims to authority were staked (Barnett 1938; Marshall and Maas
1997; Wolf 1999).
But the potlatch did not simply reproduce a static cultural framework or ontological
structure. This ritual was always enacted through a situated set of practices. The things that were
23

destroyed changed through time, as did the settings of their destruction. The potlatch
performances themselves changed relative to shifting political relationships; they were framed by
a structure of conjuncture influenced by interaction with the Europeans (Sahlins 1985: 125;
Wolf 1999). However, what remained important across all contexts was the performance the
situated contextsin which these things were destroyed and acts of destruction were converted
into claims to authority. Social categories and positions were both claimed and constituted in
these specific historical moments of interaction and transaction. This example, then, speaks less
to a culturally embedded structure of social authority or status than it does to the situated
practices that stake political claims to authority by defining and/or redefining essential social
status categories.
Such political claims are, sometimes unintentionally but often by necessity, staked within
particular places. Whether it is the validation of status within a colonial-era Kwakiutl potlatch,
the 1972 occupation of Wounded Knee by political activists, or the disassembly of the Berlin
Wall, the emplacement of such claims matters to both the claimants and their audience.
Oftentimes, it matters so much that places become objectified and thereby converted into
essential elements of the claims themselves. We might think of how the storming of the Bastille
has come to stand in for the French Revolution itself. Thus it is through a consideration of
actual, material places of social transformations that we may reconsider how we think about
authority as a process of objectification and redefinition. After all, it is in particular places that
people experience social change and recognize their subjective positions relative to such
changes.
To understand the social transformations through which Inka authority was constituted,
then, is to inquire into how Inka claims to political dominance were first staked. Authority is not
24

based in the brute force or coercion implied by the Inka narratives. Nor does it emanate from
administrative bureaucracy or an embedded sense of tradition (see also Smith 2003). Authority
requires the recognition of social positions. It is based in specific situated practices through
which subjects both perform and become aware of their subordinate roles. In these practices,
subjects both recognize and reify a rulers claim to power. Specifically, then, in attending to the
constitution of authority, we must examine how state claims to authoritative rule are both
manifested and naturalized among preexisting populations, in particular places and practices.
This project investigates the dynamic process of articulation between pre-Inka and Inka
authorities throughout the Ollantaytambo area, a region situated near the Inka capital of Cusco.
My research analyzes macro-scale data in tandem with a thorough examination of changes in
political practices at Wata, a site that was spatially and politically situated between the Inka
capital and a local population. I argue that the absolute social differences that buttressed Inka
authority were first produced in the Inka period conversion of significant local places like Wata.
Furthermore, I demonstrate how local people participated in this process of conversion and
thereby recast themselves as political subjects of the Inka. By providing a view of how Inka
authority was manifested through the conversion of local political places, the research adds
crucial data to the aforementioned theories of Inka political economy. Moreover, it raises a
challenge to models of Andean continuity. I examine possible changes in the meaning and
sociological function of Andean cultural practices and political spaces as they were incorporated
into an Inka idiom of power.Indeed, I contend that the Inka state was not simply rooted in a
natural or traditional Andean world, but rather that its raison dtre was to change
specifically, to cultivate and transformwhat was perceived to be a disordered world. As we

25

will see, this program had both social and spatial implications: for the Inkas, to transform space
was, quite literally, to put people in their place.

Previous Research in the Cusco Region

Modern archaeological research in the Cusco area began with the establishment of the
regional ceramic chronology (Pardo 1938). Rowes (1944:60-62) Cusco area excavations
characterized differences in pre-Inka and Inka pottery, noting that during the LIP a local ceramic
type (Killke) preceded the classic Inka style of pottery. Subsequently, Rivera Dorado (1971a,
1971b, 1972, 1973), Dwyer (1971), Gonzales Corrales (1984), and Lunt (1984, 1987) further
delineated the distribution of contemporaneous styles related to the Killke type. Bauer (1992,
1999, 2002, 2004; Bauer and Stanish 1990) then refined the Cusco chronology by providing
additional information pertaining to the regional distribution of Killke pottery. By linking
changes in both ceramic types and forms with changes in the politics of feasting and
consumption, this project moves beyond such ceramic typologies and identifies material
indicators of institutional changes that occurred during Inka state formation, including the advent
of special symbolic pottery, or culinary equipment (Bray 2003), in feasting events.
Recent systematic surveys and reconnaissance projects in the Cusco area have
documented how, during the Inka Period, pre-Inka sites were often abandoned or reoccupied
while domestic settlements and monumental estates were established in previously unoccupied
lands located near valley floor maize production areas (Bauer 1992, 1998, 2004; Covey 2006a;
Dean 2005; Heffernan 1989, 1996; Kendall 1984, 1986, 1988). Localized pre-Inka settlement
patterns have been described as reflecting differences in political authority, as well as
sociopolitical relationships between the Inkas and Cusco area ethnic groups (Bauer 2004; Covey
26

2006a). The analysis of survey data from the Ollantaytambo area and excavated materials from
Wata allows for a multi-scalar study of how regional settlement patterns articulate with
localized intra-site data.
Architectural analyses and excavations in the Cusco area have largely concentrated on
monumental Inka complexes and elite spaces (Alcina Franch et al. 1976; Bengsston 1998;
Burger and Salazar, eds. 2004; Dwyer 1971; Farrington and Zapata 2003; Gibaja Oviedo 1982,
1984; Nair 2003; Niles 1988, 1999; Paredes 2005; Protzen 1991, 2000; Valcrcel 1934, 1935;
Valencia Zegarra and Gibaja Oviedo 1992). Yet, only a few transitional LIP-Inka settlements
have been systematically excavated in the Cusco area (LIP excavations include: Covey 2006a;
Dean 2005; Dwyer 1971; Kendall 1984, 1988, 1996). Long-term excavations have been limited
to Chokepukio (McEwan 2006; McEwan et al. 1995, 2002), an important site within the Cusco
Valley with a very different form of spatial organization, location, and material cultural style
than the hilltop settlements of the northern Cusco area, of which Wata is a prime example. Thus,
an analysis focusing on Wata is a crucial and timely step toward the development of an
integrated Cusco area database pertaining to similarities and differences in LIP-Inka intra-site
occupational histories, social transformations, and practices.

Empirical Setting: The Survey Region

The Wata Archaeological Project (WAP) systematic survey was designed to examine
diachronic changes in the settlement patterns, land-use, and sociopolitical organization of Cusco
area social groups throughout Late Intermediate Period (ca. 1000-1400 C.E.) and Inka Period
(ca. 1400-1532 C.E.) occupations. Situated approximately 30km from the Inka capital at Cusco,
the survey area is delineated by the confluence of three deep river valleys the Vilcanota valley,
27

the Huarocondo canyon, and the Patachancha valley (Figure 1.1). The north-south axis of the
survey area is situated between the contemporary towns of Huarocondo and Huilloq, while the
east-west axis runs along the Vilcanota River from the town of Yanawara to the Silque valley
(Figure 1.2). The survey is centered on the Inka imperial city of Ollantaytambo. Due to the
historical significance of this city, I refer to the survey area as the Ollantaytambo area. 10
The ruins of Ollantaytambo are a striking reminder of Inka power within this area. This
monumental Inka city was most likely an Inka royal estate (Protzen 1991). This city was also the
site of a pivotal battle between the retreating Inkas and the invading Spaniards (e.g. Hemming
1970; Protzen 1991). Multiple radiocarbon assays indicate that Ollantaytambo was constructed
within the Inka imperial period (ca. 1400 1532 C.E.) (Appendix A; Bengtsson 1998; Hollowell
1987; Kendall 1985). Ollantaytambo has been the subject of numerous studies, including
intensive architectural analysis (Bengsston 1988; Hollowell 1987; Protzen 1985, 1986, 1991;
Angles Vargas 1979), and limited-scale excavation projects (Gibaja Oviedo 1982). The WAP
survey complemented such research by examining the initial process through which the
Ollantaytambo area was incorporated into the Inka polity, prior to the construction of
monumental centers like Ollantaytambo and Machu Picchu.
Prior to the WAP, numerous archaeological and archival projects had been conducted
within the Ollantaytambo area and its immediate environs. Archaeological reconnaissance and
systematic excavations were undertaken within the Cusichaca area, situated within the Vilcanota
Valley, downriver from Ollantaytambo (Kendall 1984, 1986, 1996; Lunt 1987). Similarly, a
reconnaissance project was directed within the nearby Limatambo area (Heffernan 1989, 1996).

10

The Vilcanota valley and its immediate environs contain several palatial Inka estates, thus influencing its
current moniker: The Sacred Valley of the Inkas.

28

Data from these projects have suggested that Inka state formation coincided with drastic changes
in settlement patterns. The WAP built upon these findings, seeking to contextualize the social,
political, and occupational history of the Ollantaytambo area within a regional perspective.
Also, documentary evidence verifies the significance of the Ollantaytambo area to the
Inka regime. Numerous Spanish chroniclers and litigation documents describe how important
pre-Inka social groups inhabited the Ollantaytambo area, particularly the Quilliscache and the
Tampu. These social groups were incorporated into the Inka state during the initial process of
Cusco area political consolidation (Sarmiento de Gamboa 2007[1572]), and thereafter remained
integral members of the Cusco area Inka hierarchy, serving as loyal allies of the Cusco
(Washkar) faction during the later Inka civil war (Garcilaso de la Vega 1965[1609]: 56-57;
Guaman Poma 1980[1615]: 310; Santa Cruz Pachakuti Yamqui 1968[1613]). 11 Moreover,
archival research has revealed that the Ollantaytambo area was both the subject of early Spanish
economic development, and a site of contestation between local indigenous and Spanish
ecclesiastical authorities (Burns 1999; Glave and Remy 1983). The Spanish references certainly
indicate that the Inkas thought of the Ollantaytambo area as a crucial part of the Cusco region
during the early Colonial period. Considering the participation of these groups in later historical
events, survey data from this area provide a tantalizing glimpse of the sociocultural practices and
political processes through which these local actors contributed to the development of the
nascent Inka state in the Cusco region.

11

I do not use these social group names. There is no way of knowing whether such late sixteenth century
names correspond to the social groups that inhabited this area throughout the twelfth to fourteenth centuries.

29

Figure 1.1: The WAP Survey Zone

Archaeological sites in the Ollantaytambo area reflect how different political regimes
have sought to shape and reshape this region. In particular, the survey area contains several
notable archaeological sites that have been characterized as seats of pre-Inka political authority
(Bauer 2004; Kendall 1996; Niles 1980; Rowe 1944). Prominent among these sites are the
monumental and fortified sites of Wata and Pumamarka. Excavations indicate that these sites
were occupied for centuries before they were architecturally embellished during the Inka period
(Chapter Three; Cuba 2003, 2004; Kendall 1992, 1996). Similarly, illustrating continuity in
places for key cultural practices, recent research has revealed that several tomb complexes in the
30

Ollantaytambo area were utilized for centuries, during both pre-Inka and Inka periods
(Bengsston 1988, 1991; Pardo 1946; Protzen 1985). The Ollantaytambo area was thus well
suited for a systematic regional study of how Inka political authority was predicated upon the
transformation of antecedent authoritative principals, practices, and places. Altogether, these
successive pre-Inka, Inka and Colonial occupations gesture to the continued cultural and political
significance of this area, thus demanding further study of how social actors situated within such
drastically different historical contexts staked their claims to authority within the same places.

31

Figure 1.1: This map shows the WAP survey zone, including all of the archaeological sites that had been
documented prior to this research.

32

In addition to its historical significance, the ecological variability of the survey area was
attractive to this study because it provided for the analysis of settlement patterns relative to
different kinds of land. Early Spanish Colonial documents and accounts (Burns 1999; Glave and
Remy 1983) attest that, during the late Inka and early Colonial periods, the Ollantaytambo area
contained optimal and highly valued land for maize production and camelid pastoralism. The
major river valleys of the survey area manifest this ecological diversity in different ways.
Running east to west, the Vilcanota valley is the widest and most visually arresting of the
alluvial systems within the survey area (Figure 1.3). The deep green hues of this broad valley
floor sharply contrast the towering snow-capped glaciers of the Cordillera Urubamba on its north
side, as well as the immense red sandstone bluffs of the high altitude Maras plain to the south.
The Vilcanota valley has long been considered prime maize production land (Glave and Remy
1983). Indeed, the valleys warm climate, abundant water sources, and low altitude (~2800 masl)
provide ideal conditions for the early planting and harvesting of maize, as well as the cultivation
of several species of fruits and vegetables that cannot be grown in the comparatively harsher
climate and higher altitude of neighboring regions, including the Cusco valley (Gade 1975).
Within the southern portion of the survey zone, the Huarocondo River cuts a deep canyon
into striking formations of red sandstone. Approximately 30km northwest of Cusco, the
geographical location of the Huarocondo canyon provides a natural conduit between markedly
different ecological zones, including the higher and more temperate lands of the Cusco Valley
(3200 3800 masl), the high altitude puna of the Salkantay region (4200 4800 masl), and the
lower and more humid transversal valleys situated along the Vilcanota River (2800 3000 masl).
Similarly, the Patacancha Valley is a narrow transversal river valley that feeds into the
larger Vilcanota system. Flanked by sheer craggy cliffs of limestone and andesite, this river
33

valley dramatically plummets from a high altitude pass (~ 4800 masl) surrounded by vast
pastoral plains to the relatively hot and humid colluvial terrace upon which was built the Inka
imperial monumental city of Ollantaytambo (~2500 masl). As with the Huarocondo canyon, the
Patacancha valley links several ecological zones. Indeed, within an expanse of only 22 aerial km,
the valley intersects lower coca producing lands, high-altitude pastoral lands, and lower maize
producing lands. This valley thus constitutes a mlange of vertically arranged ecological niches.
Situated amongst these deep valleys, the survey area envelopes different altitudinal
ecozones, ranging from ~ 2700 masl lower kichwa maize producing lands to ~ 4500 masl
puna dry steppe and pastoral terrain. 12 The vertical topography and patchwork ecological
diversity of the area must have presented both an enticing resource and an administrative
challenge to past systems of regional governance and political economy. By crosscutting these
different ecological zones, the survey area allowed for documentation of changes in settlement
organization relative to the socioeconomic use of different resource areas or Andean ecological
tiers (Chapter Three; Covey 2006a; Erickson 2000; Gade 1975; Zimmerer 1998, 1999),
including processes of agricultural or pastoral intensification.

12

For a detailed discussion of different ecological tiers within the Cusco region, see Gade (1975).

34

Figure 1.2: This map shows the three major river valleys of the survey zone, as well as maize agricultural lands
(see below).

35

The WAP survey data also provide an opportunity for the direct comparison of settlement
patterns and ecological history. Recently, pollen cores were extracted from Markaqocha, a dry
lakebed located within the WAP survey zone (Chepstow-Lusty et al. 1996, 2004). When
combined with Andean lake and ice cores (Kolata and Ortloff 1996; Thompson et al. 1985, 1987,
1995), the pollen cores suggest that dramatic climate changes coincided with both the inception
of the LIP and the integration of the Inka polity (Chepstow-Lusty et al. 1996: 829). The WAP
survey data provide an opportunity to document how regional changes in climate and agricultural
production activities corresponded to changes in local and regional settlement patterns.
Finally, the WAP survey adjoins areas that were recently surveyed by Covey (n.d.,
2006a), and Bauer (1992; 2004) (Figure 1.4), as well as areas that have been archaeologically
reconnoitered by Heffernan (1989, 1996), and Kendall (1984, 1986). The WAP survey
documented the occupational history of 307 archaeological sites, ranging from preceramic lithic
scatters to complex settlements and ceremonial centers with well-preserved architecture that
were established during the pre-Inka, Inka and Colonial Periods. The completion of the WAP
survey thus greatly augments the overall macro-scale dataset for the Cusco region, allowing for
comparison of similarities and differences in pre-Inka and Inka settlement patterns throughout an
area of approximately 2500km2, in which over 3000 archaeological sites have been documented.

36

Figure 1.4: This map shows the adjoining areas that have been systematically surveyed in the Cusco region (and
published when this was written). Similar methods were employed in all of these surveys.

Site Selection: Wata

Complementing the survey, excavations were conducted at Wata, a pre-Inka settlement
that was transformed into an Inka ceremonial center during the early phase of Inka state
formation. Wata is situated on a high ridge located approximately 40km from the Inka imperial
capital of Cusco. Similar to many Cusco area pre-Inka sites (Covey 2006a), Wata is located at
3800-3900masl, between lower maize production, mid-level quinoa and tuber cultivation, and
higher pastoral ecozones (Gade 1975:104). By comparing the occupational history of Wata with
settlement patterns recorded by the survey, I recorded how changes in socioeconomic and
ceremonial practices at this particular site were linked to regional social transformations.
37

The prominent architectural feature of Wata is an enormous perimeter wall reaching five
meters in height and stretching for over one kilometer (Figure 1.4). In other Andean regions, it
has been proposed that such fortified hilltop sites were first occupied during the Late
Intermediate Period (Arkush 2005, 2008; Arkush and Stanish 2005; DAltroy 1992; Dean 2005;
Earle et al. 1987; Stanish 2003). Yet surface collection and excavation data from Wata indicate
that it was continually occupied for at least 1500 years before the LIP (Chapter Four). Given the
long-term occupation and pre-Inka elaboration of Wata, excavations provided analytical entre
into how practices and spaces at this local site were transformed as local people were
incorporated into the developing Inka state.

Figure 1.5: Wata

38

Besides this massive wall, what is striking about Wata is the robust evidence for its Inka
period transformation. Preliminary excavations suggest that, during the Inka period, the
nucleated pre-Inka domestic settlement within the inner core of Wata was partially destroyed
and replaced by open plazas, platforms, and dispersed large rectangular buildings (Chapter Four;
Cuba 2003, 2004; Vera Robles 2000). Numerous buildings at Wata include classic hallmarks of
the Inka architectural canon for ceremonial sites (Gasparini and Margolies 1980), such as
trapezoidal niches, double-frame windows, and double-jambed doorways. Complementing the
previous research at Wata, my excavations investigated how these Inka institutional spaces and
their attendant practices were linked to and built upon preexisting political structures. That is, I
documented the degree to which pre-Inka objects, practices, and spaces were retained during the
Inka period occupation of Wata.

Research Design
Building upon previous research, the project hypothesized that the integration of the Inka
polity was predicated upon the manipulation and transformation of preexisting political practices
and spaces. To test this hypothesis, the research gauged: (1) whether and how changes in macroscale socioeconomic practices corresponded to the formation of the Inka polity, (2) whether and
how Inka period political practices and spaces were linked to pre-Inka political practices and
spaces.
The first research objective tracked changes in regional settlement patterns, site
occupational history, and land use in order to investigate whether and how the integration of the
Inka polity coincided with the transformation of local spatial and socioeconomic organization.
The second research objective delineated changes in spatial practices within sites that were
39

occupied throughout both pre-Inka and Inka periods. Among the spatial practices that were
investigated, the project was primarily interested in documenting potential changes in the
spatiality and content of feasting and ancestor veneration, since many researchers claim that
these social practices generated political authority within the ancient Andes. Changes in these
practices were revealed through the analysis of inter-site and intra-site differences in
architecture, surface-collected pottery sherds, and excavated artifacts and ecofacts. Targeted
radiocarbon dates from clear pre-Inka and Inka contexts were compared with results from the
excavation analysis in order to gauge how the reorganization of Wata coincided with changes in
everyday political practices, primarily collective food consumption. The final research objective
addressed how social practices and architecture were transformed at select sites, such as Wata.
Prior to this project, few archaeological research projects had specifically attended to the
institutional changes through which Inka authority was established in the Cusco region.
Complementing previous research on broad political and economic changes (Bauer 2004; Covey
2006a), my project tested whether there were differences in the spatiality and/ or content of local
political practices. In short, the WAP examined whether and how early Inka governance was first
built upon preexisting principles of authority.

Methodology
This project employed a multi-scalar methodology. It integrated data from: (1) a macroscale involving the intensive full-coverage pedestrian survey of an approximately 200km2 area,
(2) an intermediate scale of mapping, intensive surface collections, and architectural studies at
specific sites and (3) a micro-scale of extensive excavations at Wata, a pre-Inka town that was
transformed into an Inka fortified ceremonial center. Fieldwork in Per involved a stratified
40

program of four research phases (systematic survey, mapping and surface collections,
excavations, and ceramic/faunal analysis), each lasting four-six months.

First Research Phase: Systematic Survey

The WAP employed archaeological survey techniques developed for the Andes by
Parsons et al. (2000), and influenced by several other Andean survey projects (Bauer 1992, 2004;
Covey 2003, 2006a; Earle et al. 1980; Schreiber 1987, 1999; Stanish 1997, 2003). A team of four
archaeologists walked survey lines that were spaced at twenty to fifty meter intervals. Interval
distance varied depending on the terrain and the vegetation. Archaeological sites were defined as
artifact scatters containing five or more different ceramic sherds or other types of artifact.
Smaller artifact scatters were recorded in notebooks. Global Positioning Systems (GPS) points
were taken for all archaeological sites, smaller artifact scatters, and environmental features such
as springs or caves. To ensure accurate representation of site size, multiple GPS points were
recorded if sites were larger than one hectare. Standardized survey forms were used to record a
total of 25 cultural, ecological, and topographic variables for each site. 13 Sketch maps were
drawn of most sites. If architectural remains were present, measurements were taken of a sample
of building wall widths, door widths, stone sizes, and internal areas.
A sample of surface-level pottery and lithic artifacts was systematically collected from
each documented archaeological site. When a site was encountered, the survey team walked

13

These variables included: a site number; a site code; the contemporary toponym for the site; the nearest
contemporary community to the site; distance from nearest contemporary community; site elevation; site coordinates
(Universal Transverse Mercator [UTM] zone 18S); site size (length and width); geomorphological classification;
ecological zone; distance to observed water source; the type of water source; the UTM coordinates for the water
source; degree of erosion; degree of vegetation; kind of site; contemporary use; cultural attributes; architectural
attributes; function; maximum ceramic density; median ceramic density; ceramic styles present; other artifacts
present; bags collected.

41

parallel lines at five to ten meter intervals, collecting all artifacts within these lines. However,
separate zones were often established within sites that contained obvious surface-level variations
in topography, architecture, vegetation, land use, or contemporary habitation. Materials from
these zones were collected separately. For instance, an ancient tomb sector would be collected
separately from an ancient residential area, just as the area near a contemporary house would be
collected separately from an area within a maize field. Collected artifacts were placed in labeled
bags. Following each week of survey work, all materials were transported to the laboratory for
washing, processing, marking, analysis, and classification.
Employing these collection techniques, the WAP documented the densities and
percentages of surface-level artifacts, particularly decorated serving vessels, relative to total sitewide samples of recovered artifacts. The importance of feasting events to prehispanic Andean
political economy and social authority has been well documented in multiple archaeological and
ethnohistorical contexts (e.g. Bray 2003; Costin and Earle 1989; Cummins 2002; DAltroy and
Hastorf 2001; Hastorf 2001, 2003; Jennings 2004; Morris and Thompson 1985; Ogburn 2005;
Ramrez 2005; see Chapter Four). By looking at the distribution of serving vessels and
architecture throughout a region we thus gained analytical entre into the practices through
which ancient authority was assembled.
The analysis of survey ceramics was accomplished in two stages. First, recovered sherds
were washed and then grouped according to key attributes, including paste color, stylistic
criteria, inclusion types, surface treatments, and firing techniques. Broad classificatory groups
were established from these criteria. The most important groups corresponded to the pre-Inka
(Ollanta Phase, OP, ca. 1000 1300 C.E.) and Inka (ca. 1300 1532 C.E.) occupations of the

42

area. 8,949 sherds were classified during this first stage of analysis. Drawings and photographs
were made of many of these sherds.
Second, due to the projects analytical focus on serving vessels, the classification of
vessel forms was of paramount importance. These broad temporal groups were then further
subdivided according to five categories of vessel form plates, bowls, small jars, large jars, and
large pots. Plates, bowls, and small jars were classified as serving vessels. The analysis of 1,393
excavated rim sherds from Wata showed that specific rim types and forms correspond with
vessel forms from the two periods (see below; Chapter Three and Four). Following the criteria
established in the excavations, we classified the survey sherds as different kinds of vessel forms,
broadly serving vessels and non-serving vessels. When rims were not present, we often classified
vessels based upon other diagnostic criteria, including bases, ceramic wall widths, and
morphological features.
In analyzing the survey data, both site sizes and serving vessel percentages per site were
categorized into four ranks using a classification by natural breaks (jenks) method. Site size
ranks were not assumed to coincide with administrative tiers. To classify sites, the ranks were
considered in tandem with serving vessel distributions. These ranks were used in categorical
statistical analysis (chi-square). The table below compares the ranked categories of OP (preInka) and Inka sites:

Rank
1
2
3
4

OP size (ha)
0-1
1.01 - 3
3.01 - 8
8.01 - 20

Inka size (ha)

0 1.2
1.21 5
5.01 12
12.01 - 27

OP SV %
08
9 25
26 50
51 66

Inka SV %
0 11
12 31
32 55
56 94

Table 1.1: Site size and serving vessel categories used throughout throughout this study.

43

By using this method, site size and serving vessel ranks are specific to the variation in
each recorded sample, rather than arbitrary designations. Creating ranks in this way allowed for
consideration and comparison of changes in the spatiality of certain practices, without biasing the
data with assumptions about site size. Serving vessel ranks are based on weight/count ratios of
recovered sherds, and are then rendered in ubiquity rates (percent present) of the overall sample
collected within each site or site zone. Throughout the analysis, serving vessel percentages were
used in tandem with architectural data in order to approximate the kinds of practices that
occurred at each site.
The project also conducted an analysis of different categories of land. Employing a range
of complementary datasets and analytical techniques, I analyzed the overall area of potential
maize production terrain (MPT) within the survey zone. Potential maize-production terrain
(MPT) is defined as land that adheres to the biological requirements of maize cultivation (Gade
1975; Hastorf 1993), more specifically land that (1) has less than a ten-percent slope and is
located at an altitude less than 3200m (MPT1), or (2) has less than a fifteen-percent slope and is
located at an altitude less than 3500m (MPT2). 14 The study was particularly concerned with
potential agricultural land use and its link to changes in settlement patterns. I documented areas

14

The first of these categories presents ideal conditions for dry-farmed maize cultivation, assuming that a
water source is located nearby and soils are adequate. The second of these categories refers to land that is neither
optimal nor preferred, but is still sufficient for extensive dry-farmed maize production, providing that soil erosion
and water loss can be controlled. Frosts will always be a concern within MPT2 lands. Yet, extensive areas that were
labeled as MPT2 continue to be dry-farmed or irrigated through ad hoc non-permanent methods to this day. Thus,
given these conditions, both MPT1 and MPT2 land is expected to have been adequate for small-scale dry farming
maize production, without requiring the construction of permanent irrigation or terrace systems. The potential maize
agricultural areas were also checked by referring to a series of early Spanish Colonial documents containing
information on the amount and kind of agricultural products yielded by specific communities throughout the survey
area, specifically the northern Tampu area along the Vilcanota River (Glave and Remy 1983). Although they are far
from exhaustive, these data are more accurate than measurements of settlement location that are made relative to the
more broadly defined Andean ecological tiers (e.g. Parsons et al. 2000).

44

of potential maize production terrain based upon GIS analysis of slope and altitude, remote
sensing analysis of soil reflectance within ASTER images, and detailed field observations,
including both the documentation of current agricultural fields and informal interviews with
contemporary farmers. In tandem, these different forms of data provide for a working definition
of areas exhibiting the potential for maize cultivation in both the past and present contexts. These
definitions were subsequently used as platforms from which to consider the relation between OP
settlement locations and general land use patterns.
The WAP survey employed a similar methodology of systematic collection to the
previous projects within the Cusco region and the Andes, more generally (see below; Bauer
1992, 2004; Covey 2003, 2006a). Local Peruvian archaeologists trained in the previous projects
were also employed within the WAP, thus allowing for consistency in data collection techniques
and personnel. Regional similarities in many artifact and architectural styles allowed for such
experienced individuals to compare their knowledge of other survey areas with the one
considered here. A professional Peruvian archaeologist co-director (Vicentina Galiano Blanco),
two experienced Peruvian archaeologists, and myself conducted the survey over a period of four
months, from September until December of 2005. At the end of the survey (2005), data were
entered into a GIS database. Maps were generated using ASTER images. All recovered artifacts
were submitted to the Instituto Nacional de Cultura in Cusco.

Second Research Phase: Mapping and Surface Collections

More intensive surface collections were conducted at twenty sites. Surface collections
were conducted at sites containing high densities of pre-Inka and Inka surface-level pottery
sherds in order to document any changes that occurred in activity areas and site function between
45

the two periods. The objective was to gauge differences in artifact distribution between areas
with Inka architecture, areas without Inka structures, and tomb sectors. Due to differences in
surface-level artifact densities, broad zones (~50 meter radius) were established around spaces
containing Inka niched buildings and plaza/platform spaces, tomb sectors, and structures within
residential sectors. Within these zones, fieldworkers walked lines spaced at two to five meter
intervals, recovering all artifacts situated along their lines. Artifact densities from formal,
residential, and tomb zones were compared. This collection strategy allowed for better
representation of the surface-level materials associated with separate sectors. Artifact densities
were determined within and between the zones by establishing a median of the overall quantity
of observed ceramics, then categorizing the data as low, medium, and high densities (relative to
the site-wide sample).
Detailed maps were produced at three sites: Wata and two comparable pre-Inka and Inka
settlements (Pacpayoq and Markaqocha). These sites were chosen for mapping because they
represent different processes through which the Inkas converted local settlements. Wata was a
pre-Inka settlement that was converted into an Inka monumental center. At Markaqocha,
monumental Inka buildings were constructed among pre-Inka residential structures. Pacpayoq is
an Inka residential settlement built among pre-Inka residential structures. At these sites, we
recorded topography, building forms, agricultural terraces, irrigation canals, plazas, platforms
and salient natural features (e.g. large boulders). Maps were produced using a Leica TCR-705
total station. Topographic points were taken at ~1-2m intervals. Additional points were taken
wherever architectural, environmental, or geological features were present. Over 6500
topographic and architectural points were taken while mapping the 27ha area of Wata.
Approximately 3000 points were taken while mapping the smaller sites of Markaqocha and
46

Pacpayoq. The map data were compared with results from systematic surface collections at all
three sites in order to determine how the spatial layout of these pre-Inka settlements was
reorganized following their Inka appropriation. At Wata, excavation data was compared with
the maps to document changes in spatial practice, particularly changes in access to spaces and
objects.
In addition, at Wata we conducted systematic surface collections within specified units,
each with a five-meter radius. We used a stratified systematic unaligned sampling strategy to
measure differences in surface level ceramics recovered within different sectors of the sites This
strategy takes into account differences between spaces within and outside of the architecture,
while also providing for better coverage of the entire site area (see Orton 2000: 93; Plog 1976:
137). Using the topographic maps, and ArcMap 9.2, I classified five categories of slope degrees
on a raster surface. The resulting map was used to gauge where collection units may be placed
relative to degrees of slope, thus allowing for the study of how materials in select units may have
accumulated due to colluvial processes.

Third Research Phase: Excavations at Wata

Finally, the WAP excavated multiple limited scale units throughout the monumental
intramural sector and the residential extramural sector of Wata. During the 2006 season, twentyone units were excavated, constituting a total area of approximately 149m2 and a total volume of
195.8m3. Throughout the excavations, house structures were the primary architectural units of
analysis. Houses were excavated in order to gauge how changes in local socioeconomic practices
corresponded to changes recorded by the survey, and evident Inka architectural restructuring of
Wata. Excavations targeted the internal spaces of houses, as well as external patios or Inka
47

period platforms. The units gauged the vertical occupational history of residential structures
while allowing for some documentation of horizontal relationships between features, activity
areas, artifact scatters, and depositional contexts. Plazas and open platform spaces were
secondary units of analysis. These spaces were excavated in order to determine how changes in
local socioeconomic and/or ceremonial practices such as public feasting events coincided
with the overt changes in institutional, ceremonial, and domestic architecture at Wata. Based on
our systematic surface collection data from Wata (Chapter Four), these excavation units were
placed in areas of medium to high artifact densities, typically next to or within the plaza and
platform spaces. These units allowed for identification and investigation of refuse, food
consumption, and food preparation areas. Two professional Peruvian archaeologists, a crew of
ten experienced field workers, two University of Chicago graduate students, and myself
conducted these excavations over a period of three months, from early June until late August of
2006.
Excavation unit sizes varied relative to particular architectural contexts and research
objectives. Two test units (1x1m) and nine smaller units (1x2m; 2x2m) were excavated in order
to assess the occupational history and function of different intramural and extramural residential
spaces. The smaller units allowed for the documentation of similarities and differences in vertical
depositional and occupational sequences throughout a broad portion of the different intramural
and extramural sectors. These limited scale excavations recorded overall vertical sequences;
measured differences in taphonomic processes, site formation processes, and geology throughout
the area; and recorded the depositional patterns or the location of potential activity areas. In
addition, five intermediate-scale (2x4m; 2x5m) excavations were conducted within specific
contexts. The intermediate-scale units were excavated in order to compare the internal and
48

external areas of structures. Additionally, we excavated five broad excavation units (3x3m;
4x4m; 5x5m) in order to uncover architectural remains that may have been leveled or built over
during the Inka occupation. 15 The broad excavation units provided for the examination of the
entire internal area of an Inka niched structure (Unit 16), as well as the majority of the internal
area of two Inka houses (Units 4, 6) and one Inka elite house (Unit 19). 16 By distributing
excavation units in this way, we considered how different plaza and house spaces related to the
entire site over time, instead of treating just one or two excavated spaces as representative of the
entire site. Through the investigation of similarities and differences in depositional processes,
artifact assemblages, features, and construction techniques, we recorded changes and continuities
in local socioeconomic and ceremonial practices, especially those linked to food preparation, and
collective consumption (feasting).
Both natural strata and arbitrary (5-10cm) levels were documented. Pre-Inka and Inka
period contexts were classified relative to the particular stratigraphy of each unit. According to a
conservative calculation, 37.3m3 of these units corresponded to OP occupation, while 59.2m3
corresponded to Inka period occupation. This is calculation does not take into account any
excavation levels that may correspond to the fill that was emplaced while Wata was rebuilt, or
any levels that correspond to Inka period abandonment processes. A dense lens of fill often
separated OP and Inka occupational contexts. This fill was categorized as OP-Inka, since it
corresponds to the practices through which Wata was rebuilt (Chapter Five).
15

Based on the results of previous research by Cuba (2003), both pre-Inka and Inka structures and features
were expected to be uncovered (see Chapters Three and Four).
16

One of these broader excavations (4x4m) was situated within a monumental Inka niched building (Unit
18). After approximately two levels (20cm) of excavation, it became apparent that the context was disturbed. That
is, the Inka occupational levels were stripped away. We only found a few Formative sherds, intermixed with the
plastic knob of a radio. Revealing the disturbed context, these artifacts were situated almost directly above the white
sandstone bedrock.

49

The excavations were designed to reveal changes in food preparation and consumption
practices over time within the different sectors of Wata. First, since they were distributed
throughout the site, the excavation units revealed temporal and spatial differences in the quantity
and density of the artifacts that constituted collective consumption events. Such artifacts include
decorated serving vessel ceramics, cooking vessels, as well as charred and uncharred faunal
remains of select species (see ceramic and faunal analysis below). Second, the complementary
intermediate-scale and broad excavations exposed how specific artifact types were associated
with particular kinds of features or depositional contexts. Building on the research design
employed in the Mantaro region of the Andes (see Costin and Earle 1989; DAltroy and Hastorf
2001), I documented how changes in food preparation activities were linked to changes in the
densities of certain objects. It was assumed that, if feasting became a politicized practice located
in communal spaces, then, we would expect to see a decrease in food serving vessels or storage
vessels within houses.
In addition to these food preparation and consumption practices, excavations at Wata
were designed to reveal changes that may have occurred in the production, distribution, and trade
of both utilitarian and non-utilitarian goods. By studying the distribution of such materials, I
further documented the changes in local practices that corresponded to the architectural
renovation of Wata. To do this, I concentrated on differences in the density, quantity, and
location of agricultural tools and ceramics, as well as tools related to textile production and
metals. Generally, research in the Inka imperial provinces has shown that the reorganization of
specialization activities involved the heightened production of goods that indexed Inka authority.
Such goods include maize (Gade 1975; Murra 1980), imperial-style ceramics (Bray 1991, 2000;
Julien 2004); tin-bronze (Costin and Earle 1989; DAltroy and Earle 1985; Lechtman 1976,
50

1984, 1988), and textiles (Murra 1989). Since it appears as though Wata was recast as a highprofile site that itself indexed Inka authority, its inhabitants may have been responsible for the
production of such state-administered objects.
Also, non-local materials taken from various depths within each excavation unit suggest
historical changes in exchange relations, as well as a broader sphere of social interaction. The
relative presence of non-local ceramic sherds within pre-Inka and Inka contexts reveals how the
social connections that the inhabitants of Wata may have held. Similarly, an increase or
decrease in the amount of local and non-local exchange was measured by noting the overall
temporal variation in materials that cannot be procured in the immediate area surrounding Wata.
Such materials include obsidian, products from the lowland tropical selva, as well as marine
shells imported from the Pacific coast.

Fourth Research Phase: Analysis of Excavated Materials

The analysis compared materials from both domestic and institutional spaces, extramural
and intramural areas, considering both pre-Inka and Inka time periods and any spatial or
temporal changes that may have occurred.
Ceramic analysis proceeded according to the same criteria that were used throughout the
survey. The analysis was principally concerned with identifying differences in ceramic forms,
especially the decorated serving and storage vessels that were most likely associated with public
or ceremonial feasting events. Rim forms and styles were often used as diagnostic features to
classify such vessel forms (see Chapter Three and Four). If vessel rims were not present, then
bases or body sherds could often be used to identify different kinds of vessels. Overall, the
excavation analysis classified 5,326 diagnostic pottery sherds. Throughout the analysis, sherd
51

weights were used along with sherd counts in order to quantify both the total number and
average size of ceramic sherds (Chapter Five). For statistical analyses, weights 17 as well as
counts were used because sherds tend to be smaller and broken up within active plow areas, or
spaces like Wata that have undergone drastic post-depositional changes (see Costin and Earle
1989).
In particular, the analysis gauged whether there was a significant increase in the kinds of
material that constituted food preparation and consumption practices. Such materials include
decorated ceramic serving vessels, charred animal bones, particular kinds of animal remains,
burnt pottery, and grinding tools. Charred bones may be indicative of roasted meat, a highprestige item (Costin and Earle 1989; Sandefur 2001). Burnt pots reflect cooking practices.
Grinding tools represent food preparation activities. The analysis considered the overall
contribution of charred bone, burnt pottery and burnt rock or mortar within any given excavation
context. By doing so, we were able to gauge whether a context was burnt (ritual or otherwise),
whether it was a locus for food production, or whether it was a locus where consumed foodstuff
and associated materials were deposited. We also considered botanical materials, yet concluded
that a larger sample is necessary to understand the changes that occurred within these contexts.
During the excavations, faunal remains were derived from arbitrary levels. Specimens
were collected from 1x1m loci located within every excavation unit. Faunal remains extracted
from features (hearths, pits, offerings) were separated from the general level context. In order to
gauge potential size-biases of recovered faunal specimens, screened sample counts and weights
were compared with those derived from flotation light and heavy fractions. The screened faunal

17

Ceramic quantities from each stratigraphic level were weighed in the field on both digital and spring

balances.

52

remains from each level or feature context were counted and weighed. In total 13,572 faunal
specimens were recovered during the 2006 excavations. 44% of these faunal remains are from
clear cultural contexts of features. Field analysis identified the presence of deer, camelid, and
guinea pig specimens associated with pre-Inka and Inka contexts. Percentages of carbonized and
un-carbonized (charred and uncharred) bone were documented for each loci, level, feature
context, and unit. These data were used to differentiate food preparation areas, distinguishing
between charred or roasted bones that were associated with feasting events, and uncharred,
boiled bones that may have been associated more with everyday consumption (Russell 1999).
Measures of relative species abundance from the faunal analysis documented temporal
and spatial differences in the use of wild and domesticated animals at Wata. The analysis
documented temporal changes in the use of domesticated animals at Wata. The sites location
near a high plain containing numerous corrals suggests that Wata was the center of a robust
pastoral economy (Kosiba and Cuba 2006). The study documented temporal and spatial ratios of
deer to camelid remains in order to gauge the relative importance of these animals to dietary
regimes. Also, the analysis documented the use of two domesticated species (llama, guinea pig)
that are known to have had both ritual and economic significance in the prehistoric Andes
(Miller and Burger 1995).
Also, sediment samples were extracted from all of the twenty-two excavation units within
Wata. Each unit was blanket sampled, thus the collection strategy was not biased toward
features or spaces containing high densities of visible plant remains (Pearsall 1989:95; Popper
and Hastorf 1988). Sediments were collected from loci within each level of every unit. Scatter
samples were collected from larger contexts from which an averaged sample was desired
(Wright et al. 2003:385).
53

Sediment samples were standardized. At least 2L of sediment was derived from each
10cm level within each unit. An additional 4L were collected from feature contexts, and an
additional 2L samples from contexts located above, below, and beside features. Samples from
these contiguous contexts will allow for the investigation of whether a feature is independent of
its surroundings, thus providing for an analysis of food preparation activities, depositional and
post-depositional processes, the potential contamination of contexts, and the depositional source
of plant remains (Lennstrom and Hastorf 1995; Pearsall 1988; Spector 1970). In total, 538 2L
bags of sediment were collected throughout the 2006 excavations at Wata. 347 of these samples
are from clear cultural contexts, such as hearths, floors, middens, burials, pits, plaza areas, and
storage areas, as well as fill areas, roof fall and post-occupational deposits. During the 2006
excavations, macrobotanical remains (whole maize kernels and tubers) were recovered within the
screens from 68% (247) of the 1x1m loci.
Sediment samples were floated using a manual technique. Following standard procedures
(Wright et al. 2003: 385), floating material was poured through fine chiffon covering a
geological sieve with 0.5mm mesh. Materials were dislodged from the matrix through agitation.
Additional floating material was extracted with a tea strainer.
Unfortunately, our sediment samples were contaminated when in storage. Rodent activity
and water damage destroyed over 200 samples. The remaining sediment samples were floated.
Light and heavy fractions were analyzed. Since a random portion of the total sample was
destroyed, this study only uses macrobotanical remains to discuss the relative presence or
absence of plant material within different contexts.
The faunal and macrobotanical analyses were conducted at the Centro de Investigaciones
Arqueobiolgicas y Paleoecolgicas Andinas, "ARQUEOBIOS", in Trujillo, Peru. Analysis took
54

place in this laboratory in 2007. The analysis was conducted by the laboratory director (Victor
Vasquez Sanchez), two Peruvian university students and myself. The ARQUEBIOS laboratory
has participated in numerous investigations of excavated plant and animal remains from both the
Peruvian highlands and coast. The reference collections and facilities at this laboratory provide
the ideal environment to undertake such an analysis. At this time, such facilities and personnel
are lacking in Cusco.
Fifteen organic samples were dated in order to place the social and political
transformation of Wata within an absolute historical trajectory. Thirteen samples were derived
from contexts at Wata, while two samples were derived from structures at Markaqocha. The
samples were analyzed at the Accelerator Mass Spectrometry laboratory at the University of
Arizona. Only a small number of radiocarbon dates have been obtained from excavated LIP-Inka
sites in the Cusco region (cf. Bauer 1992, 2004; Covey 2003, 2006a; Hollowell 1987; Kendall
1996; McEwan 2006; see Appendix A). Many of the Cusco area LIP dates are from architectural
mortar (Bengsston 1998; Covey 2006a; Kendall 1985, 1996), and lack a clear cultural context.
Radiocarbon dates from Wata and Markaqocha provide a crucial supplement to the already
dated structures, thus providing for the refinement and elaboration of Cusco area ceramic and
architectural chronologies.
Data derived from the analyses was entered into a relational database. The database is
integrated with ArcGIS. Data from the project was statistically analyzed through use of SPSS
software. In particular, paired t-tests were used in order to establish whether there were
statistically significant differences between pre-Inka and Inka stratigraphic levels in the overall
percentage or density of any single variable derived from different scalar levels: features, cultural
contexts, units, and sectors. Also, excavation data was transformed into categorical data in order
55

to allow for the documentation of the covariation of types of materials within and among the
excavated units. Chi-square and correlation analyses were employed in order to determine how
certain ceramic forms, ceramic types, or animal remains co-vary with different variables and
spaces over time. Single variables were staged from broader (e.g. Inka) to more precise
categories (Inka decorated plate) and then tested against other single variables (e.g. animal type).
Such a staged analysis allowed me to discern whether there are significant correlations between
such materials, thus providing for the identification of areas in which feasting events may have
been staged.

Conclusions
Research within the Ollantaytambo area was thus designed to produce evidence of how
the Inkas declared their regional political authority by transforming socioeconomic and
ceremonial practices. By gauging the degree to which the Inkas converted and regulated pre-Inka
political practices and places, my research provides original and important insights into how this
general process of Inka state formation altered local political structures in order to constitute
regional authority and produce political subjects in the Cusco region. This contributes to
anthropological theory by considering how sociopolitical transformations at local settlements
defined the organizational contours of one of the worlds largest empires. First, an understanding
of changes in political places and practices at Wata throughout Inka state formation provides for
a view of local peoples participation in, acceptance of, and/or resistance to a process of political
consolidation. This viewpoint contrasts with managerial theories that describe state formation as
a centrifugal process in which elites within a center forcefully assert their will upon outlying
regions. Moreover, it shifts our focus from a description of political economy to an account of
56

political incorporation and subjectivization. Second, an account of spatial and practical

transformations in the Wata area requires the consideration of both physical changes in location,
as well as changes in local institutions (Halperin 1989). In attending to these social
transformations, we move beyond stale top-down accounts of coercive state power and we being
to understand processes of conversion. In short, we gain an understanding of how local people
perceive and experience a process of state consolidation, and how such people may be complicit
in their own subjectivization.

57

CHAPTER TWO
CULTIVATING THE PAST: ORDER AND AUTHORITY IN INKA NARRATIVES

All of them tell of how before the florescence of the Inkas, the people did not
have rulers or sovereigns. We know that before they did not have order, reason, or
justice like they have had after [Inka rule]. We know this because everybody
knows this and confirms it. 1 (Cieza 1985[1554]: 31, Ch. 3) [my translation and
italics]

In early sixteenth century Per, a young Spanish soldier named Pedro de Cieza de Len
recorded what everybody knew about Inka history. But, recorded centuries after the emergence
of the Inka state, what everybody knew about the long vanished pre-Inka world reveals more
about Inka claims to authority and practices of political legitimation than it does about actual
events. In this chapter, I examine sixteenth century Inka statements about the pre-Inka past to
demonstrate how Inka claims to authority were rooted in an epochal view of history. That is,
such claims were framed by discourses about an inferior and uncivilized past world the
conversion and transformation of which was entrusted, by sacred mandate, to the divinely
ordained Inkas (see also Salles-Reese 1997: 100-112). Then, I focus on how the Inkas claimed
that the conversion of particular pre-Inka places was essential to the conversion of local people
into Inka subjects. Chronicled during the waning days of the Inka Empire, certain themes
common to such statements in particular, the ways in which they conjure images of barbarous
pre-Inka disorder and the processes of conversion that wrought a civilized Inka order offer a
1

Cuentan estas naciones que antiguamente, muchos anos antes que hobiese Incas estando las tierras muy
pobladas de gentes las gentes deste reino antes que floresciesen los Incas ni del se hiciesen senores soberanos por
el, antes sabemos, por lo que todos sabemos y afirman, que eran behetrias sin tener la orden y gran razon y justicia
que despues tuvieron. (my italics)

58

provocative glimpse of a imperial ideology of absolute authority at work.

Ciezas account is an example of what are called the chronicles of the Inkas. The
chronicles are a corpus of sixteenth and seventeenth century documents penned by a series of
indigenous, mestizo, and Spanish authors from various stations and perspectives. Such Spanish
documentation includes administrative records, interviews, stories, and observations. Although
often referred to as if they are a unified corpus, the Spanish chronicles are neither transparent
nor literal renderings of a general Inka history (cf. Julien 2000). They reflect the variety of
political and historical contexts in which they were produced, as well as the panoply of opinions
and motivations held by the Spanish, mestizo and indigenous authors who produced them. 2
Recognizing the variety and potential biases of these documents, scholars often read the
chronicles in order to understand and interpret the processes that contributed to Inka expansion
throughout the Andes. The chronicles range from the diaries of young soldiers who were among
the only Europeans to see the Inka Empire at its height of imperial pomp and grandeur, to
systematic interviews overseen by Spanish officials bent on producing an image of the Inkas
consonant with a distant kings desire to justify and legitimate Spanish imperialism. 3 Some
researchers have read these chronicles as almost literal renderings of historical events and actors

Researchers have often categorized the chronicles according to different criteria. Raul Porras Barrenechea
(1984) divided the chronicles into four successive temporal periods. Similarly, Means (1928) categorizes them
according to whether the chronicler was sympathetic (e.g. Garcilasan authors) or critical (e.g. Toledan authors)
toward the Inkas. Rowe (1945) classifies the chronicles according to how they represent the history of Inka imperial
development.

Both the content and the intended audience of these documents vary as widely as their authorship. Indeed,
the chronicles range from the keen observations of environment and everyday life that are found in Acosta or Cieza,
to the iron-fisted imperial inquisition of Sarmiento de Gamboa. However, the majority of these documents contain
some rendering of Inka history, and some description of the pre-Inka past. In terms of audience, some of these
documents were produced for Spanish political or religious officials, while others were produced for public
consumption.

59

 an historicist approach. 4 Others have contested their historical accuracy, instead reading
passages from the chronicles as metaphoric traces of an enduring and structuring suite of Andean
cultural values and beliefs a symbolic structuralist approach. 5 Here, I read certain passages in
the chronicles as political statements.
Certain passages within the chroniclers are political statements insofar as they silence
(Trouillot 1995) alternative versions and visions of the past while foregrounding a singular
account of Inka order. I call these passages narratives (cf. Julien 2000). 6 In this chapter,
narrative refers to statements about the past that are contained within the chronicles. In
rendering a specific story about the past, these narratives stake a political position. By
maintaining a narrow vision of a necessary progression from past to present, such narratives
reveal a position about the past, and construct the past relative to that position (Trouillot 1995).
That is, like the English literary tropes that silenced a dynamic history of political conflict by
describing the past as an idyllic era of chivalry (Williams 1973), a vision of Inka order is
intimately tied to a corresponding claim about the way that pre-Inka people were. Such silencing
4

This can be called the historicist approach to interpreting the Spanish chronicles of the Inkas.
Researchers following this approach claim that a critical reading of these documents divulges a literal history of the
Inkas. Although John H. Rowe is the most influential proponent of this approach, such researchers include: (e.g.
Brundage 1963; Hemming 1970; Julien 2000; Niles 1999; Rostworowski 1953, 1960, 1999; Rowe
1944,1945,1946,1967,1982,1985).

This has been labeled the symbolic structuralist approach to interpreting the Spanish chronicles.
Researchers following this approach eschew literal historicist renderings, and instead opt for an interpretation of the
chronicles based on the premise that the information contained therein reflects the social and cultural structure of the
Andes, more than an actual historical trajectory. Although R. Tom Zuidema is the most influential proponent of this
approach, such scholars include: (Duviols 1979, 1983; Pease 1978,1981,1982; Sherbondy 1982,1992; Zuidema
1964,1982,1983a, 1983b, 1989a, 1989b).
6

These statements are not fossilized Inka voices. They are reflections of a widespread ideological claim
about the pre-Inka past a claim that was essential to the imagination and the legitimacy of the Inka state. Similarly,
see Paxson (2005) for a beautifully rendered ethnographic study of how, within a small Russian village, social
memories recounting a history from Bolshevism to Perestroika lie within certain politically charged narratives about
landscape, whether or not it was the intention of the person telling the narrative to perpetuate this ideology (see also
Bourassa 1991).

60

is not rare among both expansionistic and inchoate states (e.g. Foucault 2003; Mitchell 1988;
Pagden 1995; Smith 2003; Trouillot 1995). In fact, we will see that what is extraordinary about
the Inka case is how change from a prior to a present way of being is explicitly conceptualized
through reference to changes in particular places.
The chapter begins with a brief discussion of the chronicles themselves, attending
particularly to the challenges faced by scholars studying the Spanish documents that contain
descriptions of the pre-Inka and Inka worlds. I then turn to an examination of Inka descriptions
of the pre-Inka past. I address narratives that specifically describe the processes of
transformation through which the Inkas said they extended their empire. I demonstrate how the
qualities of an imagined and ideal Inka state are continually reiterated through stories told about
the conversion of people and places from external and prehistoric others into intelligibly
ordered subjects of an Inka system. In analyzing these narratives, I seek to understand how the
expansion of the Inka state was not only an imperial mission of conquest, but also an ideological
process of incorporation whereby the Inka and their authority came to be defined as such.
The ethnohistorical accounts that are presented in this chapter illustrate how Inka
renderings of the Cusco area are structured through the constitution of sociocultural boundaries,
imagined or physical, that separate the Inka people of Cusco from pre-Inka or non-Inka people.
Throughout the chapter, I argue that Inka descriptions of their history are rooted within these
boundaries, as well as a vision of contrasting political epochs that are presented as disordered
and then ordered, barbarous and then civilized, pre-Inka and then Inka. This chapter thus details
how the Cusco area was imagined and perceived as an Inka heartland through stories that
explicitly differentiated this area and its inhabitants from others.

61

Excavating Inka History

An inquiry into Inka political narratives about their past is especially difficult, given that
the Inkas did not have a written history. The absence of a writing system within the Inka Empire
has long puzzled scholars. Although the Inkas are considered non-literate, many researchers
have discussed how the khipu, a system of knotted cords, provided for a kind of documentation
that approaches writing and thus could have been used to convey historical information 7
(Ascher and Ascher 1981; Quilter and Urton 2002; Urton 1998, 2003). Other researchers note
how the cantares, songs in which a kind of history was performed and broadcast, were
preferred media used to transmit and disseminate knowledge of the past (see Julien 2000: 163;
Niles 1999: 8-9; Tomlinson 2007: 130-131). 8 Also, several Spanish chroniclers mention how
representations of Inka history were painted on boards or tapestries (Cobo 1956[1653];
Sarmiento 2007[1572]), which unfortunately have been lost. Considering these different nonliterate media of historical representation, it is clear that the Inkas utilized a tradition of oral
narrative that merged specific representational materials with a performative or locutive manner
of telling particular histories (Quilter and Urton 2002). The performance of historical knowledge
would have been limited to specific contexts, situated practices, and a select audience.
Also, throughout the era of Inka rule, oral narratives about Inka history were susceptible
7

During the period of Inka rule, the khipu was created, altered and interpreted by specialists called
khipucamayoqs, who were charged with the task of presenting the information contained on their khipus (see Ascher
and Ascher 1981; Quilter and Urton 2002; Urton 2003). Some researchers have considered how the khipu may have
operated as a mnemonic device, or a form of documentation that worked in a similar way as writing (see Quilter and
Urton 2002; Urton 2003: 89). Such claims have implications for how we conceptualize Inka historical
representations and historical consciousness.
8

The Spanish chronicler Cieza de Len likened Inka songs to a form of Spanish epic poetry called cantares.
Julien argues that such songs were specialized media of historical knowledge that were about a particular ruler, and
were thus sung by members of that rulers panaka, or special descent group (2000:163). In a similar vein, Niles
(1999:8-9) describes how the cantares registered a certain kind of historical narrative about a royal familys
descendents, and perhaps implanted this version of history in the minds of others.

62

to constant circumstantial and opportunistic alteration. Eyewitness Spanish accounts tell of how
authority figures directed such performances. Indeed, Miguel de Estete (1918[1535]; also cited in
Julien 2000: 163) states that a special priest sang the cantar. These priests may have been
members of an elite group (panaka), and would have thus been in a privileged position to alter
their descent groups history relative to changing social and political contexts. Also, Inka elites
often remade history by forcibly erasing the claims and memories of rival factions killing their
members and confiscating their land. In short, if there was an Inka sense of their history, then
it certainly was a politically charged and ever-changing history, and not the static, generalized
and monolithic meta-narrative of history that was often rendered by the Spanish (see Patterson
1985; cf. Julien 2000). To be sure, when reading the chronicles, it is difficult to disentangle
Spanish and Inka ideological renderings of history.
In light of these issues, I advocate an evaluation of the similarities and incongruities
evident across the chronicles in toto, seeking to highlight the usage of key words and phrases and
thus to identify similarities and differences in how Andean conceptions of past and Inka societies
were rendered by Spanish quills. Such a method has been employed to study of claims of Inka
origins within the chronicles (Urton 1990: 9; see also Julien 2000; Pease 1995). This analysis is
further complicated by the fact that the chronicles were recorded in Spanish, and often employed
Spanish concepts with particular historical meanings. So, before turning to the themes within the
narratives, we must review the Spanish concepts that were applied to the Andean world.

Behetrias and Barbarians: An Andean Dark Ages?

In producing documents about the Andean world, the Spanish were often translating what
was told to them, or writing accounts of their own accord. Although the stories that they heard
63

about the Andean past must have varied, with remarkable regularity they all chose to frame
descriptions of a pre-Inka Andean Dark Ages by employing two particularly Iberian terms,
behetria and barbaro. 9 Whatever the Andean informants were voicing them, these were the
words that the Spanish felt best captured the meaning of their informants claims. By parsing the
particularities of these words meanings for the Spanish, we can get a better sense of what
Andean people were saying about the pre-Inka past. In order to examine the variable application
of these terms, and thus shed light on the political dimensions of Andean and Inka perceptions of
the pre-Inka past, this section provides a brief discussion of what behetria and barbaro meant to
the sixteenth and seventeenth century Spaniards who used them to frame their informants
remarks.
The behetria was an Iberian medieval form of institutionalized yet impermanent local
leadership that was prevalent throughout the eleventh to fourteenth centuries. 10 Ideally, the
behetria was a bottom-up form of political organization involving a quasi-democratic and
pluralistic 11 promotion of a chosen person to leadership, based on the consensual decision of
local landholders who constituted a corporate group, pueblo, or group of pueblos (Byrd Simpson

Barbarism, of course, has a history that runs much deeper than its Iberian usage in the 15th and 16th
Centuries (Pocock 2005).
10

For the purposes of this discussion, I refer to behetria as a unitary concept. Yet, there were two kinds of
behetria that differed according to how leadership was chosen. "Behetrias de Mar a Mar, which were common in
the Basque area, (see Means 1920; Braun 2007:36), were feudal-like socio-spatial constellations or clusters of
settlement, in which local people chose a leader among certain candidates. Many Spanish chroniclers refer to this
kind of behetria when using the term. This political institution is opposed to the "Behetria de Linaje, a more
oligarchic political form, in which small-scale landowners would choose among people from a noble or elite status
line. Two of the chroniclers, Cabello de Balboa and Las Casas, use this later definition when applying the term
behetria to the Andes.
11

In his 1599 political treatise offering advice on good government to the Spanish sovereign, Phillip III, the
Jesuit political theorist, Juan de Mariana, recognizes the behetria specifically the more democratic behetria de mar
a mar as an ideal localized and democratic institution (Braun 2007). For Mariana, the behetria was a counterexample to entrenched and corrupt monarchical authority (Braun 2007:37).

64

et al. 1956; H.B. Johnson 1970:133). The concept of behetria is thus rooted in a notion of
informal contract between ruled and ruler resulting in a kind of lay lordship (Davies
2007:150). Following the gradual dissolution of actual behetrias, and the formalization of
aristocratic rule, the term came to be more generally associated with political chaos and disorder
(Braun 2007:37; Estow 1995). Invoking this history, the Spanish chroniclers of the Andes
frequently use the term to refer to: (1) localized corporate organization led by a ruler chosen on
an ad hoc basis, (2) lack of centralized order, and/or (3) political confusion. The chroniclers
application of the term behetria reflects the use of a Spanish term to gloss an Andean way of
talking about an antecedent Andean form of social and political organization.
The term barbarian [barbarismo, barbaro] is employed in a similar way when the
chroniclers are describing what they heard about the pre-Inka Andean world. Following the
conquest of the New World, the term barbarian became an important category upon which
Spanish claims to moral legitimacy and sovereignty rested. 12 For example, within the famous
debates between Seplveda and Las Casas in Valladolid (1550-1551), the two antagonists sought
to define the term barbarian in order to define the proper conditions under which nonChristians were to be conquered and/or converted. 13 Among the chroniclers, the Jesuits Jos de
Acosta (2002[1590]: 345-346) and Bernab Cobo often write of barbarism as a worldhistorical developmental stage or epoch, thus classifying barbarians within a general
12

The indigenous Americans were argued to be natural slaves through a strict application of Aristotles
premise stating: By nature a slave and a barbarian are the same thing (see Lupher 2002:89,113).

13

Despite their political debate, common to both the Seplveda and Las Casas definition is the notion that
barbarism is an entrenched (if not) natural condition, even if it is a condition that can be changed. Thus, for the
Spanish, the term barbarian may refer to Seplvedas invocation of Aristotelian natural slaves, i.e. people who
must be ordered and ruled because they cannot do so themselves. On the other hand, for the Spanish, the term
barbarian may refer to Las Casas argument for educating the barbarians about Christianity, and thus converting
them (Lupher 2002:137).

65

developmental hierarchy of societies that is similar to both the ranked political categories
employed by Aristotle, 14 as well as the progressive savage-to-civilization schematic often used
by early anthropologists (e.g. Tylor 1891: 448). In short, when issued from a Spanish quill,
barbarian refers to political disorder and chaos. Instead of referring to historical political
contexts like behetrias, it often refers to a supposed natural condition of other people as they
were prior to the Inka imperial project (see below).
Defined according to these historical and general criteria, the Spanish used Iberian
referents behetria and barbarism to capture the meaning of what Andean people were saying
about pre-Inka and non-Inka others. Behetria is a Spanish gloss for an Andean description of
political disorder within a particular context or place. Other researchers have implied that
behetria was a Spanish way of describing how the past actually was, a word used to simply
render an actual pre-Inka past legible to an Iberian audience (Julien 2000: 300). I argue that the
term behetria is a Spanish gloss for how the pre-Inka past was claimed to be it reflects a
practice of legitimacy and claim to authority, rather than a representation of reality. Likewise, the
use of the term barbarian is a Spanish gloss for an Inka description of how pre-Inka people
were naturally or universally disordered. We can track constructions of Inka history by following
these terms throughout a selection of the chronicles (e.g. Acosta (2002[1590]; Arriaga
1968[1621]; Bandera 1968[1557]; Cabello de Balboa 1951[1586]; Cieza 1985[1554]; Cobo
1956[1653]; Espada 1965[1898]; Estete 1918[1535]; Guaman Poma 2005[1615]; Levillier 1940;

14

Similarly, Pablo Jos de Arriaga, a Jesuit missionary intent on constructing a guide for religious authorities
to recognize and destroy idolatrous indigenous practices, categorizes Andean groups through a dichotomy of
barbarian and political (Arriaga 1968[1621]: 19). In this way, employing Aristotlean categories that define
humans as political beings, Arriaga gauges some people to be less human than others. Cobo makes a similar move,
in distinguishing between the normal idolators and the straight-up savages who do not recognize any divine
authority at all.

66

Pealosa 1965[1570s]; Pizarro 1965[1571]; Polo de Ondegardo 1916[1571]; Sarmiento

2007[1572], 1965[1572]).
My survey of the chroniclers reveals repeated use of the terms behetria and
barbarism. 15 Below, I demonstrate and interpret how this remarkable consistency is linked to
descriptions of the pre-Inka world. Similarities across these descriptions cannot simply emerge
from a Spanish administrators intention to legitimate Iberian rule. Indeed, these descriptions
were documented across an extensive geography, over decades, through citation of various kinds
of informants, and by both indigenous and Spanish authors. For instance, indigenous informants
in Cuenca, Ecuador were relating the same story as similar informants in Xauxa or Cusco,
central Per, as well as Callao, southern Per. It appears as though the consistency in these
narratives reflects both the expression and internalization of Inka claims to authority, more than
the underlying political intentions, plagiarism, or source-dependency of the chroniclers. Indeed,
this consistency is remarkable given the spatial and temporal constraints, as well as the probable
wide range of linguistic variation throughout this region prior to the arrival of the Spanish
(Mannheim 1991). Thus, though Spanish political thought did provide a conceptual framework
for the description of Andean political forms, the Andean voices that are expressed through these
narratives were not simply responding to Spanish modes of inquisition, but rather agentively
(re)producing a vision of their world.
More particularly, in the chronicles, descriptions of the pre-Inka Andean world are often
preceded with phrases like they say [dicen que] or I heard that [o que]. These phrases
displace the burden of proof. They indicate that the information they are conveying was part of
15

By survey, I refer to an extensive reading of these texts, focusing on the identification and examination of
the instances in which the chronicles present a narrative of the pre-Inka past, and/or employ the terms behetria and
barbarism to describe pre-Inka societies.

67

discourses that were circulating throughout the Cusco area or the Andes during the initial process
of Spanish conquest and colonization. In this chapter, I focus on sources that cite their
informants in this way. Such statements reflect what Andean people were saying during the final
days of the Inka Empire, and therefore provide a glimpse of how Inka authority and legitimacy
were imagined.

Epochal History within Inka Narratives

Inka narratives often describe pre-Inka society as disordered and chaotic. Some of the
most striking examples of this theme of pre-Inka disorder are contained within a series of
interviews of former Inka elites and subjects that were conducted by the Spanish Viceroy
Francisco de Toledo between 1570 and 1572. 16 Staged within some of the most powerful and
influential regions of the Inka Empire 17 (e.g. Cusco and Xauxa), the interviews were conducted
on behalf former Spanish royalty in an effort to garner additional information about the
emergence, support and succession of pre-Inka and Inka authority figures, pre-Inka forms of

16

These interviews are examples of a visita, a Colonial means of gathering information. The visitas are
comparable to the accounts contained in other chronicles. The interviewees were both Inkas and people that the
Inkas had subjugated, including some of the indigenous groups from the Cusco area. It could be debated, then,
whether the context of the interviews, as well as the Spanish line of questioning, conditioned the responses. Indeed,
the Spanish questions would generally encourage a yes or no answer, thereby seeking to structure the responses
of the interviewees, and perhaps persuade the respondents to agree with the Spanish rendering of the Inkas (see
Sherbondy 1992: 52). Keeping this in mind, in this section, I concentrate on how the respondents spoke of the preInka past, an object of knowledge that may or may not have been affected by the structured interview process.
17

The interviews were conducted in Xauxa, an Inka regional center that the Spanish made their first capital
in Per. Interviews were also conducted in Guamanga, a former province of the Inka Empire, as well as a series of
tambos, or way stations, located throughout the empire. Toledo also interviewed former Inka elites and subjects
residing in the Yucay Valley, near Cusco, as well as members of social groups that claimed to have lived in Cusco
prior to the Inkas. For descriptions of the Toledan interviews, and their concern for the legitimacy of Inka rule, as
well as the calculation of tribute, see for example (Larson 1998; Stern 1993). For biographies of Francisco de
Toledo that also take into account his motivation for carrying out the interviews, see (Levillier 1935; Zimmerman
1938). For similar accounts detailing the acquisition and control of knowledge within a colonial institutional context,
see (Arnold 1997; Cohn 1996; Mitchell 1988).

68

governance, the history and deeds of Inka kings, as well as specific rituals of ancestor veneration
and descent. 18 For instance:

according to their fathers and ancestors, all of them say that, before the Inka
conquered and subjugated the kingdoms, there was none of this order, nor was
there a regular ruler to whom respect and tribute were given. 19 (Levillier 1940:
79) [my translation]

In several statements like this one, the Inka informants exhibit an epochal view of history. They
do so by stating that social disorder prevailed in the era before the Inkas. And, they claim that the
past was disorderly precisely because there were no permanent leaders. 20
Respondents from both the imperial provinces and the imperial capital at Cusco claim
that there were no regional rulers before the Inkas, only certain noble warriors who would be
chosen as temporary leaders [cinchecona] for the period in which a group was engaged in
warfare.

18

Specific questions and general lines of questioning changed according to context. For example, compare
the questions asked throughout different interviewing processes (Levillier 1940:15-16, 123-125).

19

antes quell dicho ynga conquistase y subjetase estos rreynos [sic] les dijeron los dichos sus padres e
antepasados e a cada uno dellos, que antes quel dicho topa ynga yupanqui conquistase estos reynos no auia la dicha
orden ni tenyan cacique ny seore a quien respetar ny tributar (Levillier 1940: 79)
20

Toledos second through eighth questions ask for a description of the scale of polities and political
institutions prior to Inka ascendancy, specifically inquiring into whether each pre-Inka town [referred to as behetra
or comunidad] was politically autonomous, whether and how rulers were instituted, and whether there was much
warfare between different towns (Levillier 1940:15-16).

69

before Pachakuti Inka and Topa Inka Yupanki, there was not this form of
government, there were only certain valiant captains that we called cincheconas.
[These cincheconas] led their people during wars and when the wars were over,
these captains were no longer respected; they no longer could rule or govern 21
(Levillier 1940: 30-31) [my translation]

With remarkable consistency the respondents characterize the past in this wayas an era
of incessant warfare in which the stronger prevailed, and in which every person followed his own
individual will, obeying no leadership save his/her own capricious inclination. 22 They
uniformly describe the pre-Inka world by speaking of what it lacked: peace, formal political
communities, and most importantly permanent or institutionalized leadership.
In describing the pre-Inka period, the responses refer to lawlessness a lack of
permanent order and a lack of systematic regulation. Impermanency of political office is listed as
an essential defining attribute of the pre-Inka others. The majority of the respondents state that
the cinchecona were temporary elected offices which were won on the strength of electees
personal characteristics, primarily their perceived capacity to get things done. For example, two
informants from Cusco (Levillier 1940: 69) clearly state that the cinchecona led during warfare
and then were divested of power afterward [despues de acabada la guerra le dexaban]. By
illustrating the ad hoc basis through which leaders were chosen, as well as impermanence of
their role, the informants depict the pre-Inka past as an unstable world of happenstance and

21

antes de los dichos pachacuti ynga y topa ynga yupanqui no auia la dicha manera de gouierno syno unos
capitanes valientes que se llamauan cincheconas los quales mandauan y gobernauan los naturales en las guerras que
unos tenian con otros e que acabadas las guerras eran los dichos capitanes como los otros yndios y no los
rrespetauan ny tenyan ningun mando ny seorio sobre los dichos naturales
22

There are numerous other statements similar to the one given above; see Levillier (1940:18, 22-24, 39, 53,
56, 59, 63, 66, 69, 72, 75, 83, 86, 90, 93, 100, 102, 106, 110, 116)

70

disorder that required systematic ordering and regulation. In this sense, these narratives
implicitly justify and legitimate Inka rule by suggesting that the Inkas ordered this chaotic
landscape through the creation of permanent leadership and formal institutions.
Indeed, many of the informants explicitly contrast their vision of a disordered and
unstable pre-Inka political society with its obverse: the well-ordered social machine that was put
in place by the Inkas.

They say that their fathers and ancestors told them this for certain, and that they
understood it well, that before the Inkas there were neither the leaders, the order,
or the law that they had after; there was only warfare between local people 23
(Levillier 1940: 79) [my translation and italics]

This diametric opposition is frequently phrased through reference to a link between

political leadership and social and geographic scale. That is, with little variation, the informants
refer to how the Inkas replaced the localized and indeterminate role of cinchecona, introducing
institutionalized authorities [curacas], who were linked to a larger regional system made up of
the rigidly quantified tributary social groupings [pachacas and guarangas] through which statemandated corve labor was assessed. 24 This theme, recounting how the Inkas brought the

23

dixeron que los dichos sus padres e antepasados dixeron a los dichos testigos por cossa muy cierta e
ansy lo tienen entendido que antes del dicho topa ynga yupangui no auia los dichos curcacas ny orden de gouierno
que agora ay y que como auia guerras entre los naturales

24

Citing extensive documentary evidence from the Colla region, Arkush (2005:130) argues that references to
cinchecona underscore how LIP authority was rooted in the practices and performances of warfare, particularly the
actions of select warrior chiefs. She notes how the documents refer to a shift from temporary cinche status to more
permanent leadership, the latter denoted through the title capac (see also Julien 2000: 23-50). Remarking upon the
ethnohistoric documentation and its correspondence with archaeologically documented settlement patterns, LeBlanc
(1981: 371) makes a very similar claim with regard to Wanka social and political leadership. Such a shift may have
also occurred in the pre-Inka Cusco area (see Chapters Four and Five). However, this section is concerned with how,
despite such references to temporary leadership and high status in the pre-Inka world, the main ideological thrust of
these discourses reflects an imagined landscape in which pre-Inka people were repeatedly cast as uncivilized and

71

innovation of permanent leadership and systematic regulation, is present in numerous other

Colonial documents, including a series of interviews that were conducted in the southern Andes
(Pealosa 1965[1570s]). 25
Other authors further illustrate this vision of pre-Inka society in describing a period of
incessant warfare that was destined to be ended through ordered regulation. Such narratives
depict how pre-Inka disorder was an endemic and pervasive, general problem. Again recording
what everybody knows about Inka history, Pedro Pizarro (1965[1571]: 180), one of the
conquistadors present throughout the initial conflict between the Spaniards and Inkas at
Cajamarca, wrote that he heard of how there was only disordered and wartorn local organization
(behetrias) before the Inkas subjugated and conquered the region.

In this land there were several Inka kings who ruled until the Spanish invaded.
These kings began to conquer the region around them, making themselves the
kings of this entire world. Before these kings, they all lived in local behetrias,
even though there were some lords who ruled over very small towns. And like
this, in the behetrias, they made war against one another 26 (Pizarro 1965[1571]:
180) [my translation]

disordered others. In the following chapters, I link the archaeological and documentary evidence in order to
elaborate on how LIP authorities were recognized and revered in the Northwest Cusco area.
25

Interviews were conducted among the Pacaxes group. The interviews report that the Pacaxes say [los
cuales dichos indios Pacaxes dijieron que] that their people originated in part from the lake at Chucuito and
another part from the Carangas. From these places, their ancestors left in order to populate the highest mountains
and live in behetrias. All of them were said to make war on one another. The arrival of the Inkas brought order
(Pealosa 1965[1570s]: 90).
26

En este rreyno ubo cinco senores Yngas hasta la hera que los espanoles entramos en ella, los quales
empezaron a ganar y sujetar esta tierra haziendose rreyes de toda ella, porque antes que estos senores la suxetasen,
hera todo behetrias, aunque auia algunos senores que tenian subjetos algunos pueblos pequenos cercanos a ellos, y
estos heran pocos; y asi en la behetrias trayan guerras unos con otros. (Pizarro 1965[1571]: 180).

72

Here, Pizarro clearly describes how he was told that the past was a time of political
disorder. He adds that, even though there were some local rulers who governed subjects and
small towns, there was incessant warfare between all of these behetrias.
Additional early chroniclers repeat this sort of description, including Miguel de Estete, 27
one of the soldiers who was with Francisco Pizarro during the Inka ruler Atawalpas capture and
subsequent execution in Cajamarca in 1532. Basing his observations on what was being said and
memorialized through song [cantares] 28 by Andean people, Estete wrote of Inkaized historical
visions of pre-Inka society, noting first the lack of institutionalized written history and then the
descriptions of an epoch of political disorder that were prevalent at the time: 29

27

Miguel de Estetes diary was included in Francisco de Xerez Verdadera Relacion de la Conquista del
Per, which was one of the first accounts of the Spanish incursion into Inka territory, published in Seville and
disseminated throughout Spain in 1534. After marching with Pizarro to Cusco, Estete returned to Spain where he
wrote a longer version of his experiences in Per, entitled Noticia del Per, which was used extensively by Prescott
to write his influential historical account of the meeting of Spaniards and Inkas, The Conquest of Per (Someda
2001:124). However, even though the same Miguel de Estete has been credited with the authorship of the Noticia
(Pease 1995:18-20), it is possible that a different person going by the name of Estete wrote the Noticia del Per;
hence the author of the second, longer chronicle is often referred to as the false Estete, even though the details of
the account have not been questioned (see Barrenechea 1986:117; Julien 2000:163).
28

On the cantares as an Inka medium of historical expression and representation, see (Cerrn-Palomino
1997; Julien 2000; Meneses 1992; Niles 1999; Schechter 1979; Tomlinson 2007). In his early dictionary of the Inka
language, Gonzlez Holgun (1989[1608]:446) describes cantares de triumpho, termed Haylliy in Quechua. Such
cantares were sung when first breaking the soil of agricultural fields. Bauer (1996) describes how this first tilling
was a ritualized rendering of Inka mythic-history, in which the Inka elite was recast as the conqueror of both people
and land. The indigenous chronicler Guaman Poma de Ayala mentions how cantares accompanied agricultural work
and mining (see MacCormack 2007:169). Tomlinson (2007:162) cites Guaman Pomas passages describing how the
Inka would sing along with llamas, rivers, and the Sun, thereby demonstrating how song was not only a way of
legitimating history, but also a way of legitimating the power of the elite to directly commune with the natural
and/or preternatural world. Moreover, Cobo (1990[1653]:13) describes how in one version of Andean origin myth, it
is said that the creator-god formed all of the nations from clay, and thence distinguished them by giving each of
them, among other things, special songs to sing. All of the above references emphasize how songs [cantares] were
significant media of representation in the Inka world that were linked to claims about history, authority, and identity.
29

These performed histories were essential to how imperial Cusco was imagined by its subjects (Julien
2000). For instance, it is noteworthy that Estetes account of historical representation directly follows a discussion of
embodied history, i.e. the location and significance of mummified rulers, and is followed by a discussion of Cusco
as the center [cabecera] of all other regions. In the ordering of these passages, Estete demonstrates how the
historical representations of the body politic and the political bodies of the rulers were linked components of
imperial Cuscos ideology of superiority and centrism.

73

 and even though they did not have writing, with certain cords and knots they
recorded the memory of the past. Yet the primary means of remembering was
through the songs that they have, like we have too. Their songs were about battles
and events that occurred in ancient times [they say] before the land was
subjugated, in every town and province there was a prince. This prince did not
recognize the superiority of anybody, and simply ruled and governed his land,
defending it if another person wanted to take it. The Indians say that the first
person to conquer the land like this, and therefore take multiple provinces, was a
man named Gualnava. They say that he was a very brave and big warrior. They
say that he established the city of Cusco, rebuilding it and making it into a
fortress, wherein he subjugated a large part of the land and its people. 30 (Estete
1918[1535]: 330) [my translation]

Having witnessed these cantares, Estete provides a unique glimpse of how the repetition
and dissemination of an Inka version of history was essential to the regeneration of this vision of
a disorderly pre-Inka epoch. Two factors contribute to this image. First, it is noted in the
narrative that contemporary Cusco is different from the previous age inasmuch as its people
subjugated other people and provinces. It is also stated that the people of Cusco (the Inkas) do
not just rule their own territory, but also the territory of others. Thus, the political centrality and
dominance of Cusco is represented as a break from a former to a current way of being that is
brought about by the Inkas subjugation of others. Second, the narrative provides a clue about the
making of Cusco its leaders were the bravest and best warriors, and thus they were able to
subdue other war chiefs and subjugate their people, putting an end to this previous era. In this
30

y aunque no tienen escrituras, por ciertas cuerdas y nudos recuerdan a la memoria las cosas pasadas
aunque lo mas principal de acordarse es por los cantares que tienen, como aca tenemos, de cosas y batallas pasadas
antiguamente, que si faltase la escritura, por aquellos cantares tendriamos memoria de los pasados que hicieron
hazanas senaladas antes que la tierra se sojuzgase, en cada pueblo y provincia habia un seor, y este no reconocia
superioridad a nadie, mas de regir y gobernar su tierra y defenderla si alguno se la queria tomar. el primero que
dicen los indios que sujeto la tierra asi, e hizo algunas provincias que le tuviesen por seor, fue uno llamado
Gualnava; este dicen que fue muy valeroso y gran hombre de guerra; este fundo la ciudad del Cuzco; digo la
reedifico e hizo aquella fortaleza, de donde sojuzgo mucha parte de la tierra (emphasis added).

74

second sense, the narrative describes how the Inkas were able to subjugate other people who, by
implication, were everywhere naturally disordered and inferior. Such narrative tropes are not so
surprising when considered from our contemporary vantage point, and our modern skepticism of
claims to imperial grandeur. However, when performed throughout a process of dramatic
historical transformation and Inka imperial expansion, such tropes would have surely constituted
and reinforced a notion that the Inkas had successfully wrought a new age and an unprecedented
social order from the chaos of the past.
These narratives discursively constitute this epochal view of history by describing the
pre-Inka past as an epoch of disorder and warfare. They often explain how pre-Inka people were
engaged in incessant conflicts with one another simply because they were disordered and did not
adhere to any general system of regulation. Pedro Cieza de Len, an early chronicler with an
extraordinary eye for detail, dichotomizes pre-Inka and Inka people and periods in a manner
remarkably similar to the other sources, adding that there was constant regional warfare prior to
the Inkas. For instance, in the passage that opens this chapter, Cieza 31 notes how everyone attests
to the disorder that preceded the Inkas:

All of these groups tell of how, in the ancient times, many years before there
were Inkas, there were lands that were very well populated before the
florescence of the Inkas, the people of this epoch 32 [reino] did not have rulers or
31

Ciezas descriptions reflect both what was said about the pre-Inka world, as well as the forms of non-Inka
political organization that he observed, throughout his fifteen years of travel and soldiering in the New World. Thus,
in adherence with the Inka ideology, observations about the non-Inka world were converted to historical statements
about the pre-Inka world.

32

Although Cieza is referring to the Wankas, an ethnic group residing near Xauxa, in the beginning of this
statement, his use of the word reino refers to a general political way of being throughout the Andes, and not to a
kingdom of the Wankas, as one meaning of this word implies. Cieza uses reino to refer to a time period in other
contexts as well.

75

sovereigns. We know that before now, and we know this because everybody
knows this and confirms it, that there were behetrias that did not have the order,
reason, or justice like they have had after [Inka rule]. 33 (Cieza 1985[1554]: 31,
Ch. 3) [my translation and italics]

The excerpt explicitly demonstrates a fundamental binary, defining Inka civilization

through reference to the disordered past that it subsumed (see also Acuto 2005; McEwan and van
de Guchte 1992). Cieza cites his source of such information his incessant questioning of local
people as the basis for this dramatic description of these behetrias. The physical remains of
pre-Inka towns are often the basis of these characterizations. Crowning the summits and
precipitous faces of Andean peaks, are the imposing remains of numerous fortresses and
aggregated pre-Inka hilltop settlements 34 (pukaras). Indeed, the following quote from Cieza
further reveals how his informants, speaking directly after the Spanish conquest, portrayed the
fortresses of the pre-Inka past: 35

Many times, I asked the local people [moradores] of these provinces what they
knew about these lands before the Inkas came to rule them. About this, they said
[dicen que] that everyone lived in disorder, and that many people walked around
naked, doing savage things, living without houses, sometimes living in caves or
big crags or rocks. Others built large fortresses on top of mountains, which they
33

Cuentan esta naciones que antiguamente, muchos anos antes que hobiese Incas estando las tierras muy
pobladas de gentes las gentes deste reino antes que floresciesen los Incas ni del se hiciesen senores soberanos por
el, antes sabemos, por lo que todos sabemos y afirman, que eran behetrias sin tener la orden y gran razon y justicia
que despues tuvieron. (my italics)
34

In referring to the pre-Inka period, researchers often cite how populations were concentrated in these
defensible or fortified locations, assuming that the fortresses are signatures of actual interregional warfare and
thereby replicating the ideological claims of the Inkas (see Chapter Three).

35

Researchers have cited this passage as literal evidence of pre-Inka warfare and small-scale raiding (see
Arkush 2005:131; Parsons et al. 2000: 50). Although such raiding may have occurred, the hyperbolic aspects of this
passage express an Inka ideology of the past.

76

call pukaras. From these heights, where they spoke in strange tongues, they
would go out to battle. Everyone would fight each other for control of the
agricultural fields and other things. Many people were killed. Much plunder was
taken, including the women of their neighbors. Triumphantly, the war groups
would return to the mountaintops, where they had their fortresses, and make
sacrifices to the gods that they adore, spreading large amounts of human and
animal blood all over the rocks and the idols. All of them were behetrias without
order, because they say they did not have leaders except for the war captains with
whom they would march to war. It is true that some of them wore clothes, yet
they were very small clothes and not like what is worn now. They did wear the
headbands that they still put on their heads in order to differentiate people of one
group from another. 36 (Cieza 1984[1554]: 33, Ch.4) [my translation and italics]

Whether or not Ciezas descriptions accurately depict the organizational contours of the
pre-Inka period, they offer insight into how discourses about the pre-Inka period circulated
throughout the Andes. Such discourses bolstered Inka claims to uniqueness and authority
through the repetition of a narrative about the past specifically, the disordered and chaotic
others who existed in a time before the Inkas. 37 Besides offering a tantalizing glimpse of how
social difference was rendered in the Andean past (headbands) 38, this passage reveals how

36

Muchas veces pregunte a los moradores destas provincias lo que sabian que en ellas hobo antes que los
Incas los senoreasen, y sobre esto dicen que todos vivian desordenadamente y que muchos andaban desnudos,
hechos salvages, sin tener casas ni otras moradas que cuevas de las muchas que vemos haberen riscos grandes y
penascos, de donde salian a comer de lo que hallaban por los campos. Otros hacian en los cerros castillos que llaman
pucaras, desde donde, ahullando con lenguas estranas, salian a pelear unos con otros sobre las tierras de labor o por
otras causas y se mataban muchos dellos, tomando el despojo que hallaban y las mugeres de los vencidos; con todo
lo cual iban trunfando a lo alto de los cerros donde tenian sus castillos y alli hacian sus sacrificios a los dioses en
quien ellos adoraban, derramando delante de las piedras e idolos mucha sangre humana y de corderos. Todos ellos
eran behetrias sin orden, porque cierto dicen no tenian senores ni mas que capitanes con los cuales salian a las
guerras: si algunos andaban vestidos, eran las ropas pequenas y no como agora las tienen. Los llautos y cordones que
se ponen en las cabezas para ser conocidos unos entre otros, dicen que los tenian como agora los usan.

37

Antonio de Herrera uses this same description in a chronicle that was written slightly after Cieza (16011615; see the Herrera passage in Levillier 1940:217).

38

Numerous sources indicate that headdress provided a principal means of social identification in the Inkaic
Andes. For instance, the Collas of the Lake Titicaca region wore a high and brimless hat, which tapered as it rose,
thus covering their heads which were shaped in the same manner (Julien 1983: 43; see illustration on the man seated
in Guaman Poma 2005[1615]: 220).

77

some Andean people perceived pre-Inka warfare at the time of Spanish conquest. Indeed, Cieza
relates that war parties would leave fortified strongholds to engage their enemy, and return later
and propitiate their gods. Such information evokes some sense of local organization. Yet, by
emphasizing that all of these people were without order, the passage underscores how such
discourses described a pre-Inka world riddled by mutually destructive warfare. Thus, although
the narrative explains how pre-Inka society was defined by the regularity of certain localized
ritual practices, it concentrates on how this period lacked the regulation and coordination of an
ordered and well-governed society. By describing pre-Inka people as barbarous and bellicose,
this narrative implicitly defines the Inka period as organized and peaceful. Importantly, the space
for Inka intervention is once again not only opened, but explained as an imperative.
Moreover, illustrating how such themes may have become embedded within the
consciousness 39 of people from the imperial provinces, Guaman Poma de Ayala, an indigenous
chronicler 40 from the Hunuco area in the central Andes, provides a comparable account in
which the Inka epoch is defined in opposition to a pre-Inka age of disorder. In his lengthy letter
of protest to the Spanish sovereign, Guaman Poma describes how Inka rule throughout the Andes
was directly preceded by an earlier age of humanity that he terms Aukapacha, the time of

39

This is not to say that the consciousness of people within the imperial periphery was in line with that of the
Inkas, or that Guaman Poma was not critical of the Inkas. Indeed, Guaman Pomas rendering of the Inka origin
myth, for example, was intended to cast the Inkas as natural tyrants. Perhaps Guaman Poma wrote these passages in
defense of his peoples conquest. However, Guaman Pomas rendering of Inka history presents the same kind of
epochal history that underlies the other narratives.

40

Interestingly, the three indigenous chronicles represent Inka governance as a superhuman mission to bring
order to a chaotic world. Both Garcilaso and Santa Cruz Pachakuti contend that this was a divine mission, while
Guaman Poma claims that it is inspired by the devil.

78

warfare. 41 The fourth age of humanity, this period was populated by aukapacharuna, fierce
and bellicose warriors who built fortresses [pukaras], from which they were engaged in constant
warfare. Guaman Poma underscores the lawlessness and disorder of this prior age, illustrating
how the pre-Inka period was drenched in the blood of warriors who would engage in constant
warfare by taking others women and children, cemeteries and fields, and robbing the most
mundane items from others houses (Guaman Poma 2005[1615]: 53).
Here, an explicit periodization is again rendered. This periodization relegates barbarous
humans to a prior age, thus differentiating these past people from the civilized Inka present.
This is an understanding of temporality that describes a fundamental change in the way things
were, to the extent that such changes are described as changes that affected the entire world. It is
surprising, then, that numerous researchers attempt to insert Guaman Pomas explicit epochalism
within a Western understanding of quantified and linear, Gregorian calendar history, thereby
claiming that the fourth age of humanity is equivalent to what archaeologists call the Late
Intermediate Period (see Chapter Three).
Several other chroniclers provide descriptions of how barbarism and behetria
characterized the Andean world before Inka ascendancy, all of them repeating the criteria that
are included in the aforementioned passages. For example, the licenciado Juan de Polo de
Ondegardo (1916[1571]: 117), a Spanish administrator in Cusco during the latter half of the
sixteenth-century, noted that there was neither law nor order before the Inkas subjugated and
conquered all of the land, indicating that each person was in charge of their own household.
Writing in 1557, Damin de la Bandera repeats the familiar refrain about pre-Inka political
41

Guaman Pomas account of Andean ages was highly influenced by the Chronografa Almanac, written by
Hieronymo de Chavs and published in 1548, which contains a description of the six fundamental Christian ages,
corresponding to the six days of creation (see Flemming 1994).

79

disorder:

Before the Inkas conquered the region there was neither order nor
government, like there was after they Inkas began to rule. There were
leaders in each valley, and they were always fighting with their neighbors;
was no communication among the people within a region because they
enemies. 42 (Bandera 1968[1557]: 494) [my translation]

good
local
there
were

Likewise, Miguel Cabello de Balboa (1951[1586]: 258) offers a description of pre-Inka

local organization and balkanization, noting that each person worshipped their own particular
deity before the Inkas began to rule, thus signifying that this period was characterized by
behetrias and confusion.
Other authors offer similar accounts of how the Inkas would claim that a distinct period
of localized rule and barbarism preceded their rule. One of the most famous is Pedro Sarmiento
de Gamboa, who was commissioned by the viceroy to write the history of the Inkas. Sarmiento
quantified the duration of pre-Inka chaos when he wrote that the temporary leadership of
cinchecona continued for the 3519 years that passed between the universal Flood and the onset
of the Inka period (2007[1572]: 56-57 [Ch. 8]). Sarmiento adds that the pre-Inka Andes were
characterized by behetrias, meaning an era in which people coexisted in a natural state of relative
liberty, 43 and that the Inkas initiated a period of general warfare and disorder (2007[1572]: 129-

42

Antes que los Ingas conquistasen este reino no habia tanta pulicia ni buen gobierno como hubo despues
que senorearon los Ingas. Habia curaca, senor principal de un valle, y ten sus curacas y mandones, todos subjetos al
mayor; tenian siempre guerra con sus comarcanos y no habia comunicacion con los comarcanos marcanos a causa
de estar enemistados. (Bandera 1968[1557]: 494)

43

Attempting to justify Spanish conquest, Sarmiento links the natural state [naturaleza] of pre-Inka people to

80

130 [Ch. 37]). Even though he employed a somewhat objective method of interviewing and
crosschecking informants, Sarmientos claims are linked to his well-known inclination to
represent the Inkas as tyrants in an effort to justify Spanish imperial governance and the strict
regulations instituted by Viceroy Toledo (Julien 2000). Yet despite the Toledan twist that
Sarmiento adds, these references bear a striking resemblance to the other examples. Thus, it
seems that the discourses and performances about the pre-Inka social condition had become
somewhat entrenched in the consciousness of Andean people of various stations, residing in
various regions, and more or less, sharing only the coming of the Inkas as an historical referent.
The preceding descriptions of the pre-Inka world typically cite how such deficiencies in
political order and rulership are linked to local organization and warfare. Several of these
narratives explain that the root of past problems is a natural disposition found among the preInka people, a deficiency that can most clearly be glossed as a state of immorality. Perhaps one
of the most remarkable examples of such turpitude comes from the Toledan interviews, in which
the respondents agreed that indigenous pre-Inka Andeans were inherently lazy and lost (ociosos
y perdidos) in the previous time period, that is, before they were forced to work by the Inkas:

all of them said that, they knew how before the Inkas, the natural disposition
of the people in this area was idle, good-for-nothing, and lazy. The Inkas
established order among the people and made them work because they understood
that otherwise the people would do nothing 44 (Levillier 1940: 179) [my
their home territory [patria], contending that: (1) the natural state of Andean people is disorder, and (2) the Inka
state, which ostensibly introduced order, tyrannically usurped local peoples sovereignty and self-rule, and therefore
must be supplanted by a more rational and righteous government that could instantiate order under just pretenses.
44

dijeron cada uno por si y todos juntos, que conociendo Guayna Capac Inga y Topa Inga Yupangui, su
padre, que la inclinacin de los naturales de estos reinos era estarse holgazanes y ociosos, dieron orden como
hubiese entre ellos personas que los hiciesen trabajar, porque entendan su inclinacin que era estarse ociosos como

81

translation].

Although it is difficult to see past problems with translation and bias, it is noteworthy that
the interviewees repeated that this was indeed the natural condition (condicin y naturaleza) of
the indigenous people prior to the establishment of order by the Inkas (e.g. Levillier 1940: 130,
139, 147, 156, 171).
In several other references, pre-Inka moral deficiency is often specifically phrased
through references to how other people of ancient times: (1) did not wear clothes, (2) ate human
flesh, (3) practiced sodomy, (4) did not typically live in towns, and were therefore scattered
throughout the mountains, living in caves, crags, and trees, (5) lived in fortified towns
specifically because they were engaged in constant warfare, and (6) were lazy, lacking the work
ethic of the Inkas. Such aspersions are common in Spanish Colonial descriptions of New World
inhabitants. But, contrasting the typical Spanish equation of all indigenous peoples with naked
savages, in the Inka chronicles these attributes are only applied to pre-Inka and non-Inka people,
thus intimating that these descriptions are in fact reflections of an Inka ideology that rendered the
past barbarous and the present divine.
Furthermore, this temporal periodization is also geographical. Indeed, in these narratives
the barbarous others exist in the pre-Inka past. But they also are the people living beyond the
Inka world.
An early document from the Lake Titicaca area states that the local people lived in
behetrias, and all waged war against one another, prior to the conquest of this area by Tupa Inka

dicho tienen, y que ellos lo vieron as en sus tiempos y dems de lo haber visto, lo oyeron decir a sus padres y
pasados (Levillier 1940: 179).

82

Yupanki (Pealosa 1965[1570s]: 337). A similar claim was made in Cuenca, located in modern
Ecuador, where during a series of routine Spanish interrogations, the older people stated [dicen
los viejos] that prior to the Inkas there were no rulers and everyone was fighting one another
(Espada 1965[1898]: 272). When referring to Wayna Qhapaqs, the eleventh Inka ruler, journey
to and conquest in the southern boundary of the Inka Empire, Cieza de Len (1985[1554]: 192)
employs a typical trope about the non-Inka people that were encountered by Inka generals,
portraying them as savages walking around naked without embarrassment, while chewing on
human flesh.
Moreover, following a discussion of how Cusco is the heart of the Inka imperial body,
Bernab Cobo (1956[1653]: 186) describes how a barbarous other lurks in the space beyond
Inka territorial claims:

there is no doubt that there are few people that live in these mountains. Such
people are really barbarous, belong to different tribes, and are divided into
behetrias. They lack the industry and discipline of the Inka subjects. 45

Cobo discusses how the Inkas did not choose to rule directly over the eastern Andes,
since they were restrained by the wilderness [fragosidad] and [aspereza] of this region, as well
as the extremely barbarous people that lived there 46 (1956[1653]: 107). Moreover, Cobo claims

45

dado que los habitadores de aquellas sierras y montanas son pocos en numeros, y estos muy barbaros,
de naciones diferentes, divididos en cortas behetrias y sin la industria y disciplina que los vasallos de los Incas.
(Cobo Book 12, Chapter 22).

46

Other chroniclers give similar descriptions. For example, Cieza (1985[1554] Vol.1: 172) writes of the
savagery, bellicosity, and cannibalism of people residing outside of the Inka boundaries. His writing most likely

83

that the disordered and non-Inka behetrias hindered other people from forming confederations,
which would have been necessary for them to resist Inka expansionism (Cobo 1956[1653]: 108).
Although these statements certainly include some Spanish bias, they also reflect the
continued circulation of a larger Inka claim to authority that was rooted in the perceived
difference an Inka world and an other world. In these examples, descriptions of non-Inkas
share certain structural similarities with what was said about the pre-Inka period, thus illustrating
how people from other spaces were regarded as categorically equivalent to people from other
times. By describing both the pre-Inka period and non-Inka world as barbarous, these accounts
support an Inka claim to legitimacy through the depiction of a sharply epochal history made up
of earlier-uncivilized and later-civilized societies. By producing such an epochal history, the
Inkas claimed a right to rule is based in their capacity to order and cultivate the pre-Inka or nonInka world. To illustrate this, we must turn from the narratives of pre-Inka disorder to a narrative
of Inka ordering.

From Disorder to Order

Since Cusco was cast as the exemplary center of an idealized and ordered Inka vision of
the world, it is not surprising that a Cusqueo chronicler most eloquently made arguments about
the necessity of Inka ordering. Born in Cusco of Inka and Spanish nobility in 1539, Garcilaso
Inka de la Vega provides a similar account of pre-Inka barbarism and behetrias. His account is a
provocative glimpse of how the Inkas instituted and instantiated an ordered model of society

reflects discourses and imaginaries about these other landscapes.

84

grounded in an ideal landscape that is, an ordered conceptualization of space. 47 Extolling the
Inka expansion in his typical eulogistic style, Garcilaso repeatedly notes that before Inka
ascendancy, there was an era of generalized barbarism, a protracted period in which people lived
in disordered towns. For instance, perhaps reflecting both Inka and Spanish ideals of town
planning, Garcilaso explicitly states how, if a society is to be governed correctly, towns must
adhere to an ordered plan. Garcilaso tells that Inka socio-spatial organization met this standard,
contrasting the Inka ideal of order with a pre-Inka period characterized by towns lacking order:

In the manner of their residences and towns, these people lived in the same kind
of barbarity as can be found in their sacrifices and gods. The more developed
people lived in larger towns. But these towns lacked plazas. They did not have
ordered streets, nor did they have houses. These people lived like a gathering of
beasts 48 (Garcilaso 1985[1605]: 24 [Bk.1, Ch.7]). [my translation]

Garcilaso complements this description of disordered towns with a lengthy rendering of a

pre-Inka and non-Inka disordered life characterized by inhumane, barbarous and brutish
47

Although lauded as the forebear of a rich mestizo literary tradition, Garcilaso is also oftentimes criticized
as being one of the least accurate of the Spanish chroniclers. Such judgment is typically passed on Garcilaso
because, although he was born in 1539 in Cusco of Spanish and Inka nobility, he made a permanent move to Spain
in 1560, decades later penning his Comentarios Reales de los Incas, an extensive eulogy for Inka social
organization. Questions regarding the veracity of Garcilasos work began in the eighteenth century and have
continued to this day. Critics accuse Garcilaso of constructing falsities or plagiarizing, and/or boldly state that
historians should never take his work seriously (for a full review of some criticisms, see Barrenechea 1986:403-406;
see also Someda 2001:62-66). Notably, Julien (2000:60) states that Garcilaso should be read with care. Yet, it is
ironic then that, since the Spanish conquest, Garcilasos writing has greatly contributed to, if not conditioned, what
has been taught about Inka history within the Cusco area (Brading 1991:491; Julien 2000:5). This striking
assessment was first made by Manuel Moscoso y Peralta, the eighteenth century mayor of Cusco, when referring to
how local knowledge of and teaching about the Inkas had perhaps influenced the failed indigenous rebellion led by
Topa Amaru II in the latter half of that century (Moscoso, in Valcrcel 1983:276-277; cited in Julien 2000: 5). In
this light, a reading of Garcilaso is truly important due to the impact that his writing has had upon Andean historical
consciousness, especially within the Colonial period.

48

En la manera de sus habitaciones y pueblos tenan aquellos gentiles la misma barbariedad que en dud
dioses y sacrificios. Los ms politicos tenan sus pueblos poblados sin plaza ni orden de calles ni de casas sino como
un recogedero de bestias (Garcilaso 1985[1605]: 24 [Bk.1, Ch.7]).

85

everyday practices. Such descriptions of the pre-Inka past pivot on a description of ordering and
improvement, depicting an Inka method to convert the barbarians by instituting civic and spatial
order through place-making and social transformation.
For instance, while describing the conquests of Tupa Inka Yupanki in the province of
Huancapampa, Garcilaso notes how the local people were scattered across the land, in barbarous
groups (naciones barbaras) living like beasts without a leader, and constantly making war
with one another like people of a behetria [como gente de behetria] (Garcilaso 1965[1605]:
329 [Bk.8, Ch.3]). He adds that the people walked around naked, repeating a familiar trope
among the chroniclers about how a deficient moral character is tied to the natural inferiority of
the pre-Inka people. Garcilaso concludes numerous descriptions of this type by explaining how
the Inka 49 brought the light of civilization to such barbarians by providing masters who could
teach other people how to make towns, work the land, make clothes, and open irrigation canals
(Garcilaso 1985[1605]: 329 [Bk.8, Ch.3], 382-383 [Bk. 9, Ch.8]).
These narratives produce an imagined history, a retelling of dynamic processes of
alliance and contestation, in which the Inkas converted others simply by directing a process of
spatial transformation. That is to say that spatial transformation, including the destruction of old
spaces and the making of new ones, was important to an Inka idea of order and rule, even though
there may have been more to the process of conversion. Garcilaso notes how the building of
ordered towns with plazas and the production of canals were essential to the Inka conversion of a
population and their land. Such acts of construction were perceived as critical to the
transformation of others. In addition, he notes how the subjugated people would participate in
49

When referring to the Inka, and their civilizing mission, Garcilaso and other chroniclers are typically
referring to the later imperial Inkas, like Topa Inka Yupanki and Wayna Qhapaq (see below).

86

the process by building a temple of the Sun, while throwing their local gods and objects to the
ground. Although Garcilasos descriptions are not accurate historical depictions, archaeological
instances of such Inka practices of spatial transformation and place conversion support his
narrative of the conversion of land and people (below, and see Chapters Four and Five). 50
Constantly reiterating this civilizing narrative of Inka expansion, Garcilaso reports 51 that
the pre-Inka period was a time of ignorance and bad government, a diseased and disordered
epoch that was cured through the introduction and indoctrination of Inka governance. Providing
a glimpse of how the Inka nobility perceived the organization of space as tantamount to the
ordering of society, he presents the reader with a rendering of pre-Inka society in which value
judgments about the character of people (barbarians), as well as politics (warfare, chaos) are
expressed. In short, such descriptions exemplify how a binary of us and them was ultimately
linked to a narrative in which us (the Inkas) were specifically charged with civilizing and
ordering them (others).

History: Incorporating the Pre-Inka Other is Making Inka Order

All of the above narrative themes demonstrate how Inka claims to natural superiority
were supported by a particular vision of a past epoch that was fragmented and fraught with social
50

That is, Garcilaso may be describing a process that the Inkas thought to be necessary, whether it occurred
or not. Chapters to follow describe how the process of spatial production and transformation affected important preInka places like Wata.

51

Since he was schooled in the Cusco area shortly after the Spanish conquest, and was the great-grandson of
the last legitimate Inka ruler (Huayna Capac) that was raised by both Inka and Spanish nobility, his statements do
offer insight into how Inkas living in Cusco thought of and discursively reproduced an image of pre-Inka society. In
other words, it is plausible that Garcilasos account reflects what Inka elites in Cusco said about the pre-Inka period
(see Bauer 2004:19-20). In this sense, Garcilasos description may be a thoroughly Inka-influenced description of
local organization prior to the imperial period, just as much as it may reflect the prevailing European opinion that
geometric civic ordering is essential to the attainment of perfect rationality and civilization, and part of a universal
teleology.

87

disorder. A vision of the past was also a vision of other people. A prior way of being was
contrasted with an Inka way of being. The Inkas perceived other people as backwards or
caught in the past. These statements again expose an epochal notion of history in which all things
pre-Inka are equated with a localized legacy of brutality and barbarism, while all things Inka are
associated with an idealized vision of a regionally ordered society.
But, although these others could never become Inka, they could be incorporated into an
Inka social order. Zuidema (1964) and then Urton (1990:8-9) note how the historical trajectory
that was laid out in the chronicles is linked to the structural make-up of the Inka state,
particularly Cusco itself. More specifically, they claim that the different statuses throughout the
Cusco region corresponded to different groups that occupied different roles within the Inka
mytho-histories. In both narrative and practice, this region was history for the Inkas. Similarly, in
an innovative and insightful article, Gose (1996) argues that the past is a lower moiety,
meaning that, within their imperial hierarchy, the Inkas labeled other people as historically and
socially distinct. In this sense, Gose (1996:405) argues, when the denizens of Upper Cusco
looked down the hillside into Lower Cusco, they were also looking back as we would say in
time. The past was thus historical, but also locatable. Other places were perceived as akin to
past places. This relationship between history and space is best exemplified by status
categories within the Inka social order.
The Inka narrative of a civilizing mission was produced through reference to an external
and prehistoric other that must be subsumed into the Inka system. Once subsumed, these external
others were recast in the roles within the Inka hierarchy, through the making and instantiation of
status divisions. The hierarchy distinguished people based on their perceived geographical and

88

genealogical distance from the Inka ruler in Cusco. 52 Greater geographical distance from Cusco
meant greater genealogical distance from the Inka, and thus lesser status. In this way,
conceptualizations of Inka order were infused with a politics of blood and soil that explicitly
linked social kin relations to spatial positions on the land (Bauer 2004).
In this order of kin relations, a high elite class the Inkas of Royal Blood was
distinguished from other original inhabitants of the Cusco area. Several ethnohistorical sources
state that, throughout the Cusco area, only those people claiming or exhibiting their direct
affiliation with the founding Inka ancestor could occupy high status positions (Betanzos
1996[1551]; Garcilaso de la Vega 1965[1609]: 56-7; Guaman Poma de Ayala 1980[1615]: 66).
Other people were accorded some of the rights and privileges of the Inkas of Royal Blood, yet
they were classified as lower class Inkas by Privilege.
The Inka by Privilege category meant that a social group was part of the Inka hierarchical
order, yet subordinate to the absolutely exclusive social category of Inkas of Royal Blood. It also
meant that members of that group could display some of the signs of nobility, and partake in
some of the activities that were otherwise allowed only for the Inkas. The Spanish chronicler
Juan de Betanzos states that the Inka by Privilege title was formalized through the union of local
lords with the full-blood sisters of the Inka (1996[1551]; see also Bauer 1992, 2004; Urton 1990:
28; Zuidema 1990). A result of such articulation, people bearing this title often served as a
mediating link between the royal Inka nobility in Cusco area and local groups throughout the
region. Although these social groups remained within spatially dispersed settlements, they were

52

Bauer (2004) argues that Inka social distinctions were phrased through reference to geographical distance
from Cusco, meaning that a greater distance from Cusco corresponds to a lesser status. Yet it is perhaps better stated
that lower status Inkas-by-privilege occupy the area considered to be Cusco, i.e. the central city and its surrounding
region.

89

socially recast and redefined as particular aspects of the unified, yet hierarchical and socially
differentiated, Inka polity (Zuidema 1983a, 1989b).
Guaman Poma makes two interesting points about the Inkas by Privilege (see Bauer
2004). First, Guaman Poma clarifies that, even though their pierced ears may identify them as
Inka, not all Inkas were considered to be perfect, or recognized as divine. Pierced ears with large
earspools were Inka signs of nobility (Zuidema 1990:13). Garcilaso states that Manco Capac (the
first Inka ruler) gave certain local people such Inka privileges, including the right to wear
particular clothes, cut their hair short, and wear earspools. The local people had to have smaller
earspools than those worn by the Inkas. These examples illustrate how the conversion of others
was not a process of making people into Inkas, but rather a process of incorporation by way of
making other people not quite Inka. Indeed, much like the animals of Orwells classic farm,
there were some Inkas who were less Inka than others i.e. the uaccha (poor Inkas, or Inkas by
Privilege). Similarly, Garcilaso implies that the Inkas of privilege were genealogical outsiders
that were organized into villages by the first Inka ruler. Citing how this original genealogical
distance was rendered as geographical distance, Bauer (2004: 17) demonstrates how the
hierarchical social and spatial organization of the Cusco area adhered to such a mythologized
history, casting Cusco as the center and dwelling place of the original Inkas, and recasting the
recently incorporated others as distant relatives.
The Inkas of Royal Blood thus represented a center in both space and time. By depicting
how representatives of these other social groups were inferior to the Inka even when they
accompanied the original Inka ruler, this Inka narrative worked by claiming that there has been a
hierarchical social and spatial, generational and geographical relation between the Inkas and
others, since time immemorial (see Bauer 1996). In short, the present (Inka) social order, and the
90

Inkas claim to absolute social difference and authority, was naturalized.

Thus, Inka historicity presupposes a year one it presupposes that the establishment of
Inka order is the end of a pre-civilized past and the beginning of actual history and human
civilization. Such a political project is not unique. We may recall the French Revolutions notion
of a year one, or Pol Pots declaration of a year zero. In this case, just as the coming of the Inkas
is the common experience of the informants voiced in these narratives, history, as such, begins
with the Inkas. And so, certain places are perceived as Inka, others as pre-Inka. Those considered
pre-Inka were barbarous, and thus, before history. Moreover, those pre-Inka inhabitants of the
Cusco area were thus recast as special kinds of people Inkas by Privilege precisely because
they needed to be imported into this claim that Cusco is the fount of space and history.
Thus, the narratives do not emplace the spatial and social hierarchy of the Cusco region
within mythic time, rather they cast Inka emergence as the beginning of time itself (cf. Bauer
1996; Brundage 1963). Such stories provided a description of an ideal Inka social order, as well
as a justification for its production. Within the Cusco area, a historical narrative of conversion
and articulation was linked to social and spatial divisions, which were again narrativized and
explained through reference to moral, genealogical and geographic characteristics. 53 The Inka by
privilege category provides a glimpse of how the Inkas conceptualized their continuing mission
to order the other, specifically by converting them from prehistoric barbarians into people that
were not quite Inka. This category is especially germane to the archaeological component of

53

Sometimes the subjects of the Inkas are heard making and reifying such distinctions. For instance, the
indigenous chronicler Guaman Poma, who was born in the province of Chinchaysuyu, uses food consumption
practices to contrast the people of Collasuyu, the Collao Indians of little strength and courage, with large bodies, fat
and tallowy because they eat only chuu [freeze-dried potato], with people from the province of Chinchaysuyu
who although small in stature are brave as they are fed maize and drink maize chicha which gives strength (quoted
in Murra 1956: 21).

91

this research, since Wata would have been perceived as the political center of an Inka by
Privilege group.
Thus, in recounting a mytho-history of Inkas and others, a genealogical and geographical
structure of blood and soil a structure of absolute social difference in which the Inkas were
innately superior was rendered as a natural state of affairs. Indeed, Silverblatt (1981, 1988)
demonstrates how other people were subsumed into the Inka order through the restructuring of
local narratives of descent, thereby casting the Inkas as the paternal, apical ancestors of all local
social groups. Yet the mechanism through which local genealogies was restructured is missing
from this account. Below, I argue that the production of an Inka order was essential to how the
Inkas asserted their superior position within a social and spatial hierarchy, as well as their
legitimate right to rule.

Ordering the Other: Place Transformation, Social Difference and Inka Authority
The distinction of Inka and other is an essential prelude to dynamic stories of
confrontation between the civilized Inkas and the uncivilized others. Inka order is continuously
created through a contest between us and them, a process that culminates in the conquest and
conversion of other people. In this sense, the authority of the nascent Inka state rested in both the
appropriation of others right to rule (Kolata 1996), as well as the dramatic and incessant
retelling of this appropriation.
The narratives emphasize the importance of place-transformation to an Inka project that
sought to convert other peoples into lower ranking members of an Inka hierarchical kinship
system. The chroniclers often describe how the conversion of a particularly powerful local place
is critical to the Inka subjugation of an area. I emphasize how stories of dynamic relations
92

between Inkas and others are intimately tied to categories social difference. By doing so, I
further indicate how an Inka idea about the nature of the state in Cusco was produced through
stories recounting a process of ordering the chaotic pre-Inka state of nature. In fact, these
stories demonstrate how the making of Cusco was claimed to be akin to the making of history. In
contrast to the numerous prehistoric places that had to be reshaped within an Inka mold, there
never was a Cusco before the Inkas. Cusco is the beginning of time and space.
In Inka stories, the conquest of new areas is often explained through descriptions of the
partial destruction of old buildings and towns and the construction of new ones, signaling that the
prior spatial structure was converted into an Inka social model of order. This is the one kind of
spatial transformation the incorporation of others through the partition and realignment of their
significant places. Processes of architectural realignment were said to reflect the civilization and
order that was brought by the Inkas, oftentimes in ways that explicitly linked the building of
spatially subdivided towns with the making of a civilized life. For instance, within Cusco itself,
Pachakuti Inka Yupanki, the ninth Inka ruler, is often credited with redesigning the imperial city
of Cusco and its environs, by ordering its streets, making its layout adhere to a rational plan, and
requiring the regular replacement of dilapidated structures (e.g. Betanzos 1996[1551]: 99;
Cabello de Balboa 1951[1586]: 294; Sarmiento 2007[1572]; see discussions in Julien 2000: 254268; Rowe 1944: 6; Zuidema 1964, 1990).
Garcilasos association of spatial order and governance is repeated in other early Colonial
documents that describe how local places were redesigned according to the organization of
Cusco. Numerous sources attribute to the Inkas the advent of subdivided towns that were clearly

93

split into moieties: i.e. upper [hanan] and lower [hurin] sectors. 54 For instance, in an early
reference (Pealosa 1965[1570s]: 337), the elders of the Pacajes area claim that [dicen que] the
first thing that the tenth Inka ruler, Topa Inka Yupanki, did after appropriating the area through
combat was to divide the people into two complementary bands [parcialidades] that were then
governed by permanent leadership offices [caciques principales]. In this story, the partition of
the town into spatial and social units was rendered as an act equivalent to the establishment of
permanent political office. This instance of spatial reordering is claimed to have erased the prior
state of disorder wrought by the localized impermanent leadership and instability that many of
the above narratives cited as characteristic of pre-Inka society. 55
By emphasizing how these spatial divisions coincided with the new ruling structure, these
narratives illustrate how the new Inka administration was not conceptualized as an abstract mode
of governance made over space, but rather as a mode of governance enacted and actualized
through the production of a broader space, made possible by the restructuring of particular
concrete places. In short, in recounting these narratives, people imagine how state order was
emplaced. 56

54

Julien (1983: 24) demonstrates how, in the Lake Titicaca region, entire ethnic territories were subdivided
in this way, at least since Inka times (see also Murra 1968: 117-118). Moreover, archaeological research has
demonstrated the pre-Inka origin of spatially subdivided towns, often divided into clear halves. See DAltroy (1992:
57, 59) for clear renditions of spatially bifurcated pre-Inka towns within the Mantaro area. This difference
underscores how the narratives perhaps reflect ideological visions of the past and present, rather than actual
memories.
55

Sometimes the Inkas failed in their plans to civilize through spatial order. If such a thing occurred, then the
population that was the subject of the failure was viewed as less than human, and not allowed to practice certain key
rituals. For example, the Urus, a much-maligned group from the Titicaca region, were not allowed to partake in the
practices of the Inka state cult. The Inkas attempted to resettle these lake fishermen on dry land, and subdivide their
fishing areas, but were unsuccessful (Julien 1983: 56).

56

In the following chapters, I will argue that an Inka idea of ordered space was built upon the convergence of
both a pre-conceived model and local conditions. Therefore, an idea of order was created through the articulation of
preexisting and preconceived structures, rather than the brute implementation of a rational, mathematical plan. See

94

Moreover, other references focus on how places were converted. Such stories reiterate
how the addition of new Inka buildings channeled and coopted the power of preexisting places,
recasting them in the imperial mold. This is the second kind of spatial transformation that is
described in the chronicles incorporation of others into an imperial hierarchy through the
association of their significant places with Inka places.
In an account detailing processes of transformation and incorporation during the apex of
the Inka imperial project, Cieza (1971[1554]: Ch. 84) describes how the Inkas subjugated the
Wanka people and the land of Xauxa. 57 Referring to the impressive stone buildings, imposing
fortresses and rich temples that he saw throughout the area, Cieza first describes the Inka
organization of the valley, a centralized and ordered form of governance that would have easily
been deemed both rational and legible to Iberian eyes. In the mythic story that accompanies
this example, we see how the Inka ideas of order are rendered. The Wanka were
compartmentalized and civilized in line with an Inka vision of order through both the
subdivision of their space and the construction of distinct kinds of fortress and temple spaces.
Cieza begins by explicitly distinguishing an ordered Inka period organization of Xauxa
from its pre-Inka forebear, adding that, prior to the Inkas, the entire area was in disarray and
disorder. So far, here is the typical rendering of an essential difference between the civilized Inka
and uncivilized other, now exemplified through explicit reference to how such social qualities
are isomorphic with architectural style and spatial organization. Cieza is replicating in prose an
Inka obsession with architectural order, an obsession that drove the conquering Cusqueos to

conclusions.
57

Different chroniclers describe the Wanka (or Huanca) as a culturally distinct group that was distinguished
through modes of dress, language, and a sense of shared history (see LeBlanc 1981: 1).

95

construct extensive grid settlements that followed a preconceived plan, in which each house
almost exactly replicated the dimensions and styles of the others (see Chapter Five).
Yet Cieza adds to the now familiar conceptual binary of us and them by discussing a
process of overturning and conversion that is said to have occurred when Xauxa became an
imperial province. In doing so, this account indicates how the transformation of a place was
perceived to be an ontological, as well as physical, process. Such projects bolstered the Inka
claim to absolute authority by casting them as the divine shapers of the world. Providing a
description of a pre-Inka temple, Cieza writes:

They were all behetrias in the ancient times, all of them making war against each
other. Much later, when they were governed by the Inkas, they worked harder and
raised a great quantity of animals In the ancient times they built a temple on a
spring, which they called Guaribilca. I saw this temple; it was situated next to
three or four molle trees, like great nogales. They were sacred, and next to them
there was a seat made for the nobles who would come here to make sacrifices
at the doorway, there were people who guarded the entrance. Below it, there was
a stairway made of stone that went to the spring of which I have already spoken.
There was a large ancient wall, in the shape of a triangle, and beyond these rooms
there was an open space. There is a god in there, whom they adore. He talks to
some of them in this place. 58 Cieza (1971[1554]: 310, Ch. 84) [my translation]

Thus far, Cieza relates that this pre-Inka temple is a special, restricted space where
privileged people may speak with a local deity. This place was most likely a regional oracle,
58

Todos ellos fueron antiguamente behetrias, y se daban guerra unos a otros. Mas despues, cuando fueron
gobernados por los ingas, se dieron mas a la labor y criaban gran cantidad de ganado. Usaron de ropas mas largas
que las que ellos traian. Por llantos traen en las cabezas una cinta de lana del anchor de cuatro dedos. Peleaban con
hondas y con dardos y algunas lanzas. Antiguamente cabe la fuente ya dicha edificaron un templo, a quien llamaban
Guaribilca; yo lo vi; y junto a el estaban tres o cuatro arboles llamados molles, como grandes nogales. A estos tenian
por sagrados, y junto a ellos estaba un asiento hecho para los senores que venian a sacrificar; de donde se abajaba
por unas losas hasta llegar a un cercado, donde estaba la traza del templo. Habia en la puerta puestos porteros que
guardaban la entrada, y abajaba una escalera de piedra hasta la fuente ya dicha, adonde esta un gran muralla antigua,
hecha en triangulo; destos aposentos estaba un llano, donde dicer que solia estar el demonio, a quien adoraban; el
cual hablaba con algunos dellos en aquel lugar.
96

and/or ancestor shrine of the Wanka. 59 Cieza continues the narrative, recounting how the local
deity was vanquished by a set of more powerful sun gods. The narrative tells of the subsequent
partial destruction and reconstrucution of Guaribilcas temple, signaling that a drastic change had
occurred in the Wanka society. Most importantly, the narrative mentions how the change
occurred due to the appearance of five sun gods, prior to the entry of the Inkas:

and when the Inkas ruled over this land and valley, they demanded the local
people to build a great and magnificent temple of the Sun, like in other provinces.
Yet, the local people did not stop leaving offerings and sacrifices to Guaribilca as
well. 60 (Cieza (1971[1554]: 311, Ch. 84) [my translation]

In the narrative, the Inkas arrive and commission the construction of a large sun temple
that is to be the most revered temple in the area. Yet they do not forbid offerings and sacrifices to
the local deity. That is, although the previous temple is partially destroyed, and the worship of
the Sun ordained, the propitiation of the old god continued. 61 Indeed, an archaeological analysis
of the temple of Guaribilca (also Wari Wilka) has demonstrated that it is a monumental pre-Inka
structure that was substantially altered and elaborated during the Inka imperial period (Shea
1969). But, despite these archaeological findings, it is important to note how this history was
59

There are numerous accounts of this temple in the literature, many of which simply take for granted
Ciezas assumption that this was the principal ancestor shrine of the Wanka, some of them stating that the oracle at
this temple was linked to the important pan-Andean oracle at Pachacamac (see Flores 1959; Matos 1967, 1970;
McEwan 2005). The only published archaeological investigation of this temple is a dissertation conducted by Shea
(1969). McEwan (2005:156) cites a personal communication, stating that the temple has been substantially altered
and rebuilt in contemporary times.
60

y como los ingas reinaron en esta tierra y senorearon este valle, aunque por ellos fue mandado edificar
en el templo del sol tan grande y principal como sohan en las demas partes, no dejaron de hacer sus ofrendas y
sacrificios a este de Guaribilca.

61

As discussed in Chapter One, ethnohistory and archaeology within the Inka realm has repeatedly shown
how such important and sacred preexisting places were remodeled during the Inka period, thus associating the local
deity with the Inkas through either its association with a temple of the sun, or its augmentation.

97

imagined in the sixteenth century: it was significant to tell this story as a process of place-making
and remaking, a process through which the power of a local god was challenged and diminished
through the partial destruction of that gods place. In this way, the narrative tells how the Inkas
selectively transformed the structures of Wanka society, associating a preexisting significant
place with the Inka system, thus simultaneously incorporating and subordinating this place and
its local deity by subsuming it within an Inka vision of unified order.
It is not really important whether the process described in this narrative actually occurred.
What is important is that, when Cieza visited this area, the people rendered their own history in
this way. Indeed, such statements reflect a position about the past by describing how within a
specific valley, local people were incorporated as their principal temple was transformed. 62 The
narrative does not just describe how the Inkas incorporated the Wanka into the empire by
destroying and remaking specific places that were perceived to be culturally significant. It
describes how the Inkas sought to convert the Wanka region into an imperial province through
the partial destruction and partial preservation of both a key place and its perceived meaning.
In a similar vein, when writing of the conversion of the sanctuary located on the Island of
the Sun in Lake Titicaca, Cobo describes how the Inkas drastically augmented and elaborated
important places in order to both solidify their claims to legitimacy, as well as convert the other
people into compliant subjects. Cobo (1990[1653]: 91) explicitly relates how the Inkas, having
increased their power and reputation through a series of conquests, sought to solidify their claims
to absolute rule by spatially transforming, and through this process venerating, a preexisting

62

During the early Colonial period, the Wankas allied with the Spanish to fight and destroy the Inkas
(DAltroy 1992; Espinoza Soriano 1973). Viewed in this light, this story may reflect a Wanka understanding of how
they were subjugated, or how the Inkas attempted to control their territory by tethering their local god to an edifice
of dedicated to the Inka solar religion.

98

sacred and authoritative place. Initially, Cobo describes how people told him a ridiculous story
of how this place became imbued with authority, citing how the sacredness of the place was
established in a mythic time, and thus, much like the Inka stories about Cusco, indicating how
local people connected the power of a place to events that occurred in time immemorial. After
noting that this area was considered to be sacred, Cobo remarks on how its conversion involved
the restriction of its access:

The former temple was augmented with new and impressive buildings Since
the area starting from the straits or isthmus which I mentioned above between
Yunguyu and Copacabana was considered to be a sacred place, the Inka had this
entrance closed off with a wall which he made from one beach to the other. He
had gates put along the wall with watchmen and guards to look over the people
who came to the sanctuary on pilgrimages. (Cobo 1990[1653]: 94; the passage is
cited in Stanish and Bauer 2007: 57).

Cobos description is important because it underscores not only that the Inkas sought to
maintain the significance of this preexisting place, but also how: they actually increased its
significance through the regulation of access and entry. The narrative thus recounts how people
believed that the elaboration of a places authority was tied to its restriction and exclusivity in
an Inka ideology of order, only specific powerful people could experience and engage with
powerful places, and thus only certain people could see the palimpsest of past and present
structures that was embedded within such places. Regularity was converted into regulation in an
effort to increase rather than decrease the authority and significance of a place for both the Inkas
and the local peoples. In short, a process of incorporation and conquest was narrativized as a
process of conversion to a higher kind of value. Such conversion was achieved through
99

elaboration and association with the Inka system. Indeed, Cobo suggests:

after the Incas took possession of these provinces surrounding the lake and its
islands and took charge of enhancing this shrine, those who had the shrine before
became more devoted to it and its influence spread to all the provinces of the
kingdom. (Cobo 1990[1653]: 92)

Cobo then tells of the process of articulation through which the sanctuary at Copacabana
was incorporated into the Inka realm. Cobo relates that an old Colla man from the Lake Titicaca
region visited Cusco to convince Topa Inka, the Inka ruler, to preserve and maintain the shrine,
since it had long been venerated and had been important to the local people. Importantly, Cobo
notes how the old man described to the Inka the origin of this shrine and how it came to be
venerated, thereby illustrating how stories about how the places became powerful were important
to how people perceived places as being powerful. Moreover, the power of such preexisting
places could augment the power of the Inkas. The Inka ruler decided to visit the shrine. Having
toured the area, and bearing witness to how the local people revered this sanctuary in order to
worship the Sun, Topa Inka decided to enhance the grandeur of this shrine in order to further
gain the respect and admiration of the Colla people. In short, Cobo tells of how Topa Inka
embellished the sanctuary in order to establish a connection between this site and the Inkas,
thereby naturalizing a relationship between sacred things and divine people, and making it so
that the veneration of this place was tantamount to the veneration of the Inkas. Topa Inka is said
to have seen this as a project so important that he decided to employ all of his power and
solicitude in endeavoring to extol it with all sincerity, and he took it as an undertaking worthy of
his own grandeur and majesty (Cobo 1990[1653]: 93). In accordance with these desires, the
100

Inkas built a series of enormous and impressive buildings on the island, thereby augmenting the
authoritative veneer of the preexisting place.
In describing this process of selective transformation through which an important place
was re-signified and thereby converted into an emblem of the dominant power, Cobo does not
simply describe a process of Machiavellian ideological trickery or false consciousness, as if the
visitors to the shrine were simply fooled into worshipping the gods of the Inkas through an
architectonic sleight of hand. On the other hand, he retells a narrative about an alliance forged
between Inka royalty and an important sacred place. Indeed, Topa Inka does not simply rebuild
this place in order to convert local subjects. Topa Inka himself comes to worship at this place,
fasting in the sanctuary and removing his sandals before approaching (Cobo 1990[1653]: 93).
The Copacabana example illustrates how such Inka narratives described the remaking of
significant places, not to dominate them, but rather to incorporate them into a general Inka
system. This process of conversion hinged on the elaboration of a preexisting important place, a
process that included the creation of an exclusive space within the preexisting place, as well as
the regulation and the architectural embellishment of that space.
Some archaeological examples illustrate these processes of place conversion. For
instance, Pachacamac was long a coastal kingdom and pilgrimage site that was recognized by
people across the Andes to be the home of a powerful deity and oracle (e.g. Rostworowski 1992,
1999; Shimada 1991, 2000; Tello 1940; Uhle 1903). For centuries, an ethereal complex of
massive adobe pyramids and ramped platforms declared both the political and religious authority
of the elites who inhabited this place. Upon incorporating this region, the Inkas ordered the
construction of a gargantuan pyramid and a monumental structure (Aqllawasi), both of them
complementing yet dwarfing the preexisting structures (Patterson 1985b; Shimada 1991).
101

Similarly, within La Centinela, the capital of the coastal kingdom of Chincha, the Inkas
directed the construction pyramids and plazas that both complemented and overshadowed
preexisting structures, while simultaneously embedding Inka regional symbols and styles within
the local architecture (Lumbreras 2001; Morris and Santillana 2007; Santillana 1984; Wallace
1998). It has been argued that the architectural transformation of La Centinela reflects a relation
of suzerainty between local lord and Inka imperial overlord, and a corresponding dual
organization of authority (Morris and Santillana 2007).
Both narratives and archaeological evidence thus provide preliminary evidence of how
Inka strategies to transform pre-Inka people into compliant, civilized subjects repeatedly equate
processes of conquest and incorporation with the conversion and transformation of particular
preexisting significant places. In chapters to come, I present archaeological data from Wata that
both complements and complicates these stories, thus illustrating the making of an Inka order
within the practices, stone and mortar of a specific Cusco area site.

Summary and Conclusion

In sum, in describing how the conversion of a dark and barbarous past as a necessary
process through which an ordered Inka society was produced, Inka narratives render an epochal
and eschatological view of history a narrative that casts Inka order as necessary, and thus,
legitimate. 63 I demonstrated how the narratives paint a simple binary picture of us and them
casting the Inkas in the role of the civilized, and all others in the roles of barbarians thereby
creating an external other that was either located somewhere outside of the Inka realm, or caught
63

Such a process is evident in the destructive story about the conquest of Wata and Ollantaytambo (Chapter
One), as well as narratives about the conversion of places in the provinces.

102

somewhere in mytho-historical time. In this sense, the narratives work to manifest the categories
of absolute social difference that undergirded Inka claims to authority.
Inka authority was linked to a process of ordering the world, involving the incorporation
and conversion of others, from barbarian to civilized. Inka authority rested upon a claim to order.
Such an order was constituted through the planned plazas and streets of Inka places. Inka
authority was thus realized through the capacity to make and remake other places into Inka
places. These Inka narratives of appropriation and ordering are thus not solely about erasing the
previous society. Rather they are about shaping and cultivating order by selectively ordering and
embellishing preexisting people and places so as to put them in their place vis vis the Inkas.
Furthermore, I demonstrated that there is a cultural logic of order revealed in these
narratives, and that this cultural logic is claimed to be natural and necessary. The narratives mark
Inka entitlement to rulership, reinforcing their claims to natural superiority by indicating how the
power to transform and order the world flowed through Inka veins. Inka authority is thus claimed
to be necessary. Rooted in a specific characterization of the non-Inka past as a chaotic age of
warfare and inhumanity, these stories portray past people as naturally deficient, and thus render
necessary a divinely inspired Inka project of ordering. More specifically, the Inkas claimed their
absolute authority by casting other people as savage, disordered, and badly in need of Inka
cultivation, thus likening their own project of political expansion and social control to a
necessary agrarian project of implanting a natural order throughout a rough and fallow land. The
incorporation and conversion of others is thus explicitly rendered in narratives that describe the
transformation of place and land.
Many of the narratives depict the active Inka conquest and conversion of a passive
periphery, a violent process of destruction and erasure during which the power of a dominant
103

elite in the city of Cusco was expressed through the conquest of other people and their
representative places. It is important to note that these narratives were most likely reflections of
the later imperial ideology, thereby producing an image of history infused with Inka imperial
pretensions and arrogance. Such an ideology invoked claims to an absolute authority, a
naturalized divinity that flowed through Inka veins, which therefore sharply distinguished all
things Inka from all things non-Inka, attributing to Inka blood the power to transform the world
through the cultivation of the soil. Indeed, Inka as such was a claim of absolute social
difference. Moreover, it appears as though this claim of absolute social difference was
manifested through the conversion of local people into Inka subjects and the transformation of
local places into emblems of the Inka state. In so doing, the Inkas manifested their claim to
absolute difference by physically separating and conceptually distinguishing an ordered Inka
era and landscape from its disordered antecedents.
In the following chapters, I cast further light on the ideological underpinnings of these
narratives through an intensive and multi-scalar investigation of the processes through which the
Inka state emerged in the Cusco area. I move from the textual to the archaeological, examining
how such pre-Inka places were produced and perceived as places of authority. I discuss how
important pre-Inka places in the Cusco area were established through perpetual acts of placemaking construction, consumption and commemoration. I examine how, through the
coordination of specific socioeconomic and ceremonial practices, people produced one of these
places Wata as a representative and political center. Moreover, I show how, reflected in both
these narratives and in archaeological remains is an Inka imperial ideology that specifically
sought to erase vestiges of the pre-Inka past while supporting the Inkas claim to absolute
authority and exclusivity.
104

CHAPTER THREE
THE POLITICS OF LOCALITY: PRE-INKA SOCIAL LANDSCAPES OF THE
OLLANTAYTAMBO AREA (ca. 10001300 C.E.)

When describing the pre-Inka epoch to the Spanish, Inka elites spoke of a dark and
chaotic world. They emphasized how the Inka dismantled this world, and reassembled its
constituent parts into an ordered civilization. As argued in the previous chapter, by rendering
such an epochal history, such narratives efface the dynamic history throughout which Inka
governmental order was built, while both producing and essentializing an imagined pre-Inka
past. However, they also reveal what, within the waning days of the Inka Empire, was believed
to be essential to Andean politics.
Inka narratives imputed a sort of natural power to particular places. They defined these
places as seats of traditional authority i.e., places generally recognized as receptacles of
ancestral power. In many early Colonial documents, a primordial link is claimed to exist between
people and place, blood and soil (e.g. Bauer 1991; Spalding 1984; Stern 1993; Urton 1990; for a
Cusco-based document, see La Lone 1985). Moreover, certain Andean towns (llactas) are often
described as potent centers of cosmological and political authority, sources of social identity, and
homes to both local deities and earthly leaders. 1

In the chronicles, llacta is often employed to refer to a specific kind of place. The Spanish equate the term
with pueblo. Yet llactas were more than just places of residence. In some instances, llactayoq, or the people of a
town, are referred to as the original inhabitants of a place who could trace their connection to the place through their
ancestral line (Arriaga 1968[1621]: 248; Mura 1962[1590]: 223). In other instances, llacta describes a political
demarcation marking a group of people who owe allegiance or tribute to the Inka (Cieza 1971[1554]). The
importance of towns was described in a similar way by the Spaniards who encountered and subjugated the people in
and around the Valley of Mexico (Clendinnen 1991:23).

105

Similarly, places of origin, called paqarinas 2, were perceived to be embodiments of the

power and essential social identity of the groups indigenous to the area. And, within historical
accounts and litigation documents, the fortresses (pukaras) of the highland Andes accrue special
importance as avatars of both pre-Inka period political and/or ethnic territory, as well as the
tropes of barbarism and bloodshed that the Inkas used to characterize the past. The distinction
between llacta and pukara town and fortified town is especially important, seeing as both of
these places were defined and/or perceived as the sources of local kin-based political authority.
The llacta embodies local identity, while the pukara protects it. What these terms llacta,
paqarina and pukara have in common is how they render unquestionable the power of select
places. Although it is unclear whether the Inkas invented or co-opted this local political
tradition 3 of powerful places, it is clear that they assembled an idealized social and geographic
order by referring to the natural authority of specific places.
Of course, the power of these places was neither natural nor inborn. It was claimed. This
chapter investigates the dynamic history that produced such placesa history that is effaced in
Inka narratives about the chaotic and barbarous pre-Inka world. Herein I explore how pre-Inka

In Quechua, paqarina is the present participle of pacarini, which means to dawn, begin, or be born (see
Domingo de Santo Tomas 1951[1560]; Salomon 1991: 36, fn 86). Paqarina refers to both a beginning and a place
it denotes the moment and space that gave birth to a specific kin group, or ayllu (see Bauer 1991). Each groups
emergence from these particular places is said to have occurred in mythic time. Noting the enduring power of
paqarinas, the Jesuit priest Pablo Joseph de Arriaga (1968[1621]: 202) told of how Andean people passionately
resisted Spanish efforts to relocate and resettle them into towns, describing how such people claimed that they had to
live in or near the places from which their people were said to have descended. Inka imperial expansion was often
described as a project of cosmological ordering and conversion that was achieved through the subordination of local
paqarinas to the ultimate, Inka paqarina the Sun (e.g. Cummins 2007; Silverblatt 1988). On the other hand, For
more information on paqarinas, see Hiltunen (1999: 107); MacCormack (1991: 97); Ramrez (2005: 209).

Anthropological accounts dealing with the invention of tradition (Hobsbawm and Ranger 1992; see also
Yoffee 2007) attend to how political and social projects may construct or emphasize a past upon which a
contemporary political claim is staked. Here, I gesture to this body of literature, even though it raises a thorny issue:
how do we, as researchers, distinguish authentic from invented or co-opted tradition?

106

social actors staked claims to their political authority by defining particular places as founts of
traditional power. To ask what constitutes such a definition of political tradition is to ask
what material and symbolic practices work to embed cultural significance within specific
localities. This inquiry into of the political production of locality within the pre-Inka world thus
necessitates an investigation of the contexts in which social actors declared their authority, as
well as an examination of how social actors attempted to delimit contexts in which political
action could take place. It focuses on the decades directly preceding Inka rule in the Cusco
region, an area that was later to become the symbolic center of the Inka Empire.
By looking into how specific socioeconomic and ceremonial practices constituted
political authority within the pre-Inka world, the chapter sheds some light on the shadowy world
that preceded Inka ascendancy, uncovering the dynamic history that underlies the myths,
narratives, and claims to tradition associated with pre-Inka societies. In presenting survey and
excavation data from the Wata Archaeological Project (WAP 2005-2007), I investigate the
practices and that constituted a significant pre-Inka political place (Wata) within an area that
was later cast as an essential part of the Inkas Cusco region archetype of order the
Ollantaytambo area (Figure 3.1). Rather than assuming that warring or competing chiefdoms
preceded the Inkas, I examine the specific practices through which pre-Inka groups declared their
political autonomy by producing and maintaining distinct localities. I place particular focus on
how social actors staked political claims, engaged in social conflict, and interacted with one
another by participating in political practices, like feasting and ancestor veneration.
This examination thus requires a shift from narratives of the later Inka imperial period
(ca. 1400-1533 C.E.) to an exploration of the political and social contours of Wata in its
107

immediate context prior to Inka ascendancy, throughout the Late Intermediate Period (LIP; ca.
1000-1400 C.E.). Chronologically situated between periods dominated by Wari and Inka states,
the LIP is crucial for understanding how changes in local and regional sociopolitical practices
contributed to the emergence of the Inka polity, and also for a reconceptualization of typical
models and state claims about the rise of civilization out of a chaotic and disordered epoch.
Although this chapter is regional in scope, my intensive analysis of Wataa ceremonial center
that was occupied and elaborated for over a thousand yearsprovides a particularly germane
archaeological case study, since, throughout these centuries, Wata was dramatically transformed
from a small residential site to a center of local authority.

Figure 3.1: The northern aspect of the Cusco region in which the WAP survey was situated. The dashed line
corresponds to the ~200 kilometer survey zone.

108

The chapter opens with a brief theoretical discussion of historicist perspectives that detail
the epochal rise and fall of regional polities. I argue that such perspectives often hinder our
understanding of the processes that constitute local political organization. Specifically, I review
the problematic aspects of the LIP as an analytical category, according particular emphasis to the
ways in which its characterization as an intermediate period and a kind of Dark Ages
obscures knowledge of the political developments that occurred throughout the centuries
immediately preceding Inka domination (see also Arkush 2005, 2008; Arkush and Stanish 2006;
Dean 2005). 4
The very label intermediate suggests a lack of importance, evoking a timespan
distinguished chiefly by its temporal location between two more significant epochs. In the Cusco
region, current theories of pre-Inka sociopolitical organization often characterize the Late
Intermediate Period in terms of the declining power of an expansionary state (Wari) (McEwan et
al. 2008), or of chronologically broader political economic and ecological transformations
(Bauer 2004; Covey 2006; McEwan et al. 2002). Such theories admirably portray the political
geography of pre-Inka social groups, but they tell us very little about how authority was
constituted and reproduced within and among these groups. 5
In contrast, I consider local organization to be less a passive reaction to broad political or
ecological trends, and more an active political strategy. Such a perspective attributes agency to
local social actors while underscoring the need to further evaluate and delineate the institutional
4

From here on, I employ the term LIP only when referring to other researchers characterization of the
period before Inka imperial expansion (ca. 1000- 1400 C.E.). Below, I demonstrate how recent Cusco area research
has provided an empirical challenge to the typical rendering of the LIP.

Other researchers have noted how there is a severe lack of knowledge pertaining to the potential
significance of common sociocultural practices within and among otherwise separate Andean LIP polities (see
Conlee 2000: 27; Dean 2005).

109

practices of non-state societies. Specifically, I study the practices and processes of localization. I
define localization in two ways. Localization may refer to scale the practices and routines that
organize daily life. For instance, socioeconomic practices may be organized in a way that
accentuates immediate social relations within a discrete area. Also, localization may be an
explicit and intentional political claim. For instance, particular ceremonial practices may be
organized within specific places in order to establish the authority of elites, or to declare and
emplace the autonomy of a social group.
To examine these interrelated forms of localization, I concentrate on multiple scales of
social interaction and practice, thereby seeking to understand both the local and regional
processes through which people constituted and produced distinct localities. First, I employ
regional settlement pattern, land use, and excavation data to argue that, during the pre-Inka
centuries, the spatial distribution of specific socioeconomic practices corresponded to the
organization of distinct local agro-pastoral communities. Second, I present systematic surface
collection and architectural data to discuss how certain political practices contributed to a form
of regional interaction that, perhaps ironically, further buttressed peoples claims to localities.
Among the political practices I discuss, feasting and mortuary practices prove particularly
salient. I demonstrate that these practices situated in specific places were the means by which
the political authority of emergent local elites was constituted, performed, and recognized.
In so doing, I propose a new rendering of pre-Inka politics in which changes in the
political authority are generated less by the rise and fall of polities, and more by the coordination
and staging of specific practices. Such practices assemble distinct landscapes the ways that
people experience and perceive their social and physical environment (Chapter One; Smith
110

2003). Specifically, these situated practices underwrite claims to authority by rendering certain
places and only those places political.

Horizons, Intermediate Periods, and the Tragedy of Locality

The particular histories of pre-Inka places have been consumed not only within the
essentializing flame of an Inka claim to absolute authority, but also within contemporary
historiographic discourses. Although proclaiming that certain places held traditional authority,
the Inkas silenced these places past, and dampened the voices of their predecessors by creating a
caricature of a pre-Inka world populated by barbarians and warring chiefs (cinchecona).
Similarly, when historians and archaeologists characterize periods like the pre-Inka centuries as a
monolithic Dark Ages, they stamp down the agency and devalue the institutional innovations of
the people that both lived and produced history prior to the formation of the Inka state.
Numerous researchers have emphasized how local political organization characterizes the
Andean LIP (e.g. Arkush 2008; DAltroy 1992; D. Julien 1993; Keatinge 1988; Morris and
Thompson 1985; Parsons et al. 2000; Schreiber 1987). In the Andean highlands, LIP social
groups built localized settlements that were frequently clustered around densely agglutinated,
and often fortified, towns (e.g. Arkush and Stanish 2005; Covey 2008; Hastorf 1993; Stanish
2003). Some scholars suggest that these localized LIP groups participated in regional social
interactions and/or assembled confederative political networks 6 (e.g. Dillehay 1977, 1979; D.
Julien 1994; Salomon 1986). Other researchers emphasize how these localized LIP groups were
engaged in endemic warfare brought on by a fierce competition for productive agricultural lands
6

Some researchers have noted how there is a severe lack of knowledge pertaining to the potential
significance of common sociocultural practices within and among otherwise separate Andean LIP polities (see
Conlee 2000: 27; Dean 2005).

111

and economic resources (e.g. Arkush 2005; Hastings 1987; Hyslop 1977, 1979; Krzanowski
1977, 1985). Despite their different interpretations of social context and conflict, these accounts
underscore how the LIP is largely characterized by social aggregation within discrete localized
areas (see also D. Julien 1994: 266). An understanding of the LIP thus requires an inquiry into
the politics of localization.
But, interpretations of the social and political practices that define the LIP often remain
hamstrung by accounts of incessant warfare, or use of the sixteenth century Spanish sources to
explain thirteenth and fourteenth century archaeological contexts. Accounts of a regional power
struggle flatten variation among local LIP social groups, and often provide only a loosely
rendered depiction of the myriad political conditions, strategies, and practices that may have led
to social conflict or interaction. 7 In fact, the LIP is often labeled as a transitional period and/or
political vacuum (Keatinge 1988: xvi; see similar critique in Arkush and Stanish 2006). Such
labels are then applied to the highland Andes, even though the LIP is perhaps best characterized
by its diversity in forms of political organization, ranging from coastal empires (Chim) to smallscale highland polities (see Covey 2008 for an extensive review).
Classifications that equate local organization with conflict between groups are in part
effects of the theoretical and temporal categories that have been used to characterize the pre-Inka
Andean past, as well as non-state political organization more generally. Such categories are often
embedded in a kind of evolutionary historicism, and a specific definition of the state.

Recently, Arkush (2005, 2008) has launched a similar critique of how archaeologists characterize the Late
Intermediate Period. Arkush argues that we need to better understand the practices and places of warfare. Rather
than repeat the critique, I add to Arkushs (2008) account by examining the kinds of spatial and political
organization that underpinned social conflict and/or interaction throughout these centuries.

112

Common to many historiographic accounts is a depiction of political development that

takes the graphic form of a sine-wave. The sine-wave illustrates a cyclical vacillation between
the crests of state-sponsored centralization and troughs of social conflict and political
balkanization 8 (Feinman 1998; Marcus 1993, 1998; Smith 1992). Crests are implicitly equated
with periods of high civilization, (Baines and Yoffee 1998), and marked by centralized and
multi-tiered governmental bureaucracy, intellectual advances, and a pervasive aesthetic. In
contrast, the troughs of such models are often called intermediate periods and described as a
politically balkanized world, or Dark Ages. The model raises vexing questions about the
historical and empirical definition of such crests and troughs. Furthermore, there is a problematic
geographic assumption embedded in this historicism: crests are associated with horizons of
regional stylistic (and often social) integration while troughs correspond to localization.
In archaeological accounts of the Andes, the horizon concept, and the intermediate
periods that it entails, is a common application of this kind of historicism. As typically rendered
in Andean studies, a horizon refers to the presence of certain material styles, and the presence of
a regional state or unifying religious movement. Material styles are thus assumed to coincide
with state-sponsored administration, political territoriality, or the spread of a universalizing
ideology (cf. Rice 1993a). Some researchers have argued that the concept of a cultural horizon as
it has been applied to Andean material lacks the analytical capacity to understand the kinds of
social processes that generate and maintain identities, or at least non-random similarities, in
8

Marcus (1993) Dynamic Model is perhaps the most striking and blunt representation of this perspective.
The Dynamic Model charts the vagaries of political organization within a given region, representing these processes
as a wavy line that rises and falls as time passes, corresponding to periods of increased and decreased complexity.
Such models are not the specific domain of archaeologists. Indeed, Williams (1977: 121-127) invokes a similar
representation (and set of problems) in his conceptualization of residual, dominant, and emergent forms of culture.
Both representations are problematic because they assume continuity. By doing so, they render a process as a thing.
For Marcus (1996) it is the region that is assumed to be continuous. For Williams (1977) it is culture.

113

material culture over space and time (Kolata 1993b: 203). However, in attending to ancient
governance and administrative bureaucracy, the stylistic continuity implied by horizons is often
taken to correspond to the periods of centralization and multi-tiered governmental organization
that are instigated by state projects.
Often cast as intermediate periods, the troughs of these sinusoidal models refer to
periods during which the institutional practices and spaces of centralized rule are absent,
underdeveloped, destroyed, or rejected. In contrast to the horizons, which are defined by cultural
attributes, these are temporal periods (Rowe 1962). Yet although intermediate periods are
meant to be heuristic temporal categories, they are often not defined strictly by temporality. They
are often defined by their interstitial and internecine position within a regional chronology, as
well as the assumption that a lack of centralization coincides with a lack of political order. The
lack of a centralized administrative bureaucracy is then often presumed to correspond to
balkanized and localized sociopolitical organization (e.g. discrete chiefdoms; see critique in
Pauketat 2007). Moreover, lacking in an organizational capacity to mobilize or sponsor social
labor, it is assumed that there can be no art, no monumental architecture in short, no
civilization.9 Such historiographic renderings, in both the Andes and more generally, bear a
problematic resemblance to the claims of universality and progress that define imperial projects
(Chapter Two; Eisenstadt 1963; Mann 1986: 170).

Indeed, researchers often make such aesthetic judgments as if they are universal attributes of non-state
organization. For example, in referring to the decline of the Old Kingdom and the onset of the First Intermediate
Period in ancient Egypt, (Seidlmayer 2002:125) describes changes in artistic style as a change in quality, stating that
there is no way of denying that many [FIP] pieces are simply ugly and incompetently made (125). Similarly, on a
lack of creativity and innovation during the LIP, Gasparini and Margolies (1980: 42) state that after the fall of
Tiwanaku and Wari, urban centers did not appear in the south until the rebuilding of Cuzco; life was essentially rural
and Art did not again produce works comparable to Tiwanaku.

114

In general, the dissolution of regional state governance is frequently assumed to instigate

a period of darkness and disorder. These assumptions obscure the political strategies implicit in
processes of localization i.e. the practices that constitute the local as such. Such assumptions
are evident in broad range of archaeological literatures. For example, scholars speak of the
political balkanization and bloodshed that followed the dissolution of the Western Roman
Empire (e.g. Webster and Brown 1997). They assume that centuries of fragmentation and
disorder coincided with the fading glory of Mycenaean palace structures (e.g. Osborne 1996;
Snodgrass 1971), and likewise, speak of the periods of darkness and disorder that both preceded
and followed the ancient Egyptian dynastic rule (e.g. Baines and Yoffee 1998; Morris 2006;
Seidlmayer 2003). Most pertinent to this case, scholars largely assume that an era of warfare and
cultural decay followed the decline of the Wari state and preceded the rise of the Inkas in the
Andes (e.g. Parsons and Hastings 1988).
Bracketed by the Middle (Wari) and Late (Inka) Horizons, the Andean LIP provides a
quintessential example of a trough. The LIP is often characterized as an era of political
balkanization that followed the dissolution of the Wari and Tiwanaku states within the Andes
(e.g. Bauer 2004; Conlee 2006; Covey 2008; DAltroy 2001; Parsons and Hastings 1988).
Coinciding with the collapse of these polities was a massive drought that may have rendered
ineffective the agricultural infrastructure upon which these states relied (Binford et al. 1997;
Ortloff and Kolata 1993; Erickson 1992, 1999: Stanish 2007). 10 Political balkanization is often
explained to be a reaction to these states collapse, and/or these ecological changes (e.g. Covey

10

Widespread climate change is often proposed to have contributed to the dramatic collapse of the Middle
Horizon states, as well as the sweeping transformation of socioeconomic organization in some Andean areas.
However, this hypothesis has been the subject of heated debate (see Erickson 1999; Janusek and Kolata 2004).

115

2006a, 2008; DAltroy 2001; DAltroy and Hastorf 2001; Parsons and Hastings 1988; Parsons et
al. 2000). Aggregation within fortified sites is often interpreted as a general response to these
general economic and ecological circumstances. Conflict and competition between social groups
is then said to further the localization of social groups within sharply demarcated, socially
circumscribed territories and/or fortified spaces. Although such research has provided invaluable
insights into many LIP polities in several Andean regions, it is important to remember that LIP
is a heuristic temporal category and not a given sociological or political phenomenon. That is, it
is important to continue to investigate the underlying sociopolitical conditions that produced
diversity and/or correspondence in LIP contexts, instead of assuming that the LIP was a
fragmented and chaotic world characterized by socio-cultural stagnation, creative decline, and
organizational devolution (see also Arkush 2005).
In sum, due to an over-emphasis on regional integration and tiered bureaucratic
administration, as well as the grandeur and pomp of the state (see also Feinman 1998), periods of
local organization are too often treated as passive responses or as props. They are passive
inasmuch as they are conceptualized as reactions to the dissolution of broader state-sponsored
projects of world-making. They are characterized as props when defined as the necessary and
teleological stages or the vacant periods upon which aspiring and aggrandizing elite actors
concoct their master plans. By focusing on the temporal fluctuation between localized
fragmentation and regional integration, such narratives render the local and the regional as a
priori ontological categories with a given suite of social characteristics. In consequence, the
local is presupposed rather than investigated. But, periods of local organization or non-state
institutional practice are rarely considered on their own terms. Locality is seldom considered an
116

active and politically motivated strategy. One might call this the tragedy of locality. 11 Indeed,
locality suffers a double tragedy both ancient state projects and contemporary scholarly
historicisms erase local processes.

Rethinking the Late Intermediate Period

In light of this discussion, we can see two major problems with the LIP as a temporal and
conceptual construct. (1) Theoretically, the LIP is often defined as a period ruled only by
competition and warfare. But while there may have been conflict during this period, such an
assumption does not explain or examine the social processes that led to regional conflicts.
Indeed, many accounts reverse the history by assuming localization and balkanization to be
effects of warfare, rather than the political and social contexts within which wars, or raiding,
occurred. 12 (2) Empirically, the LIP is typically defined by the disappearance of the Wari and the
later entry of the Inka into a particular Andean area. 13 Thus, the temporal brackets that
chronologically locate the LIP are not only dependent on these states, but also vary widely

11

My phrase the tragedy of locality is a deliberate play on Edward Caseys (1998) lament for the fate of
place. This chapter critiques how local organization is often effaced by accounts and claims of imperial grandeur. I
also challenges anthropological and philosophical accounts, like Caseys (1998), that often assume tradition to be
embedded in local places, rather than investigating how both places and traditions are implicated and produced by
political claims.

12

A similar critique has been made by scholars of medieval castles in Europe. Indeed researchers have
recently come to see the fortified medieval castle as less of a military installation, and more of a seigneurial
residence, the walls and towers of which often reflect aristocratic pretensions and a sociopolitical climate defined by
localism (see Johnson 2002: 177).

13

Through collaboration with Dorothy Menzel (1959, 1964, 1966, 1976), Rowe (1962, 1967) established the
Andean horizons chronology through analysis of changes in the ceramic sequence of the Ica Valley in southern
Per. Andean researchers generally refer to the horizons and intermediate periods that were established within this
chronological model, while tweaking the dates through which each period is recognized. For instance, in the Lake
Titicaca region, researchers use a variation of Rowes (1967) chronology that differs due to its inclusion of local
Archaic and Formative periods (see Kolata 2003; Stanish 2003b).

117

throughout the Andes, since they are contingent on the rate of Inka expansionism in various
areas. For instance, it is difficult to compare a Cusco region LIP with the LIP of another area,
since the Cusco region was defined by protracted processes of political interaction that led to the
consolidation of the Inka state, which was the very entity that brought a close to the LIP in
other regions (Bauer 2004; Bauer and Covey 2002; Covey 2006a; Rowe 1967).
In an effort to emphasize the relation between local developments that occurred in both
the Ollantaytambo area and Cusco region, I introduce a new chronological category. I use the
term Ollanta Phase when referring to the centuries following Wari rule within the northwest
Cusco area (Ollanta Phase [OP] ca. 1000-1300 C.E). Figure 3.2 depicts the relation between this
phase and other established regional chronologies largely derived from Ica (the Inka Provinces)
(Rowe 1967) and Cusco (Rowe 1944, 1945, 1946; Bauer 1992, 2004; Covey 2006a; McEwan et
al. 2008). 14 I introduce this category to address the issues of generalization associated with the
LIP, thus focusing on social processes within a discrete region while directing attention away
from the entrenched description of the LIP as a chaotic and balkanized political era characterized
only by incessant interregnum conflict.

14

The approximate end-date of the Ollanta Phase corresponds to both the appearance of a different type of
serving vessel (Inka-related ceramic styles), as well as a suite of dramatic architectural transformations that were
documented throughout our excavations at Wata. Such architectural transformations are also visible at other sites
throughout the WAP survey region (Chapter Four).

118

Cusco region

Inka Provinces

Ollanta Phase (Ollantaytambo)

Late Intermediate Period (LIP)
or Killke Period (Cusco)

Dates

ca. 1000 - 1300 C.E.

Early Inka Period

Late Intermediate Period (LIP)

ca. 1300 - 1400 C.E.

Imperial Inka Period

Imperial Inka Period

ca. 1400 -1533 C.E.

Table 3.1: The Cusco region chronology relative to the generalized periodization used throughout the Inka
provinces. The Ollanta Phase refers to particular and temporally sensitive stylistic changes that have been
documented in the northwest area of the Cusco region.

I also introduce this category for practical reasons. Previously, researchers in the Cusco
region have applied the category Killke Period to the centuries that precede Inka rule (e.g.
Bauer 2004; Bauer and Covey 2002; Covey 2006). The Killke Period corresponds to the
distribution of Killke pottery a decorative style (Gonzlez Corrales 1984; Heffernan 1996;
Rivera 1971a, 1971b; Rowe 1944). Researchers often assume that this decorative style was
produced in the Cusco Valley prior to the rise of formal Inka power 15 (Bauer 1992, 2002, 2004;
Bauer and Covey 2002; Covey 2006a, 2008; cf. Chatfield 2007, 2010). Consequently, the
distribution of Killke style pottery is taken to coincide with the influence of the early Inka state,
or the presence of Cusco administrators within local settings (Bauer 1992, 2004; Covey 2006a,
2008).
15

The distribution of Killke styles has been mapped relative to the Cusco and Paruro areas (Bauer 1992). The
maps have shown a distance decay effect, implying that they were produced in the Cusco area densities of Killke
ceramics decrease as one enters the Colcha ceramic producing region of Paruro.

119

But, the use of Killke style pottery as a temporal marker is problematic in its culturalhistorical assumptions and tenuous empirical association with political influence (see also
Chatfield 2007; Covey 2006a: 135; McEwan 2005: 199). 16 What is more, the Killke style is an
especially problematic temporal marker in the Ollantaytambo area, where many local styles
derived from pre-Inka (twelfth and thirteenth century) excavation contexts mimic some of the
design and manufacture features of Killke pottery, yet with distinct local variations. Indeed, local
variations of similar decorative motifs characterize much of the pottery from Cusco area pre-Inka
contexts (Alcina Franch et al. 1976; Bauer 1999; Haquehua Huaman and Maqque Azorsa 1996;
Kendall 1976, 1985, 1996; Lunt 1984, 1987; Rowe 1944). Some researchers have called these
local variations Killke-related styles (e.g. Bauer and Stanish 1990). Yet such a designation
implies that local styles are derived from a general Killke aesthetic. Due to such issues, as well
as the widespread distribution of Killke-related decorative motifs, Cusco region researchers
cannot reliably assume that the presence of Killke or Killke-related pottery within an
archaeological site indicates socio-political relationships with Cusco, or early Inka influence.
The aforementioned issues suggest that, in documenting the pre-Inka landscape, less attention
should be given to regional ceramic stylistic distribution alone, and more emphasis placed on
how material cultural and architectural forms correspond to specific kinds of places and practices
within distinct areas.
In order to more precisely render the chronology of this area, the Ollanta Phase is defined
through reference to regional material cultural and architectural styles. I track the distribution of

16

Also, in some areas of the Cusco region, it is evident that the Killke style was produced throughout later
periods (Chatfield 2007, 2010), thus making it a problematic temporal marker when used to delineate settlement
types in the absence of other kinds of data.

120

these styles to document local variations in social practices. That is, Ollanta Phase ceramics are
not immediately taken to correspond to political influence, cultural or ethnic identity, or social
affiliationi.e. cultural historical assumptions that are sometimes employed in analyses of the
distribution of Killke pottery. First, the Ollanta Phase is characterized by the correspondence of
ceramic decorative styles, manufacture styles, and rim types on pottery derived from early
stratigraphic levels at both Wata and Kanaqchimpatwo large Qotakalle Period and Ollanta
Phase villages. I name these ceramics the Ollanta Phase type. 17 There are five diagnostic
variations of this type throughout the survey area, including Ollanta Black on Red, Ollanta Red,
Ollanta Black on Buff, Ollanta Red on Buff and Ollanta Plain (Figures 3.2, 3.3). At Wata,
radiocarbon measurements from primary contexts containing Ollanta Phase pottery 18 yielded
dates for the mid thirteenth and fourteenth centuries (below).
Besides these pottery types, the Ollanta Phase also refers to regional similarities in
architectural styles, most notably widespread commonalities in houses. 19 We measured and
recorded the architectural attributes of 124 residential structures that were directly associated
with medium to high densities of OP ceramics. The majority of the OP residential structures
within the survey zone are stand-alone houses that have a circular or ovoid shape, and are
17

The name does not imply that this ceramic type was only produced at Ollantaytambo.

18

Besides the decorative motifs and characteristic forms presented here, OP pottery typically has a rough
paste with angular and sub-angular inclusions of varying size, ranging from a very coarse (1-2mm) to a medium
(0.25-0.5) sand. In addition, the inclusions are rarely well-sorted. Overall, these data suggest little treatment of
inclusion materials prior to their insertion into the clay matrix. Inclusions often consist of gravel that includes
quartzite and feldspar. In contrast to later Inka ceramics, OP sherds contain very little (if any) mica. Paste color
varies by area within the survey zone (see below).
19

Kendall (1976) also notes that there is a local pre-Inka architectural style that characterizes the Vilcanota
Valley (also called the Sacred or Urubamba Valley). Kendall established an architectural seriation in which, circular
buildings antedate rectangular. She suggests that elements of what she calls the Urubamba architectural style
influenced the Inka architectural canon (Kendall 1976: 98; see also Kendall 1985; Niles 1980).

121

constructed from semi-angular, uncut fieldstone (Figure 3.4). Although there is some variation in
the morphology of the houses, they all reflect remarkably similar processes of construction and
elaboration. Houses are typically circular or D-shaped, do not sit on platforms or terraces, and
have walls that are un-coursed and approximately 35-50cm wide (see also Kendall 1986; Rice
1993b). At Wata, two radiocarbon dates verify that the structures were built or used in the
thirteenth century, prior to the Inka period reorganization of Wata.

Figure 3.2: D-shaped (left) and circular (right) buildings are common kinds of OP residential architecture.

122

Figure 3.3: Some representative OP decorated serving vessel sherds (bowls). Note that the bowls have straight
sides, and are often decorated with thick lines. Pictured here are Ollanta Black (fine-line) on Plain (right), Black
on Red (middle), and Black and Red (thick-line) on Buff (right). The drawings show deep (left) and relatively
shallow (right) bowls. Rim forms do not always correspond to vessel forms or decorative motifs.

123

Figure 3.4: Some representative OP decorated sherds. These large jars and pitchers (left) and storage vessels
(right) are typically painted with thick red and white bands near the rim.

The pottery types are often characterized by a distinct decorative style consisting of thick
black and red lines painted on a buff background. There are also fine-lined versions of the same
124

decorative motifs. Both fine and thick-lined styles are painted on pots sharing similar paste types,
morphologies, and rim forms. Thus, it is probable that all of these styles were produced in the
Ollantaytambo area. Our analyses did not reveal any significant differences in the contexts
(spatial or stratigraphic) in which fine or thick-lined ceramics were recovered.
These ceramic and architectural styles are used to define the Ollanta Phase, which is a
heuristic temporal category. They are categories used to further delineate the kinds of social
practices that framed everyday experience and politics within these centuries. Specific pottery
forms were classified through study of rim types. Of these pottery forms, serving vessels
bowls, plates, and small jarsare of particular interest to this study. Highly decorated versions
of these serving vessels would have been principal components of feasting events and other
forms of collective commensal politics. Here, the distribution of pottery alone is not used to
define site classes or regional settlement patterns. Rather, by tracking the spatial distribution of
specific decorated serving wares relative to other pottery forms and artifact densities,
architectural morphology styles, settlement locations, and settlement types, we may move
beyond the culture-historical assumptions of social identity and political influence that are
sometimes invoked by style categories (like Killke), and thus gain analytical entre into the
organization of pre-Inka social practices.

A Politics of Localization: Ollanta Phase Settlement Patterns

A macro-scale survey of the area, when paired with a close attention to the distribution of
more micro-scale processes, reveals not only the limitations of the LIP archetype, but also, more
broadly, the elisions attendant on schematic renderings of political landscapes that are, by
125

definition, dynamic and complex. This regional and synchronic view of settlement patterns in the
Ollantaytambo area illustrates the production and maintenance of discrete settlement clusters.
Our survey documented eighty-two sites with clear OP components (Figure 3.5). 20 These sites
were arranged in tight settlement clusters, each of them containing one or two settlements
containing high densities of decorated serving vessels. 21

20

OP component refers to sites that possess OP ceramic types, generally, one of the defined OP ceramic
stylistic types, and/or OP architectural styles. OP sites and serving vessel percentages per site were each categorized
into four ranks using a classification by natural breaks (jenks) method. Site size ranks are not assumed to coincide
with administrative tiers or a site-size hierarchy. The ranks are only considered in tandem with surface collection
data for serving vessel distributions.

21

I intentionally do not refer to central place theory when describing the spatial organization of these sites.
Central place theory was developed as a means to conceptualize the functional distribution of sites upon
homogenous terrain within modern market societies (Berry 1958; Christaller 1966[1933]; Losch 1938). This theory
also presupposes both a constant demand for goods and services throughout an area, as well as the absence of social
or political barriers to trade (e.g. Plattner 1989: 182). Central place theory has been heavily critiqued by geographers
working in contemporary contexts, as well as archaeologists (e.g. Smith 2003; Vining 1955). Besides this critique,
and central place theorys problematic assumption of a featureless geography, it has no value in analyses of spatial
and social organization in topographically extreme, non-market contexts like the ancient Andes.

126

Figure 3.5: This map illustrates the OP settlements (circles) and serving vessel percentages (triangles) that were
documented throughout the survey area. The map depicts a clustered settlement pattern. It also shows how high
percentages (>25%) of decorated serving vessels are only associated with specific sites. As demonstrated below,
the majority of the sites with high serving vessel percentages also contained mortuary complexes, thereby
suggesting that they were loci for specific kinds of social practices. See Appendix B for a complete list of sites.

127

In the Ollantaytambo area, a macro-scale perspective focusing on the distribution of

practices reveals a dichotomous settlement pattern in which sites were distinguished by different
practices. That is, only thirteen (13/82; 15.9%) of the total sample of OP sites contained medium
to high percentages of decorated serving vessels (>25%). 22 The high densities of OP decorated
serving vessels do not necessarily correspond to site size. On the other hand, these vessels are
associated with mortuary complexes and specific sectors of select sites.
Of these thirteen sites, certain settlements share attributes that distinguish them from all
of the others. Although there is no single site that dominates the entire region in terms of size or
architectural complexity, eight settlements (Huamanmarka [W-027], Wata [W-041], Sulkan [W043], Llactallactayoq-Huayllapata 23 [W-144], Huaylluhuayoq [W-149], Pumamarka [W-124],
Markaqocha [W-168] and Yanawara [W-176]) are distinguished from the surrounding sitesnot
necessarily by size, but by other variables, both qualitative and quantitative (see Appendix B).
These variables include: elaboration of domestic architecture, public or monumental architecture,
mortuary complexes, variation in architectural and mortuary structure morphology, total number
and density of buildings, density of surface-level artifacts, and/or later Inka elaboration. Relative
to surrounding sites, all of these settlements possess at least three of these criteria. With these

22

OP sites and serving vessel percentages per site were each categorized into four ranks using a classification
by natural breaks (jenks) method. The different categories (low, low-medium, high-medium, and high) that were
established for OP and Inka period samples are listed in Chapter One. Also, see Chapter One for a description of
general collection methods.
23

During the survey, Llactallactayoq and Huayllapata were originally registered as separate sites. Buildings
located at the boundary of each site are approximately 120m apart. Thus, in keeping with our arbitrary rule that
separate sites are located more than 100m apart from one another, we coded these are distinct. Subsequent analysis
of surface-level ceramics and architecture strongly suggests that these two sites were occupied at the same time, and
that perhaps Huayllapata was built a short time after Llactallactayoq. Differences in surface level ceramics suggest
that Huayllapata was the domestic sector of Llactallactayoq. Further research will indicate whether these sectors
were constructed, occupied, or abandoned coevally. In this chapter, I refer to this site solely as Llactallactayoq.

128

distinctions in mind, I employ the term town in referring to these settlements. This term is not
meant to reflect the size of these sites, or their place in a regional hierarchy. Indeed, three of
these settlements (Yanawara, Sulkan, and Huamanmarka) are relatively small (1 - 3ha). Rather,
the term town emphasizes how these places were most likely loci of specific kinds of meaningful
social activity (perhaps llactas), particularly as evidenced by the co-presence of high percentages
of decorated serving vessels and mortuary structures.
Here, I only use these macro-scale dots on a map (Smith 2003; M. Smith 2005) as an
analytical baseline from which to sketch the fundamental organizational contours of the
Ollantaytambo area and the social groups that inhabited it. It is necessary to further elucidate the
practices that defined these sites, particularly those practices that differentiated the towns from
other sites. Current theories hold that localized social organization in the centuries prior to Inka
rule was largely the product of drastic political economic and/or ecological changes. The
Ollantaytambo area history complicates this view, thus demanding consideration of how the
local organization of social groups was underpinned by a distinct set of cultural, social and
political practices.

The Historical Underpinnings of the OP Settlement Pattern

A look into the history of the area reveals whether these settlement clusters were
established in reaction to an external political power (Wari), or broad ecological changes. That
is, by examining occupational history and land use practices, we can begin to understand whether
and how the Ollanta Phase landscape was constituted relative to the climatic shifts and the
dramatic social and political transformations that swept through nearby Andean areas. If we find
129

that the Ollanta Phase settlement pattern is markedly different than preceding forms of spatial
and social organization, then it will appear as though this localized landscape was indeed a
response to broad external pressures. In contrast, if we find that the Ollanta Phase settlement
pattern is similar to the preceding spatial and social organization, then it would seem as though
localized organization is a longstanding social strategy in this region, rather than a passive
response to historical shifts.
Two expansive polities dominated much of the Andes during the eighth to the eleventh
century (Middle Horizon 24). Of greatest interest here is the Wari state, which built a massive
administrative center and several other settlements in the nearby Cusco Valley (Bauer 2004;
Covey 2006a; McEwan 1991, 1996, 2005).
The survey suggests that the Wari did not establish colonies, ceremonial sites or
administrative centers in the Ollantaytambo area. We documented thirty-two sites that were
occupied during the period of Wari state expansion. These sites were recognized by the presence
of stylesQotakalle and Arawaythat correspond to this time period (see Appendix B). 25 None

24

The preceding time period is called the Middle Horizon. This term is an application of the horizon
concept. It is a description of regional state standardization and dominance that neglects to consider local variability.
The Wari are the principal actors upon the south-central Andean Middle Horizon stage. Their claims to outright
regional domination are best reflected in the gargantuan and monumental architecture of their administrative city,
Pikillacta, which was situated in the Cusco Valley. Here, we are dealing with the problem of characterizing pottery
and sites in an area that does not contain the materials used to define this horizon.

25

Bauer (1999, 2002) provides numerous drawings and photos of these ceramic styles. Qotakalle is a local
Cusco style produced from circa 300-600 C.E. Throughout the ninth to the eleventh centuries (more or less), potters
within the Cusco Valley produced ceramics (Araway) that both emulated the forms and symbols of the dominating
Wari polity and reproduced local forms and aesthetic styles that had previously defined the Qotakalle style. Araway
ceramics are often used to identify the limits of Wari control or colonization (Bauer 2004). Produced in the Cusco
region, these Araway ceramics emulate the Wamanga style from the Wari capital near contemporary Ayacucho
(Glowacki 2005). Ongoing research on the Qotakalle and Middle Horizon in the Cusco area should clarify the role
of these objects within local politics.

130

of these sites contained the standard architectural forms that mark Wari administrative sites. 26
Moreover, Wari pottery was recovered at only two (six percent) of these sites, and constituted
less than one percent of the overall surface collected assemblage from those two sites. 27
Specifically, our surface collections recovered few Wari pottery sherds at Huamanmarka
and Kanaqchimpa, two large MH villages situated within the southern portion of the survey
zone. Notably, at these sites, Wari sherds were intermixed with high densities of finely
decorated, contemporaneous ceramic styles. Such contexts indicate that a few Wari objects may
have been incorporated into the practices of these villages; the general association of the Wari
objects with finely decorated local ceramics suggests that Wari pots may have operated as status
goods. Yet the context of these Wari objects, relative to high densities of local wares, also
suggests that Wari goods were not regular components of local practices. Their relative scarcity
implies that the Wari objects were not essential to local status, the constitution of value, or the
political constitution of the Ollantaytambo area.
Furthermore, excavations in the Ollantaytambo area have not uncovered any Wari
architecture, and only very small amounts of Wari ceramic sherds. Extensive excavations have
been conducted at numerous sites in the survey area, including (from south to north) Wata
(Cuba 2003, 2004; this study); Pachar Patawasi (Sols Diaz and Olabazal 1998); Ollantaytambo
(Gibaja 1984); Pumamarka (Kendall 1996). Since the distribution of standardized spaces and

26

Highly standardized architecture and material culture are generally taken to be indicative of Wari presence
or influence in other areas of the Cusco region (e.g. Bauer 2004; Covey 2006; Glowacki 2002; Glowacki and
McEwan 2001; McEwan 1987, 1991, 2005, 2006).
27

Overall, 261 Middle Horizon (MH) sherds were recovered throughout the survey. Many of these were
Araway sherds, which may have been produced in the Cusco Valley. See below for more information on the spatial
distribution of these Araway ceramics.

131

objects were essential to the institutional practices of the Wari state (e.g. Isbell and McEwan
1991), the dearth of such structures and materials in our survey suggests that the Ollantaytambo
area was outside of the Wari expansionary purview.
In addition to demonstrating minimal Wari governance or influence in this area, the
survey data also foreclose the possibility that the Ollantaytambo area was a periphery of the
Wari state during the centuries preceding the Ollanta Phase process of localization. Borrowed
into archaeology from contemporary political science and political geography (e.g. Wallerstein
2000; archaeological application by Algaze 1993; cf. Stein 1999), the term periphery implies
that certain areas are underdeveloped precisely because a powerful state assigned an
infrastructural role to such areas, for example the exportation of agricultural surplus or other
primary resource products to state administrative facilities within the core polity. 28 Following
this logic, if an area was rendered a periphery by a neighboring power, then we would expect to
see alterations in the local settlement pattern. In the Ollantaytambo area, such alterations would
include an increase in site establishment near potential resource zones, such as the rich valley
floor maize agricultural lands of the Vilcanota Valley.
In contrast to the periphery models expectations, settlement patterns in the
Ollantaytambo area remained remarkably stable throughout the centuries in which the Wari
staked a claim to regional sovereignty in the Cusco Valley. Indeed, what is most striking about
the Ollantaytambo area settlement pattern is its high degree of locational and occupational
continuity, regardless of site size or location (Figures 3.6, 3.7; site data in Appendix B). That is,

28

In many archaeological models of political expansion, frontier refers to an undeveloped area prior to its
incorporation into a regional polity, while periphery refers to an area that is underdeveloped due to its dependent
relation to a core area (e.g. Feinman and Nicholas 1990).

132

a localized settlement pattern of interlinked larger villages and small habitation or task-oriented
sites was maintained continuously from the Formative Period (ca. 1000 B.C.E.- 500 C.E.)
through the end of the Ollanta Phase. The majority (74%) of earlier sites were either expanded or
continually occupied throughout the OP. At these sites, densities of surface level pottery remain
more or less consistent through time, suggesting that occupational intensity was also maintained.

133

Figure 3.6: This map depicts occupational history from the Formative Period until the Ollanta Phase. Percent
change indices suggest fluctuations in occupational history a negative index (white triangles) reflects a
decrease in surface-level material from one time period to the next, while a positive index (white diamond)
reflects an increase. Relative to OP surface level artifact densities (black dots), the percent change indices suggest
that specific micro-regions and valleys were continually occupied, even as village locations changed within those
micro-regions (see occupational data in Appendix B).

134

Figure 3.7: This map depicts occupational history from the Middle Horizon until the Ollanta Phase. The percent
change indices also suggest the partial abandonment of some sites (Anapawa) and a decrease in the occupational
intensity of others (Kanaqchimpa) from the Middle Horizon to the Ollanta Phase. Yet overall, the data
demonstrate that select sites were continually occupied and perhaps expanded throughout these centuries. The
maps suggest that local issues i.e. shifting agro-pastoral activities and/or partial site abandonment influenced
slight changes in the regions social geography (see occupational data in Appendix B).

135

Most tellingly, no sweeping settlement shift or abandonment coincides with Wari

collapse in Cusco (ca. 1000-1100 C.E.). The Wari colonial center at Pikillacta was burnt and
abandoned during the eleventh century, signaling their withdrawal from the Cusco region
(McEwan 2005). Surface collections at a few sites (e.g. Kanaqchimpa) reveal a decrease in
artifact densities, but such sites were not abandoned. Indeed, throughout the survey area, only
one large village (Anapawa) was abandoned at this time, and it appears to have been at least
partially abandoned long before the Wari withdrawal from Cusco.
Anapawa, a large (~ 5 ha.) valley-floor settlement located downslope from Wata, was
abandoned. Yet it appears to have been abandoned before the time when Wata was expanded
into a larger town, and before Wari withdrawal from Cusco. Anapawa contained high densities
of Formative and Qotakalle ceramic sherds, yet very few MH (Araway) and OP pottery types.
But, there was no general abandonment of valley-floor sites throughout the region or the Wata
area. On the other hand, numerous valley-floor sites were expanded throughout the OP, and
several of these sites were located near Wata. Thus, the partial abandonment of Anapawa
appears to have been a historically contingent instance unrelated to Wari collapse.
Two conclusions may be drawn from these data. First, the Ollantaytambo area was not
subject to the commands and demands of Wari state power. The social geography of this region
was largely a product of local historical contingencies and processes. Second, the Wari horizon
in Cusco appears rather limited in geographical scope (see also Covey 2006a). This is not to say
that people within the Ollantaytambo area, free from direct colonization by the Wari state, were
also isolated from regional political interactions. In fact, the selective spatial distribution of nonlocal, and perhaps prestige objects, particularly Araway ceramics, indicates that the political and
136

social practices of the Ollantaytambo area were linked to a broader network of social relations,
even if the settlement and political organization of this area appears to have remained local (see
below). In short, the limited abandonment of sites in this area implies that the later settlement
pattern of the Ollanta Phase was more a reflection of local processes than a product of the
political economic changes brought on by Wari colonization and/or collapse.
If the political transformations wrought by Wari collapse in the broader Cusco region
cannot account for localized settlement patterns in the Ollantaytambo area, then we must
evaluate the other model put forth by archaeologists ecological or climate change. The period
preceding the Ollanta Phase witnessed drastic climate change, including a substantial drought.
Andean lake core data indicates that there was strikingly less rainfall during the tenth and
eleventh centuries. This phenomenon produced significantly lower levels at Markaqocha (ca. 900
C.E.), a small lake located in the WAP survey region 29 (Chepstow-Lusty et al. 1996, 2004), as
well as Lake Titicaca in southern Per (ca. 1050 C.E.) (Kolata et al. 1997; Ortloff and Kolata
1993). 30 Several researchers have hypothesized that such climatic conditions contributed to
drastic social transformations during the twelfth through fourteenth centuries, including the
abandonment of large state centers and their ideologies 31 (Kolata 2003), massive population
movement from valley floors to higher altitudes, and increased social circumscription leading to
29

Markaqocha is now more of a marsh than a lake. A site that was continually occupied from the Formative
to the Colonial Period sits at its edge.

30

In addition, ice core data from Quelccaya, a permanent glacier located near Cusco, are more or less
consistent with the results from Markaqocha, demonstrating that substantially warmer and drier climatic conditions
became regular throughout the Andes, beginning in the eleventh century around 1040 C.E. (Thompson et al. 1985,
1987, 1995). Such warmer and drier conditions may have affected some land use practices.

31

The climate changes correspond to the decline of the expansive Middle Horizon polities, centered at Wari
and Tiwanaku, and are thus oftentimes interpreted as primary causes of these polities dissolution (Binford and
Kolata 1996; Binford et al. 1997; Kolata 1996; Ortloff and Kolata 1993; cf. Erickson 1999).

137

conflict over available agricultural resources (Arkush 2005, 2008; Covey 2006a). Some
researchers have suggested that settlement location changed throughout the Andean twelfth and
thirteenth centuries due to the constraints of an increasingly dry environment 32 (e.g. DAltroy
1992). They argue that such a situation reflects a general shift to higher altitudes, from which
water sources spring, and a concomitant shift from the production of maize to the production of
quinoa and potatoes, two crops that do not require as much water as maize. 33 This shift in
agricultural practices is thought to have coincided with increased pastoralism. Alternatively,
other researchers suggest that drier conditions in part influenced a heightened concentration on
agricultural security, which may be evidenced through the construction of highly localized
terrace networks and irrigation canals, as documented in the Colca region (Wernke 2003). Such
interpretations can be tested in the Ollantaytambo area by looking at changes in settlement
patterns relative to altitude and land types, which provide a sketch of land use practices.
Land use analysis was conducted through GIS analysis of remotely sensed data (ASTER)
and field observations. The analysis sought to identify potential maize production terrain (MPT)
within the survey zone (see Chapter One). The study was especially concerned with quantifying
the area of potential agricultural lands, and assessing whether settlement patterns correspond to
optimal agricultural terrain. Here, only the total areas of MPT are presented.
Overall, the analysis does not indicate a shift in altitudinal site location, or any significant
changes in site location relative to optimal maize lands, classified as such by this study (Figure

32

The Inka origin myth is sometimes cited as evidence of how people roamed the land during this period,
looking for good agricultural land (Rostworowski 1999:6).
33

Maize requires 500-1000mm of water annually, while potatoes need at least 500mm. The hardiest of
Andean crops, quinoa can require as little as 300mm of rainwater annually (Treacy 1989; as cited in Wernke 2003:
48; see also Winterhalder 1993).

138

3.8). In fact, rather than a shift upward in settlement, the long-term history of this area reveals a
gradual downward movement toward the further exploitation of select lower lands.

Figure 3.8: OP settlements and serving vessel densities relative to potential maize production terrain. See
Appendix B for a complete list of sites.

139

The data thus demonstrate continuity in occupied areas and land use practices, despite
minor shifts in settlement location. Forty-four new sites were established throughout the OP (ca.
1000-1300 C.E.). The locations of these sites suggest the amplification of previous maize
agricultural practices, since the majority (29/44; 66%) of these new sites was built at lower
altitudes, a short walk (~500m) from flat and extensive plains containing rich alluvial soils
(MPT1). In a further illustration of overall land use continuity, the majority (71.4%) of the
continually occupied settlements were situated in areas that are a relatively short walk (~500m)
from all potential maize land (refer to Figures 3.7-3.9). These continually occupied settlements
all contained medium-high densities of both earlier (Formative and Qotakalle) and OP pottery
styles, suggesting that the intensity of occupation and perhaps the population of these settlements
remained constant over time. Overall, these data suggest that the spatiality and organization of
land use practices remained relatively consistent, thereby demonstrating that the dramatic climate
changes that have been recorded for the south-central Andes may have been mitigated by the
local social organization of this region. During the OP, clustered settlement may be related to an
increased concern with agricultural security, as documented in the Colca canyon (Wernke 2003),
yet there is no evidence to suggest that such clusters were a reaction or adaptation to climate
changes. Rather, the land use data strongly suggest that the settlement clusters were a longestablished local form of organization that perhaps provided for the socioeconomic security and
self-sufficiency of these groups. Here, we see the scale of local socioeconomic practices.
Although this period was broadly characterized by occupational continuity, the few
notable diachronic changes that did occur in local settlement location serve to further underscore
how local historic contingencies, rather than broad political economic or ecological processes,
140

influenced local settlement organization. For instance, surface collections at Wata indicate an
expansion of the sites size and occupational intensity during the twelfth century. In contrast,
surface collections at the nearby villages of Kanaqchimpa and Anapawa contained very few
diagnostic OP ceramic styles. 34 Moreover, in a stratigraphic sequence at Kanaqchimpa, a few
OP sherds were present in the upper stratum, yet in sharply diminishing quantity compared with
previous levels. 35 This strongly suggests that, after centuries of continuous habitation and
gradual village expansion, these two villages were partially abandoned. Partial abandonment
roughly coincided with the expansion of Wata into an agglutinated village. Yet such changes
did not occur in other areas of the survey, suggesting that these changes were local and
contingent, rather than general reactions to external pressures.
Indeed, although it is important to note overall continuity in settlement location and
organization throughout the area, not all continuously occupied places within the survey zone
34

Pottery from an earlier time period (Qotakalle) was recovered from both sites. The high density of these
sherds at these sites suggests that the sites were occupied centuries before the expansion of Wata in the OP. At
these sites, the Qotakalle pottery was interspersed with highly decorated Formative period sherds, demonstrating
temporal continuity in occupational history, as well as the continued variation in materials used within the Qotakalle
period, when Formative domestic wares were oftentimes still used as utilitarian vessels. The settlements contained
the highest density of Qotakalle period pottery (>10 ceramic sherds per m2) within the survey area. Also, the
relatively high densities of obsidian recovered from the surface of these settlements differentiates them from other
Formative and Qotakalle period settlements documented by the survey, which contain little to no obsidian. There is
no standing prehispanic architecture at either site, and so it is not possible to link these differences in material
culture to differences in the construction and layout of each site relative to other sites.
35

To further substantiate that these sites were defined by long-term occupational history, I profiled and drew
a large (3m x 16m) construction cut at Kanaqchimpa that bisected an ancient residential and midden area. The cut
revealed a high density continuous stratigraphy of 2.3m, containing Formative (Chanapata black, Chanapata red),
Qotakalle period, and Middle Horizon (Araway) ceramic sherds, mixed with animal bones, charcoal, and the
remains of two small residential walls. OP sherds were present in the upper stratum, yet in diminishing quantity
compared with the previous Middle Horizon, Qotakalle period, and Formative period levels (see drawing). The dark
grey-black hues of the thick middle strata are indicative of an intense occupation, suggesting domestic activities that
would have produced large quantities of organic material. Also, contemporary inhabitants, who had recently dug a
sewage canal, told and showed us how they had uncovered a similar density of artifacts in a proximate area. Thus,
for almost a millennium, this was a large and intensely occupied village. The stratigraphic data strongly suggest that
Kanaqchimpa was at least partially abandoned during the OP. Surface-level data from Anapahua depict a similar
occupational history, indicating that the settlement was abandoned prior to the OP, when Wata was established on a
neighboring mountain peak.

141

were transformed into OP towns. This was not a process of gradual evolution or continuous site
expansion. Indeed, the four OP towns developed out of relatively small Formative and Qotakalle
period settlements.
In sum, the diachronic data from both Wata and the survey indicate that the settlement
patterns in the Ollantaytambo area were largely about the elaboration and continuation of a
preexisting agro-pastoral way of life. Rather than an underdeveloped periphery, the data
illustrate that the Ollantaytambo area was characterized by local socioeconomic practices,
lacking regional centralization or settlement concentration around major resource areas. More
precisely, the settlement pattern and land use data from the Ollantaytambo area indicate that the
people of this area did not greatly change their agricultural practices, even in light of the
dramatic climate and political economic changes that affected the Andes in the eleventh and
twelfth centuries. Indeed, although the occupation of specific settlements waxed and waned, sites
continued to be established near the same agricultural and pastoral lands (refer to Figures 3.73.9). Thus, in the Ollantaytambo area, the minimal settlement shifts that occurred were most
likely linked to local social issues that affected individual sites and micro-regions, rather than
widespread regional political economic or ecological transformations.
These data both contrast and complement the occupational sequences and survey results
from other parts of the Cusco region. In the northeast Cusco area, Covey (2006a) posits that,
prior to Inka state formation, broad political economic and/or ecological processes influenced
drastic settlement pattern changes, characterized by the movement of valley floor populations to
higher altitude settings. But, similar to the patterns documented in the Ollantaytambo area, Bauer
recorded occupational continuity in the Cusco Valley (Bauer 2004) and the Paruro area, south of
142

Cusco (Bauer 1992). Adding the Ollantaytambo area data to these already established datasets
produces a striking depiction of variation in social processes among these neighboring regions.
That is, there is no single pattern of change that characterizes the entire Cusco region, as we
would expect if these populations were subject to general political economic or ecological
upheaval. This is not to say that ecological or political economic changes did not occur. Rather,
the comparative data suggest that variation in settlement patterns reflect local differences in
political organization, socioeconomic coordination, and historical context. I propose, then, that
the distinct form of settlement organization found within the Ollanta Phase is due to
sociopolitical processes of localizationi.e. the production of a discrete scale of local
organization and socioeconomic coordination. Further investigation will show how this local
sociological scale was linked to claims of political and economic autonomy. I will argue that the
people who inhabited the towns were making such claims.

Processes of Localization: Ollanta Phase Socioeconomic Practices and Land Use

A series of analyses were undertaken to gauge whether socioeconomic practices within
these settlement clusters were coordinated to ensure local socioeconomic autonomy and/or
agricultural security. First, documentation of the distribution of ceramic styles gauges whether
and how pottery production was organized locally. Second, a further look at the spatiality of the
settlement clusters assesses how agro-pastoral socioeconomic tasks were linked within specific
micro-regions. 36 Furthermore, consideration of the dichotomous distribution of the settlements
illustrates how these clusters were politically organized.
36

A micro-region is defined as an area that is of a broader spatial scale than any individual settlement yet a
tighter spatial scale than a typical settlement region (Yaeger and Canuto 2000:10; Wernke 2003). The micro-

143

An intensive analysis of surface-collected pottery sherds from sites within each

settlement cluster was undertaken to identify potential local differences in ceramic manufacture
and decoration techniques. That is, although there are certain general OP pottery types and
decorative motifs (e.g. Ollanta Black on Buff), the analysis gauged whether there were more
localized variants that defined each settlement cluster, therefore revealing the local production of
pottery. Thus, in this analysis, different pottery types are used to gauge socioeconomic practices,
not social or ethnic groups. The latter assumption that pots are people has been heavily
criticized (e.g. Binford 1965; Clarke 1968, 1979; Conkey 1991; Dietler and Herbich 1998; Jones
1997). The analysis considered a sample of 746 decorated non-serving vessels, and 565
decorated serving vessels. The entire surface-collected sample was divided into these two groups
because, during the initial classification of serving and non-serving vessels, it became clear that
different decorative techniques were often applied to different vessel forms. Seventeen
macroscopic ceramic attributes were recorded. 37
The analysis found no significant differences in manufacture techniques (inclusion
measurements, oxidation), rim forms, or decorative motifs. Thus, some broad aesthetic and
technological trends characterized pottery production among these settlement clusters. And,

region is thus a concept that provides information from an intermediate spatial scale that may correspond to multisettlement or multi-centered communities, and therefore can be employed in order to mitigate the problematic
assumptions of settlement hierarchies, as well as problematic culture-historical assumptions related to the
territoriality of ethnicity in ancient societies. See also Carol Smiths (1976: 6) similar application of the term
region as a spatial scale that mediates between macro- and micro-level sociological contexts.
37

The macroscopic study considered the following attributes: Form; Decorative motif; Paste Color;
Oxidation; Texture; Hardness; Inclusion size; Inclusion percentage; Inclusion roundness; Inclusion type; Mica
percentage; Burnishing; Slipping; External Surface Treatment; Internal Surface Treatment; Rim diameter (if
possible); Rim form.

144

these similarities suggest some degree of interaction or shared knowledge among the people who
produced these pottery styles.
On the other hand, the analysis revealed the localized distribution of paste colors, as well
as specific kinds of external surface treatment, particularly slipping and heavy burnishing. Many
sherds present a cream-colored slip applied over a red or orange paste. In addition, numerous
sherds have a characteristic heavy burnishing pattern that yields the appearance of deep vertical
grooves etched into the surface of a pot (refer to Figure 3.3, middle picture). These decorative
techniques correspond to the Ollanta phase pottery type in general. Yet variation in these
techniques suggests localized pottery production. In fact, chi-square analyses show that there are
significant differences in the spatial distribution of these two attributes (Figures 3.9-3.12). 38 For
instance, we find that non-serving and serving vessels in the Pumamarka cluster typically display
heavy burnishing, while non-serving and serving vessels at the Yanawara cluster are not
burnished in this way. The other two clusters contained fairly even amounts of non-serving
vessels displaying such burnishing. Moreover, we find that non-serving vessels and serving
vessels at Kachiqhata are typically slipped, thus differentiating this clusters sample from all of
the others. Altogether, these data suggest that socioeconomic pottery production practices were
organized locally.

38

Chi-square analyses tested differences in decorated non-serving vessel sherds and differences in serving
vessels sherds, by settlement cluster. All differences were significant at the 0.01 alpha level. Three paste colors were
common throughout the survey area: Yellowish Red (MUNSELL 2.5YR 5/6); Reddish Yellow (7.5YR 6/6); and
Light Yellowish Brown (10YR 6/4). Differences in the three paste colors among decorated non-serving vessels from
the settlement clusters: X2 = 1.91; df= 6. Differences in paste color among decorated serving vessels from the
settlement clusters: X2 = 1.47; df= 6. Differences in slipping among decorated non-serving vessel sherds: X2 = 1.363;
df= 3. Differences in burnishing among decorated non-serving vessel sherds: X2 = 83.228; df= 3. Differences in
slipping among decorated serving vessel sherds: X2 = 1.303; df= 3. Differences in burnishing among decorated nonserving vessel sherds: X2 = 59.608; df= 3.

145

Figure 3.9: Settlement cluster areas used for the ceramic analysis.

Figure 3.10: These pictures illustrate, from left: Ollanta Black on Buff( slipped); Ollanta Black on Red (heavy
burnishing, not slipped); Ollanta Black and Red on Buff (slipped with heavy burnishing).

146

Figure 3.11: These graphs illustrate patterns in decorative attributes of pottery derived from the four settlement
clusters in the survey zone (n = 1311 sherds; 746 decorated non-serving and 565 decorated serving vessels).

Area

Non-SV
Slip

Non-SV
No Slip

Non-SV
Burnish

Non-SV
No Burnish

SV
Slip

SV
No Slip

SV
Burnish

SV
No Burnish

Wata

22

90

41

71

66

32

36

Kachiqhata

280

120

179

221

245

106

164

187

Pumamarka

33

95

101

27

17

51

58

10

Yanawara

47

59

24

82

38

40

17

61

Total

382

364

345

401

302

263

271

294

Figure 3.12: Raw counts of different ceramic decoration types per settlement cluster area.

147

In addition, we can further gauge how these clusters were socioeconomically organized
by attending to the agricultural and pastoral land use practices that were employed during the
Ollanta Phase. The use of specific lands can be read through an analysis of the location of newly
established sites relative to land use categories. Within the settlement clusters, we find that the
large majority of newly established sites are situated within a short walk of both the local town
and select maize production lands they are situated in reference to intensively used local lands.
This pattern is particularly evident in the southern Vilcanota River cluster. In this area, numerous
small sites were constructed on relatively steep slopes. These sites were situated near the
principal town of Llactallactayoq. The lower areas of this cluster, including numerous knolls and
gradually sloping hills, were not occupied. Such a pattern is also evident in the Wata area,
throughout which several well-watered alluvial soils remained unoccupied during the same time
period in which numerous settlements were built on the slopes proximate to Wata. New sites
were established in and around areas already occupied by the towns, suggesting that aggregation
around these places was a principal concern. Thus, rather than proximity to agricultural
resources, the location of newly established OP sites was influenced by a perceived need for
increased settlement proximity, perhaps linked to both concerns agricultural security or risk
reduction (e.g. Covey 2006a; Wernke 2003), as well as the establishment and maintenance of
localities and/or culturally valued places like the larger towns.
What is more, a look at overall land use reveals that socioeconomic practices such as
pastoralism and maize agriculture were deliberately limited to lands directly associated with each
town. That is, it would seem as though the agents directing settlement construction most likely
the inhabitants of the towns themselves insisted that new sites were built near the towns.
148

During the OP, the area around each town was densely occupied while several more distant wellwatered and rich alluvial soils remained vacant (refer to Figure 3.9). Extensive agricultural
strategies were not employed during this time period. 39 The spatial distribution of these newly
established settlements illustrates how socioeconomic tasks are oriented toward the intensive use
of long-utilized and sharply localized agro-pastoral lands, rather than the extensive maximization
of agricultural resources. More importance was placed on settlement aggregation around the
towns and less importance was placed on the transformation or appropriation of land within areas
that were seen as socio-culturally or geographically distant from each town. It appears as though
the towns, and the interests of the people that lived in them, rather than the location of available
or especially good agricultural land, influenced settlement organization in this area.
The organization of these production activities demonstrates how the settlement clusters
are products of deliberate strategies of social circumscription and social aggregation around
traditional agricultural and pastoral lands, as well as preexisting places. The expanses of
unoccupied agricultural and pastoral land suggest that these clusters were not produced relative
to processes of environmental circumscription i.e. broad climate change or resource scarcity, as
suggested by many models of pre-state politics (e.g. Carneiro 1970). By implication, and
contrary to accounts of pre-Inka populations warring over scarce lands (Earle 1997, 2002), if
there was any conflict or warfare during the Ollanta Phase, then resource scarcity does not seem
to be the cause.

39

The extensive unoccupied lands included the Pachar area near the confluence of the Huarocondo and
Vilcanota Rivers, as well as the extensive alluvial shelf where the Inka city of Ollantaytambo would later be
constructed.

149

Furthermore, the scale of socioeconomic localization can be seen in the distinct

dichotomous settlement organization of these clusters. Sites within each of the clusters were
arranged so as to coordinate socioeconomic activities within restricted areas, while highlighting
the significance of the pre-established places (towns). Indeed, there is an intimate relationship
between these sites, defined by differences in practices. Within the clusters, settlements are more
or less evenly distributed relative to land categories. 40 Many of smaller sites (68%) were situated
within a short walk (500-1000m) of either maize agricultural land or high puna pastoral land.
Their location suggests that these sites were loci for agricultural and pastoral production, perhaps
residences of farmers. For heuristic purposes, I refer to them as residential sites.
Our surface collections reveal that all of these residential sites contained very low
densities of OP decorated storage or serving vessel sherds and high densities of undecorated OP
style utilitarian vessels (see Appendix B). 41 The dearth of serving vessel sherds suggests that
these sites did not contain the kinds of collective or ceremonial activities that defined the towns
(see below). Indeed, although the people living in these residential sites possessed a few
decorated OP vessels, they typically employed plain black or red utilitarian wares in their daily
practices. 42 So, it appears as though, during the OP, access to certain objects was restricted.

40

By land categories I refer to different kinds of land suitable for maize agriculture, quinoa cultivation,
tuber production, and pastoralism.
41

Undecorated OP pottery is identified by its deep red paste, medium-large gravel and quartzite inclusions,
and most importantly, heavily grooved exterior. Such grooving is common to both decorated and undecorated
vessels from this time period. A few rim types were common to the utilitarian pottery.
42

The smaller sites typically contain low densities of serving vessels relative to other forms. The majority of
these sites contain only one or two decorated serving vessel sherds; the percentages of decorated serving vessels
within these sites range from 0 to 25% with a mean of 11.1%. On average, only 15 sherds were collected at each of
these sites. Undecorated utilitarian and non-diagnostic wares largely characterize such smaller sites. These results
may be skewed, due to the possibility that these sites were only seasonally occupied. Further excavation and

150

Moreover, in comparison with the towns, these residential sites do not contain tombs of
any type. Altogether the data show that the majority of the OP sites were primarily places for
domestic and farming and pastoral practices.
In contrast, the towns all contain evidence for markedly different kinds of practices
suggestive of collective ceremonialism. In the analysis, the towns were distinguished from the
other sites in three main ways: ceramic style and distribution; architectural style; and
occupational history. These data broadly suggest that towns were socially distinguished from the
other sites due to recognizable differences in spatial practices, including the spatial aggregation
of buildings and the staging of certain kinds of secondary production and consumption
practices. 43 Specifically, the towns appear to have been loci of ceremonial social and political
practices such as feasting and ancestor veneration practices rendered exclusive because they
were limited to the space of the towns themselves.
The towns are defined by higher percentages of decorated serving vessels, as well as
decorated sherds. 44 An example of this case, several excavation contexts within Wata revealed
high densities of OP serving vessels associated with high densities of charred camelid bones (see

investigation of sites within these clusters will reveal much more than is possible at this time. For the moment,
though, it is important to note that there is a localized mode of production occurring within these clusters.
43

The survey region contained many sites with remarkably well-preserved architecture. However,
architecture at all of the towns was at least partially transformed and/or rebuilt during the early days of the Cusco
polity (ca. 1350 C.E.). Since some local construction styles were carried over into later periods, and some earlier
buildings were likely refurbished in the new regional styles, it is currently difficult to ascertain the age of domestic
buildings from sight alone. Thus, lacking excavation contexts or absolute dates from buildings in most of these
towns, I remain cautious and conservative, solely classifying as OP the circular and D-shaped buildings that
conform to the attributes that were described at the beginning of the chapter.
44

The towns typically contain high densities of serving vessels relative to other forms. These sites contain
one or two serving vessel sherds per square meter of the overall site, with such vessels concentrated in specific
areas. The percentages of serving vessels range from 26 to 65% with a mean of 43.4%. On average, 42 OP decorated
serving vessels were collected at these sites.

151

Chapter Four). Moreover, excavations in the central area of Wata revealed a continuous
stratigraphy from the Formative into the OP (Cuba 2003, 2004; Chapter Four). Our excavations
in a midden that adjoins this area (WAP Unit 11) revealed a very high density of camelid bones
associated with a mixture of Formative and OP serving vessel fragments, indicating that the
same area and the same buildings most likely constituted an area for consumption activities over
a period of centuries. The excavation data provide support for the surface collections. And
overall, these data suggest that, in comparison to smaller residential sites of production, specific
towns operated as exclusive loci for collective consumption events.
Within four of these towns, the collective consumption events were associated with
distinct, spatially segregated areas. Indeed, the surface collections reveal an internal division of
space at Wata, Llactallactayoq, Markaqocha and Yanawara. Architectural preservation varied
between the sites. But, all of these sites contained at least two discrete clusters of OP decorated
serving vessels (see surface collection map of Wata in Chapter Four). These clusters were often
associated with both residential and mortuary sectors. Clearly, collective consumption was an
important part of social life at these towns.
In addition, the towns contained styles of OP ceramics that were not recovered in any
other contexts. Particularly, Ollanta Black and Red on Buff serving and storage vessels were
only recovered at the towns. 45 For instance, in our excavations at Wata this style was found in

45

Ollanta Black and Red on Buff ceramics share aesthetic characteristics with the earlier Araway style
especially loosely painted wavy lines. Our excavation data from Wata suggests that this style was most likely
produced in the OP, perhaps as an imitation of the earlier Araway style. Such sherds were found in sealed contexts,
including two OP storage units that were filled with debris and decommissioned toward the end of the OP (Units 15
and 16; Chapter Five. In these contexts, Ollanta Black and Red on Buff ceramics were associated with high densities
of other OP sherds. At present, the data strongly suggest that these were emulation vessels that were produced and
used in local contexts throughout the OP. Thus, further research and much more fine-grained research will be
necessary if we are to understand whether these Ollanta Black and Red on Buff ceramics were produced locally.

152

contexts containing high densities of decorated serving vessels and animal bones, suggesting that
it was discarded along with materials that would have been incorporated in collective
consumption events.
Apart from their high densities of OP serving vessels, the towns were the only sites
within the survey that contained particularly high densities of Araway ceramics a serving
vessel type 46 that was broadly used throughout the Cusco region during the tenth and eleventh
centuries. Only about fourteen percent (11/82) of the OP sites recorded throughout the survey
contained Araway pottery, indicating that there was a significant yet discriminatory distribution
of these ceramics within the Ollantaytambo area (Figure 3.13). The majority of these sites
contained only a few Araway ceramic sherds relative to earlier (Qotakalli) and later (OP) styles,
demonstrating that Araway were relatively rare objects in this area. In fact, Araway ceramics
were almost exclusively restricted to the towns, which all contained high densities of this type
relative to other serving vessel types (Figure 3.13). Moreover, excavations at Wata revealed
Araway ceramics within the same contexts as OP serving vessel types, suggesting their
contemporaneous use. 47 Since Araway vessels are surely imported, non-local wares, the data
thus suggest that people living in the towns participated in a broad sphere of social interaction.
These extra-local connections suggest the elevated status of town inhabitants.

46

Examination of the form and morphology of Araway ceramics suggests that are serving vessels, especially
bowls. These ceramics did not display the burn marks that would have resulted from being placed in a fire, or having
something burnt within them. Therefore, the Araway ceramics that were used in this area do not seem to have been
used either for cooking, or as containers for a burnt offering

47

Moreover, our excavations at Wata suggest that Araway ceramics were included in feasting events.
Within Wata, Araway ceramics were solely recovered in contexts that included high densities of finely decorated
ceramic serving vessels, as well as high densities of faunal remains, particularly charred camelid (llama and alpaca)
bones.

153

Figure 3.13: This map shows the distribution of Qotakalle and Araway ceramic sherds within the survey area.
The distribution of Araway sherds and the broader sphere of interaction that they represent appears to be
linked to the development of some of the OP towns. See Appendix B for a complete list of sites.

154

Monumental architecture seems to have played no role in producing these towns as

distinct spaces. While five of these sites now contain large perimeter walls, 48 the data indicate
that at least some of these walls were constructed during the early Inka period 49 (ca. 1300-1400
C.E.; see Chapter Four). However, our study did find that there are significant local variations in
architecture that correspond to three of the towns considered in this chapter (Wata,
Llactallactayoq, Pumamarka), but not to domestic sites within the clusters. 50 That is, there is an
idiosyncratic domestic architectural style at three of the towns that makes them similar to one
another, yet different than surrounding domestic structures in the smaller residential sites. Across
the survey region, houses within the smaller residential sites share a similar suite of stylistic and
technological attributes. Houses at these smaller sites are typically circular, do not sit on
platforms or terraces, and have walls that are un-coursed and approximately 40cm wide. Houses
at the towns are also typically circular or D-shaped (Figure 3.14), yet also can have a more oval
shape a rectangle with rounded corners and are typically situated on small platforms or
terraces. Although seemingly minor when compared with the ceramic data, these differences in

48

Wata, Pumamarka, Yanawara, Sulkan and Llactallactayoq have large perimeter walls. However, it is
worthy of note that two of these walls Sulkan and Yanawara are situated between the central area of the town
and an uphill slope. The position of these walls calls into question whether they were constructed for defensive
purposes. The wall at Llactallactayoq has a similar, non-defensive position it is situated directly between the site
of Llactallactayoq and the nearby site of Huayllapata, the latter located only ~100 meters beyond the boundary of
the wall.
49

Two of these walls (Wata and Pumamarka) contain attributes of Inka architecture, including a wall width
of 80-100cm, double coursing, quoins at corners, double-jamb doorways, a zig-zag pattern, a slight inward batter,
and trapezoidal doorways. These characteristics will be further explained in the following chapter. My radiocarbon
dates from the wall at Wata are place its construction in the late fourteenth century or early fifteenth century (see
Chapter Four).
50

The WAP also recorded the architectural attributes of 324 pre-Inka domestic structures. In this sense, preInka was defined as any domestic structure that does not conform to Classic Inka architectural styles (see Gasparini
and Margolies 1980). Typically, pre-Inka buildings have more narrow walls, are circular or D-shaped, and do not
incorporate cut or fitted stone.

155

architectural attributes again underscore the material differences between towns and smaller
sites. These data suggest that (1) there was a common way of producing domestic architecture
that cross-cut the socio-spatial differences of the clusters, and (2) differences between the towns
and the surrounding sites were more salient than differences within the towns.

Figure 3.14: D-Shaped houses (left) and agglutinated structures (right) were only documented at the towns.

Besides qualitative differences in architecture and artifacts, the towns are different from
surrounding sites in terms of their occupational history. Our surface collections indicate that all
of these settlements were continually occupied since the Formative period, then expanded and
elaborated throughout the OP. Dates from three of these towns support the surface collection
data, indicating that all of these sites were established at least one thousand years prior to their
expansion during the Ollanta Phase. For instance, two radiocarbon assays from deep strata within
one of our excavation units at Wata indicates that this town was already an active settlement in

156

the first millennium B.C.E (Chapter Four). 51 Moreover, radiocarbon dates derived from
Pumamarka, Llactallactayoq, and Kachiqhata suggest coeval occupation (Figure 3.15, Table 3.2).
In short, the towns represent the continuation and elaboration of a preexisting way of life.
In contrast to many other Andean regions and LIP agglutinated settlements, these towns were not
abruptly established during a time when people were more generally moving on up to higher
locales (compare with Arkush 2007, 2009; Covey 2006; Dean 2005; DAltroy 1992; DAltroy
and Hastorf 2001). These data largely suggest that the towns were spaces for exclusive objects
(special pottery types) and spaces for exclusive practices (feasting, high densities of serving
vessels and distinct architecture).

Figure 3.15: Published radiocarbon dates that correspond to the Ollanta Phase. (References for the dates: K
Kosiba, this study; B98 Bengsston 1998; H87 Hollowell 1987; K96 Kendall 1996).
51

Three radiocarbon measurements were derived from Formative period contexts. These three measurements
indicate that Wata was first occupied in the seventh or eighth century B.C.E. The calibrated ranges for these three
Formative period dates are 3 to 118 C.E., 787 to 555 B.C.E., and 766 to 543 B.C.E. (68.2%) (OxCal 4.1).

157

SITE

LAB no.

Associated
Ceramics

C14
Age

Source

Pumamarka

SI6986

None

94040 BP

Hollowell 1987

Calibrated
Date (68.2%)
C.E.
1020-1160

Llactallactayoq Q3090

LIP

91550 BP

Kendall 1996

1030-1190

Wata

AA82091

OP

74736 BP

WAP

1229-1285

Wata

AA85885

OP

77238 BP

WAP

1230- 1299

Pumamarka

SI6987

None

71055 BP

Hollowell 1987

1250-1390

Kachiqhata

Ua1709

Inka

70065 BP

Bengtsson 1998

1260-1390

Pumamarka

SI6988B
SI6988A

None

64545 BP
66050 BP

Hollowell 1987

1295-1395
1280-1390

Kachiqhata

SI6990

None

64055 BP

Hollowell 1987

1295-1395

Table 3.2: This table lists the published and WAP radiocarbon dates taken from architectural structures at a
sample Ollanta Phase sites. The associated ceramic styles indicate re-use of the sites throughout successive
periods (see Chapter Four; see complete table of Cusco region dates in Bauer 2004).

We see here a kind of localized social organization that is firmly rooted in highly
localized agro-pastoral land usein practices of the soil. That is, the spatiality of settlements
within distinct micro-regions coincides with both an explicit concern with the occupational
continuity of specific places, as well as the coordination of socioeconomic activities, like maize
agriculture and camelid pastoralism, that linked towns with surrounding sites. The array of
potential activities in each cluster, relative to agricultural and pastoral lands, suggests that the
158

spatiality of local settlement organization provided for socioeconomic self-sufficiency through

the localized complementarity of agropastoral socioeconomic practices (see also Wernke 2006a,
2006b). Smaller sites appear to be places of socioeconomic production activities maize
agriculture and pastoralism and were located along the fringes of each cluster. Towns appear to
be centers of population and loci of distinct ceremonial practices linked to social reproduction.
In comparison with surrounding OP sites, mortuary complexes and high densities of
decorated OP vessels imply that these practices involved rites of social regeneration and
reproduction, such as ancestor veneration. In fact, the towns themselves may have been
residences for an emerging elite and their kin, like the chiefly bohos of ancient Panama that
were set apart from the smaller habitation sites of commoners (Helms 1979: 9). At this point, it is
apparent that they were spaces produced through certain political practices. These practices
contributed to a perception of the towns as exclusive spaces, rendering them political.
During the OP, then, these towns were largely produced as distinct spaces by the use of
exclusive objects and spatial practices. In these practices, claims to local autonomy were staked.
A deeper understanding of such claims, and their claimants, is therefore necessary.

Producing a Region of Localities: The Distribution of Mortuary Practices and Places

Consideration of the practices that defined towns reveals a high degree of shared norms,
especially with regards to ceremonial practices and particular spaces. Here I focus on mortuary
practices. Embedding ones ancestors within a specific place can be a claim to local autonomy, a
way of ritually establishing a link between certain people and a certain place (e.g. McAnany
1995: 8; Renfrew 1976, 1983). The regularized propitiation and feting of such ancestors
159

strengthens this claim, amplifying it to a political declaration about the history of a place and a
people, or the continual transcendental and traditional correspondence between a people and
a place (Renfrew 1983). In short, mortuary practices produce both the people and the place,
while declaring that authority is embedded in place.
Numerous anthropologists have theorized about the political implications of ancestor
veneration and mortuary practices. Initially, within the culture history paradigm, mortuary
practices were interpreted as a reflection of broad cultural norms they were an instantiation of
tradition that occurred within a specific culture area. In contrast, Renfrew (1976) referred to
burial monuments in Neolithic Western Europe as tombs for the living, meaning that such
tombs were more than containers of the dead, but also material markers of political claims to
territory. Barrett (1994) both extends and complicates Renfrews (1976) interpretation, claiming
that these shifts in tomb morphology and mortuary practice were part of a project of landscape
making that is, these practices do not just mark the boundaries of territory; they produce places.
A look at the mortuary landscape of the Ollantaytambo area demonstrates how, in mortuary
practices, local elites staked claims to particular places, assembled notions of local tradition, and
perhaps ironically, contributed to the construction of the regional social practices that would later
undergird the nascent Inka state.
The veneration of ancestors within open and aboveground tomb complexes was a new
political practice that emerged in the Cusco area and the Andean region during the twelfth to the
fourteenth centuries (Bengsston 1998; Covey 2006a, 2008; Dean 2005; Hiltunen and McEwan
2004; Isbell 1997; McEwan et al. 2002). Earlier sites do not contain these kinds of tombs, which
are often aboveground structures built within open spaces, each featuring an accessible doorway.
160

Such attributes distinguish the tombs from much more concealed subterranean tombs and
mortuary rooms of the Wari 52 (see Isbell 2004; McEwan 2005). These aboveground and
accessible tombs made the fully-articulated mummies of ancestors into publicly visible and
tangible actors that, through their interment and re-interment, actually participated in collective
consumption events. In examining the spatial distribution of these open tombs, we add an
important thread to our study of OP social and political practices. That is, the distribution of
these tombs suggests how different practices of ancestor veneration contributed to the
establishment of authority within these localized settlement clusters.
In the Ollantaytambo area, open tombs were often built within discrete places, and
associated with specific kinds of settlements. To study the distribution of these tombs, we
defined three tomb site types. Sites containing ten or more tomb structures clustered within a
discrete area (< 1ha) were classified as tomb complexes (Figure 3.16). Interspersed tomb
sites were typically comprised of five to ten tombs sparsely distributed among agricultural
terraces or residential structures. Finally, isolated tomb sites consisted of one to three mortuary
structures that were not linked to specific sites or settlements.
Both open and closed tombs were documented within these tomb site types. In open
tombs, the dead were housed in spatially separated, and oftentimes walled, singular mortuary
chambers (Figure 3.17). Closed tombs typically consisted of a rock fissure that was blocked off
with stones (Figure 3.16).

52

Indeed, Isbell (2004: 28) states that Wari ancestor veneration practices were significantly different than
these later practices. Wari practices entailed the interment of the dead in subterranean rooms. They were not
removed from these loci. Nor were they kept in a public or visible place.

161

Figure 3.16: Two contrasting tomb types. Closed tombs were often scattered throughout hillsides (left). Discrete
complexes of individual tombs (right) were often linked to townsthis complex is situated directly below Wata.

The open tombs were in part characterized by stylistic idiosyncrasies in architecture.

Amongst the various types of tombs found throughout the region, the most common are
individual tombs: namely, tower tombs, cist tombs, cliff tombs, and pirca box tombs.53 Tower
tombs are short (1-1.5m high) circular or square structures made from un-worked fieldstone and
often capped with a corbelled stone roof (Figure 3.17). Cist tombs are much like tower tombs,
yet are much shorter and are semi-subterranean. Cliff tombs feature discrete doorways cut into a
cliffside, typically a gypsum or quartzite bluff (Figure 3.17). Pirca box tombs are small square
structures made from fieldstone and adobe. The pirca box tombs recorded in this survey were
painted red. Radiocarbon dates from several open tower tomb structures at two towns
Llactallactayoq and Markaqochaindicate that these structures were first constructed and used
in the twelfth century (Bengsston 1998).
53

Surface collections conducted in the immediate vicinity of these tomb complexes recovered high densities
of OP pottery sherds. Some ceramics from later periods (Inka) were mixed with the OP sherds, suggesting that these
structures may have been used and re-used. In this sense, the tombs that are labeled as OP are those that contained
evidence for the initial OP production and utilization of the site, gauged from the array of OP diagnostic ceramics
that were associated with individual tombs. The tombs that are discussed in this section contained high ratios of OP
to later period ceramics (an average of 4:1).

162

Figure 3.17: Local variations on a theme pictured here are the more common open tomb types documented
throughout the survey zone. Tower tombs (above left and right) were situated near the Vilcanota River, and were
often built aboveground or next two large boulders. Cliff tombs (below left) were often documented in the
Huarocondo canyon, and were usually clustered beneath vertical rock faces. Pirca box tombs (below right) were
recorded in the Yanawara area, and were painted red and situated on hillsides and beneath rock outcrops.

These tomb styles clearly distinguish different clusters, although they are not exclusive to
specific clusters (Figure 3.18). That is, tower tombs are significantly associated with both
clusters (Llactallactayoq and Pumamarka-Markaqocha) within the northern portion of the
Ollantaytambo area near the Vilcanota river. Cliff and cist tombs characterize the southern
portion near Wata. Pirca box tombs are found only within the Yanawara area. These stylistic
differences in mortuary architecture morphology may reflect claims of local social autonomy and
identity (see also Covey 2008; Sillar and Dean 2002).
163

Figure 3.18: This map shows the distribution of mortuary architecture styles throughout the survey area.
Different mortuary styles clearly correspond to the different settlement clusters, perhaps distinguishing local
social groups.

164

But, despite the stylistic differences, there are marked similarities in how mortuary
practices were staged within each cluster. OP tomb complexes were only situated within and/or
near the towns (Figure 3.19). In many of the towns, the tomb complexes thus seem to emphasize
the social interrelation and localization of spaces of death (mortuary complex) and life (towns).
First, similarities in the internal spatiality of these complexes are significant. Often
located near the towns (e.g. Wata, Llactallactayoq, Markaqocha, Sulkan), tomb complexes are
discrete areas that are physically distanced from the towns main habitation areas (see example in
Figures 3.20, 3.21; also see Chapter Four for examples of the Wilkapata tomb complex at
Wata). The tomb complexes often contain large platforms upon which multiple individual
tombs are situated. Many tower tombs often have a small platform attached to the tomb structure,
and a wall that surrounds this platform. Such kinds of spatial demarcation suggest that these
areas were marked and restricted, and only certain activities or people were allowed therein.
The location of the tomb complexes suggests that the tangibility and visibility of the
physically dead was important to the staging of ancestor propitiation ceremonies. There are no
OP mortuary complexes that are physically detached from the towns. Open plaza areas within
each mortuary complex are clearly visible from the main habitation area of each town. Often,
tomb complexes were situated in highly visible areas that frame a particular entranceway to
particular sites. By situating the tombs in this way, the people of this area made the dead a visible
aspect of their living towns, as if the ancestors were aiding in the protection of particular places,
and/or marking boundaries. 54

54

The integration of tombs into site boundaries (often perimeter walls) continued to be a salient architectural
feature of some early Inka period sites in the Cusco area, e.g. the ceremonial site and fortress at Wata, as well as the
monumental Inka royal estates of Pisac and Tipn.

165

Figure 3.19: This map illustrates the distribution of open tomb complexes, illustrating how such complexes are
almost exclusively associated with OP towns. See Appendix B for a complete list of tomb sites.

166

Figure 3.20: The spatial layout of Markaqocha provides but one example of the OP trend of building discrete
tomb complexes near the towns. Radiocarbon dates from grass embedded in the mortar of both houses and tombs
from Markaqocha verify that these structures were built or used during the OP (see Appendix A).

Figure 3.21: View of the tomb complex from the OP town at Markaqocha.

167

Second, our surface collections suggest that these mortuary complexes hosted similar
kinds of practices. High densities of decorated serving vessels were located within and near 55 the
platform spaces of mortuary complexes. In fact, there is a statistically significant relation
between tomb complexes and higher densities of OP serving vessels (percentages of OP serving
vessels in each tomb sector assemblage; Pearsons r = .753, n = 34; significance at 0.01 level).
Serving vessel percentages from all tomb sites were also reclassified as categories using natural
breaks (jenks) in the data set. A chi-square test reveals a highly significant correlation between
tomb complexes and high densities of serving vessels (X2=33.298; df=6; significance at the 0.001
level), as well as a patterned correlation between tomb site type and densities of decorated OP
serving vessels (Figures 3.22; Appendix B). The high densities of decorated serving vessels in
these tomb complexes suggest feasting ceremonies were staged in these spaces.

Figure 3.22: Correlation between tomb site types and OP serving vessel densities.
55

Sometimes we collected sherds in areas downslope from the platforms in order to take erosion into
account. This was especially necessary at Wata, where the mortuary complex was located on the summit of a
mountain, and was thus highly eroded (and looted).

168

In sum, the mortuary data imply that the OP was defined by localized affective ties
between people and places claims of continuity in place and over time. Despite stylistic
variation in mortuary architecture, we see that similar common mortuary practices were
culturally constituted in similar ways within these separate OP towns. The similarities include:
(1) the spatial proximity of open tombs to towns, (2) the restricted and exclusive spatiality of
tomb complexes, (3) the intervisibility of tomb complexes and towns, and (4) the kinds of
collective consumption practices that were associated with these tomb complexes. These
mortuary practices relied upon an intimate relationship between ancestors, open spaces and
communal food consumption. Thus, even though they were claiming local distinctions, people in
various towns were invoking the same logic and the same practicesalthough separate claims to
locality were being made, they were being made in the same ways.
Claims to authority and autonomy were thus performed at towns, in these specific
ceremonial practices. Most likely, local elites or kin groups developed a set of practices through
which their claims to local authority and autonomy could be recognized. That is, I argue that
these practices were not simply passive expressions of local culture and/or social identity, but
rather political actions. These practices added to the social practices of the soil that were
described in the previous section on socioeconomic localization. And so, by attaching their
ancestors to particular places, local people staked claims to autonomy and authority by declaring
a link between their blood and the soil.
This interpretation is not meant to replace a problematically bloody rendering of the
pre-Inka world with an equally problematic, rosy view. Of course, the people of this area may
have engaged in raiding or other forms of social conflict. But, these conclusions redirect our
169

attention from a vision of pre-Inka social groups sequestered in massive fortresses (pukaras), and
the assumptions entailed by that research focus. Instead, the data reveal how, throughout these
centuries in the south central Andes, certain towns (llactas) came to be the spaces through which
claims to local social authority and tradition were made through: (1) the organization of local
socioeconomic activities, and (2) a kind of ceremonial activity in which autonomy was declared
through the ritualized establishment of links between ancestors and places.

Conclusions: Considering Locality

In this chapter, I have argued that by examining differences in the spatiality and scale of
key socioeconomic and ceremonial practices, we can better understand how links between the
local and the regional are established, maintained and severed. In this case, the lens of locality
reveals how a fractured landscape, which the Inkas commemorated as the province of chaotic
barbarism, in fact had an order that rested precisely within local actors interest in maintaining
locality and heterogeneity. During the dynamic Ollanta Phase, specific practices defined each
one of the Ollantaytambo area settlement clusters relative to the others.
The data from the Ollantaytambo area empirically illustrate how claims to locality
engender distinct political scales and practices, both local and regional. People living within the
Ollantaytambo area throughout the centuries preceding Inka ascendancy were not the isolated
non-agentsthe barbarians or the homogenous dots on a mapthat they are often made out to
be. Nor were they the passive recipients of broad economic and ecological changes. In the
absence of Wari colonization, local people within specific towns built distinct, internally
coordinated clusters of settlement that both reflected and materially reproduced a landscape of
170

economic self-reliance and/or sociopolitical autonomy. Perhaps inadvertently, the elites within
these towns contributed to and participated in a budding network of regional political interaction
premised on the establishment, maintenance and embellishment of various localities.
In this case, the inhabitants of select towns appear to have directed a program of
localization as an instrument of rule and a claim to authority. Such claims to authority were
staked in select places in order to declare and maintain local autonomy. In using the phrase
staking a claim, I invoke the American and Australian usage of the term claim (i.e. land
claim). That is, a claim is a political right and social relation that is specifically staked in the
land itself and manifested in human relationships with land. These practices and relationships
create "place. Here, we saw how the assembly of both agro-pastoral and ceremonial practices
within specific lands worked to define separate localities. Throughout the centuries that preceded
Inka ascendancy, these practices and their evocation of an essential relationship between
people and the land, blood and soil were crucial to the constitution of both ancestral places
and the authority that they manifested.
The pattern that I have documented in the Ollantaytambo area is not simply an anomaly
or exceptional case. Throughout these centuries, the Cusco Valley was defined by a similar
settlement pattern and shared mortuary practice. For this area, too, a similar kind of argument
can be made about the links between local socioeconomic organization and regional practices of
recognition. Indeed, in this regard, the Cusco Valley and the Ollantaytambo area were not
distinct, socially segregated culture areas. They were linked. It is highly probable that during
these pre-Inka centuries, the people (perhaps elites) that were situated in these various towns
were in communication with one another. They shared a similar set of political practices and
171

common ways of both recognizing and performing authority. In this sense, it is quite likely that,
rather than a chaotic landscape of warfare, this shared regional framework of political norms
preceded and influenced the development of the Inka state in this region.
The mutual recognition of authority would have been necessary for the maintenance of
local autonomy and autarky. In this sense, the process of localization in the Ollantaytambo area
shares some characteristics of peer-polity interaction, as described by Renfrew and Cherry
(1986; see also Crumley 1988; Ma 2003; Schortman 1989). The peer polity model assumes that
stable interaction between spatially contiguous polities yields a mutually beneficial
communicative network. This communicative network initiates an increase in hierarchization,
and then regional polity formation (Renfrew 1986). But in the Ollantaytambo area, it appears as
though a shared framework of political practices was the unintended outcome of highly localized
political practices. A regional political framework was thus assembled through situated practices
specifically designed to affirm local ties between people and places.
This interpretation affords a new perspective on the centuries prior to Inka ascendancy
(LIP). By focusing on political practices and processes of localization, we can begin to forge
multiple narratives about pre-Inka LIP societies rather than relying upon the general rendering
provided by later Inka elites. For some areas, a renewed focus on the link between processes of
localization and regional political practices may shed additional light on emergent forms of prestate political complexity that were cut short by Inka imperial hubris. For instance, the pre-Inka
landscape of the Cajamarca area (northern Peru) in many ways mirrors the data presented in this
chapter, presenting a form of social interaction described as a loose confederation
characterized by both conflict and cooperation (D. Julien 1993: 246). On the other hand, in areas
172

that seem to have been defined by incessant raiding, like the Collao region near Lake Titicaca
(Arkush 2005; see also Frye 1997; Stanish 1985; Wise 1993), a focus on localization provides a
rendering of how certain socioeconomic and political practices coincided with, supported, or
subverted strategies of warfare.
Above all, a renewed concentration on links between the local and the regional enables us
to discard models of regional dynamics that assume particular political practices and institutions
to simply coincide with balkanized and centralized spatialities of power. Such models fail us
because they assume rather than explain continuity throughout sinusoidal cycles of political
boom and bust. They assume spatial units such as local and regional to be the a priori
staging grounds upon which politics occurs rather than as the mechanisms and scales through
which politics occurs. Such models also cannot account for how local political work may be done
to maintain an appearance of social cohesion in light of drastic changes. In short, they do not
address the political genesis of traditions in places because they assume tradition and place to
be isomorphic. Rather, they too often relegate institutional developments to fleeting moments of
centralization, after which populations are assumed to passively revert to traditional (read:
safe) forms of organization. In such models, then, the local appears to be an ontological reality,
a given that requires no further explanation.
But the local is not a given. It is a claim. A consideration of how local practices bolster
political claims to autonomy highlights how practices do not simply coincide with, but in fact
assemble landscapes of power. Locality is not always a passive response; it can also be an active
political program.

173

In the following chapter, I continue to discuss how regional political authority is

constituted through the distinct practices that produce landscape. I investigate how towns cast in
this Ollanta Phase as the sites of traditional and ancestral practices ultimately were embellished
and elaborated by subsequent generations. I argue that during this process, political traditions
were formalized. I explore how these towns were transformed into monumental authoritative
places, unquestioned symbols of an association between political authority, place, and a specific
vision of history. The transformation of these places marks the advent of a distinct kind of
regional politics. Ironically, it also heralds the emergence of the Inka state.

174

CHAPTER FOUR
EMPLACING POLITICAL AUTHORITY: THE TRANSFORMATION OF LOCAL PLACES
AND PRACTICES THROUGHOUT INKA POLITICAL CONSOLIDATION
(CA. 1300 1400 C.E.)

Toward the middle of the fourteenth century, after thousands of years of occupation, a
colossal wall was built at Wata. Within this local pre-Inka town, the construction of this wall
coincided with a dramatic process of architectural conversion and embellishment. Houses were
razed, canals were filled, and storage areas were decommissioned in a procedure seemingly bent
on extinguishing the very contours of everyday life. Reconstruction followed destruction,
however, as the hillside upon which the pre-Inka town stood was reshaped according to
monumental proportions, and consequently recast as a definitively Inka ceremonial place.
This chapter investigates how these local transformations at Wata were linked to broader
processes of regional social change that culminated in the political consolidation of the Inka
polity in the Cusco region (ca. 1300 -1400 C.E.). In so doing, it examines how Inka authority in
the Cusco area was constituted through the manipulation and transformation of pre-Inka
institutions the particular social practices that buttressed local political authority and assembled
political meanings within particular places like Wata (Chapter Three). Specifically, the chapter
documents changes in ceremonial practices and spaces at pre-Inka sites, thus examining how the
Inka political regime both established its authority and incorporated local people by converting
local places and regulating important pre-Inka practices, such as ceremonial feasting and
ancestor veneration.
A multi-scalar approach is employed to investigate whether and how the Inka regime
altered these key practices in order to establish its political authority and incorporate autonomous
175

social groups. I use a multi-scalar approach because the process of polity formation necessarily
occurs over a broad geography, but it is only within specific settings and contested localities that
people experience, participate in, or resist processes of political transformation. At the macro
scale, survey data are presented in order to gauge how Inka political consolidation affected the
distribution, occupational history, and socioeconomic practices of sites throughout the
Ollantaytambo area. At the intermediate scale, architectural analysis and surface collections are
employed to assess how architectural changes were linked to changes in institutional practices at
several pre-Inka sites, particularly changes associated with the staging of feasting practices
within formal spaces. Finally, excavation data from one of these sites (Wata) are then presented
in order to assess how, at the local scale, changes in architecture and political practices
contributed to the constitution of new kinds of political authority. By examining changes in
political practices at sites that were spatially and politically situated between the Inka capital and
local populations, the chapter links archaeological theories of state formation concerned with the
dynamics of political power and institutional change (e.g. Baines and Yoffee 1998, 2000;
Blanton et al. 1996; Brumfiel 1983; Skalnk 1978; Smith 2003; Wright and Johnson 1975) with
geographical theories of how changes in institutional organization conditions social life within
particular places (e.g. Aase 1994; Gottdiener 1985; Harvey 1973, 1989).

Investigating Inka Incorporation

The Inkas claimed that their authority was issued from the gods themselves. Their claims
to absolute authority were framed by myths about an inferior and uncivilized past world the
conversion of which was entrusted, by sacred mandate, to the divinely ordained Inkas (Bauer
1996; Chapter Two). The sacred landscape of the Cusco region was thereby both the outcome of
176

an Inka project to civilize and convert others, and the embodiment of the Inkas divine mandate
(Bauer 2004; Farrington 1992; Niles 1993).
In building the heartland of their theocratic state, the Inkas appropriated local ways of
reckoning authority. For instance, several researchers argue that the Inkas co-opted and
politicized prior pan-Andean traditions that is, by redefining Andean social categories for
kin, or adopting antecedent sacred places (huacas) and incorporating them into a formal Inka
landscape (e.g. Acuto 2005; Bauer 1998; Gose 2000; McEwan and Van de Guchte 1992; Platt
1976; Silverblatt 1988). Furthermore, researchers in the Cusco region often presume that local
political and social institutions were retained as local social groups were redefined as Inkas by
privilege throughout the process of Inka political consolidation (Bauer 2004; Covey 2006;
McEwan 2006; Chapter Two).
But, what is often overlooked is how the Inkas claimed to uphold local institutions and
traditions even as they manipulated and transformed them. Indeed, in contradistinction to the
Inkas own myths, in which they appeared as the cultivators of a new social and cosmological
order, the Inkas are often cast in scholarly literature as the caretakers of an enduring pan-Andean
cultural framework (see Chapter One). In consequence, several questions about Inka state
formation remain unaddressed, viz.: How was authority transferred from local contexts to the
state? What practices mediated between local places and Inka heartland? How did people, in
their everyday relations, constitute the state and its authority? An inquiry into the constitution of
the sacred Inka state requires a consideration of how Inka authority was produced in specific
historical contexts, and how, in the very practices of their production, Inka authority was both
differentiated from and grounded in long-recognized local traditions.
In the previous chapter, we saw how political practicesfeasting and ancestor
177

venerationlocated in select spaces were linked to the production of political authority

throughout the decades that directly preceded Inka governance of the Ollantaytambo area. To
track changes in such political practices throughout the Ollantaytambo area, this chapter
documents the co-distribution of ceramic types and architectural styles that, most likely,
corresponded to ceremonial feasting events. As with the OP macro-analysis, only the specific codistribution of artifact styles, architectural structures, and settlement types is interpreted as
evidence suggestive of feasting and/or ancestor veneration practices. That is, ceramic and
settlement distribution alone are not taken to indicate political affiliation, practices, or influence.
First, I document the distribution of two nascent Inka architectural styles: open plaza
spaces and niched buildings (Figure 4.1). Plazas are ubiquitous institutional spaces within early
and imperial Inka sites. Distributed throughout the highlands and the coast, it is often argued that
Inka claims to authority and legitimacy were performed in these spaces (Coben 2006; DeMarrais
et al. 1996; Gasparini and Margolies 1980; Hyslop 1990; Ramrez 2005). Reflecting a highly
standardized aesthetic, the rectangular buildings that often abut these plazas are single-room,
stand-alone structures, often featuring a row of trapezoidal niches on one or more interior walls. 1
The precise function of these niches is unknown, although their ubiquity throughout the Inka
Empire strongly suggests that they symbolize Inka authority (Gasparini and Margolies 1980).
Inka politics was largely based in the performance of state largesse within such plaza spaces (see
Chapter Five; Coben 2003, 2006; DAltroy and Hastorf 2001; Morris and Thompson 1985;
1

Niches also adorn the walls of Inka houses as well. Here, I refer to larger, more formal buildings situated
near plaza spaces. Although larger and more formal trapezoidal niches are associated with Inka structures, niches
can be found within many pre-Inka structures throughout the Ollantaytambo area (Kendall 1976; Niles 1980), and
the Cusco region more broadly (McEwan 1998; Niles 1987b). Researchers have noted that this architectural style
has deep roots in the central Andes, and have demonstrated how niched buildings marked political significance and
high prestige for millennia before the rise of the Inkas (see Moseley 1992: 113; McEwan 1998). The long
persistence of this symbol in other Andean contexts underscores how Inka polity formation played upon traditional
and longstanding symbols of authority.

178

Morris and Covey 2003).

Figure 4.1: Inka niched buildings. Such buildings contain distinct architectural features, even though local
materials are often used in their construction. Features include niches, quoins, internal wall batter, wide
doorframes, lintels, and thick walls.

I trace the relationship between these architectural styles and Inka polychrome ceramic
densities, especially serving vessels like plates and bowls, at a sample of pre-Inka sites (Figures
4.2-4.5). Inka polychrome ceramic styles and forms are well defined in numerous publications
(Bray 2003; DAltroy 2001; Julien 2004; Rowe 1944; Watanabe 2002). But, it is important to
note how and why I associate such sherds with an early phase of Inka political consolidation in
the Ollantaytambo area. Several researchers consider the Killke ceramic style to be a salient
marker of early Inka political influence (see Chapter Three; Bauer 1992, 2004; Bauer and Covey
2002; Covey 2006; cf. Chatfield 2007). However, such an assumption does not work in the
Ollantaytambo area. As documented in Chapter Three, our excavations at Wata reveal that
pottery bearing decorative motifs and manufacture techniques similar to Killke styles are
associated with Ollanta Phase (twelfth fourteenth century) contexts that antedate the emergence
of Inka styles and structures. Moreover, Inka polychrome ceramics enter the stratigraphic record
at the same time as the dramatic architectural changes that defined the institutional changes
179

through which this area was incorporated into the Inka state (mid fourteenth century). Based on
these data, I conclude that these Inka polychrome ceramic types and architectural styles, when
encountered together at documented OP sites, suggest institutional changes at the local level.
Scholarship to date has not attended specifically to the particular contexts in which Inka
institutional spaces first emerged in the Cusco region at both regional and local scales, nor has it
considered how local changes in the spatiality of political practices were essential to the
production of Inka governance in its earliest period (but see McEwan et al. 2008 for analysis of a
local site; for regional analyses, see Bauer 2004; Covey 2006). By looking at the co-production
of specific architectural forms in relation to changes in institutional practices, I explore how the
Inka polity was born of the articulation between preexisting and new institutional structures.

Figure 4.1: Some examples of Inka polychrome serving vessels. Shallow bowls and plates were common
diagnostic forms recovered throughout the survey.

180

Figure 4.3: Some examples of Inka polychrome serving vessels. Shallow bowls and plates (left) were common
diagnostic forms, as were straight-side shallow bowls (right). These vessels were much shallower than OP bowls.

Figure 4.4: Differences in vessel form distinguish OP (below) and Inka (above) serving vessels.

181

Figure 4.5: Diagnostic rim forms that distinguish OP and Inka serving vessels. Such differences in vessel and
rim forms were recorded to aid in site classification. See Chatfield (2007) for a study of changes in pottery
production throughout Inka state formation.

The Advent of Inka Rule within the Ollantaytambo Area

The survey data provide a preliminary sketch 2 of how Inka governance was established in
the Ollantaytambo area. In attending to changes and continuities in settlement patterns, we can
begin to understand the institutional changes through which the people of this area were first
incorporated into the Inka polity, and how these changes were implemented within specific
localities. For instance, dramatic changes in settlement organization might suggest a stateordained and centrally managed policy of political and economic restructuring. Such drastic
changes have been documented in the Inka imperial provinces, where the yoke of Inka
governmental control often sharply constrained and contained local people, transforming
everyday practices and places as people were forced to move closer to productive agricultural

The survey data presented below only provide an approximation of general changes that occurred from preInka to Inka settlement patterns. Indeed, it is difficult to differentiate Inka period sites that were built in the early
phase of incorporation from those built during later imperial phases, unless such sites contain recognizable imperial
Inka architectural styles. Two monumental and recognizable Inka sites (Ollantaytambo, awpa Colegio) are left out
of this sample because they are known to correspond to the later period of Inka imperial expansion and the later
development of the estate system (Chapter One; Bauer 2004; Covey 2006a; Protzen 1991). Although they are not
included in this sample, it is important to note that the empirical results and the broad interpretations from this
section would not change even if these later Inka imperial sites were added to the sample.

182

terrain (e.g. DAltroy and Hastorf 2001). In contrast, continuities in settlement organization and
seats of power might suggest more incorporative processes consistent with a project of polity
consolidation. Such continuities have been documented in the Cusco Valley, where the Inka
polity emerged after centuries of population expansion and political development (Bauer 2004).
The WAP survey shows little change in the overall geography of settlement organization.
The Inka period settlement patterns largely reflect the preexisting social geography in three
ways: occupational history, spatial organization, and land use patterns. Numerous places
established long before the rise of the Inkas continued to be occupied, used, and/or revered.
Throughout the Inka period, the vast majority (94%) of preexisting (OP) sites including
settlements, tomb complexes, shrines, and agricultural areas continued to function as places of
social and political activity. Site abandonment was limited to a few isolated cases (see below). In
fact, many (41.3%) OP sites were expanded or architecturally embellished during the transition
to Inka rule. These data strongly suggest that both continuous occupation, and the elaboration of
particular places, was important to the establishment of Inka regional governance.
Similarly, the spatial organization of settlement patterns did not change. OP settlement
clusters were largely maintained. The WAP survey documented 187 Inka period sites, 3 110 of
which were newly established (Figure 4.6; see Appendix A for site information). The
establishment of the new settlements reflects both general population growth and expansion
throughout the area. Yet the vast majority of these settlements were built within and near
preexisting OP settlement clusters. The maintenance of these OP settlement clusters and sites
3

We defined Inka period sites when five or more different Inka period ceramic sherds were recovered
within a concentrated area of no more than approximately .05ha. Sites were classified as newly established Inka
period sites if they contained five or more Inka period, yet less than three Ollanta Phase ceramic sherds. This ratio
was supported by excavations at Wata. That is, we found that surface collection units yielding results in this ratio
often correspond to relatively shallow excavation units with little evidence for pre-Inka occupation.

183

thus further suggests that a sociological notion of locality, or local forms of socioeconomic
coordination and/or political organization, persisted throughout the Inka period.

184

Figure 4.6: This map depicts Inka period settlement patterns and serving vessel densities. Many new settlements
were situated in and near preexisting settlement clusters. High densities of Inka polychrome serving vessels are
often found in pre-Inka towns, suggesting continuity in the occupation and perhaps function of select places.

185

In addition, the settlement data suggest broad continuities in socioeconomic land use
practices from the OP to the Inka period. Regardless of site size, Inka period sites were largely
constructed at similar elevations and near the same long-utilized agro-pastoral lands as their OP
counterparts. 4 Site location remained constant relative to socio-ecological criteria, including both
Andean eco-zones and potential maize production terrain (Chapter Three). Indeed, about 60% of
both the OP and Inka sites are situated within lower kichwa zones (preferred maize production
lands situated between 2500-3200m), indicating that inhabitation of lower and warmer areas
largely characterized both OP and Inka periods (Table 4.1, Figure 4.7). 5 Such continuity in
altitude and settlement location suggests the persistence of an agro-pastoral economy.
Agricultural production most likely intensified due to the probable construction of massive
integrated terrace and irrigation systems during the Inka period. But, altogether, it appears as
though the Inka social organization of this area was largely derived from the practices and places
of the Ollanta Phase an era during which social actors anchored their political claims to
authority within select localities. Thus, to understand how the Inka state emerged within the
Cusco region we must inquire into how Inka authority was manifested through the
transformation of these specific local places.

Site size ranks are used only as heuristic categories. There is not a statistically significant difference
between the mean elevations of the overall OP and Inka samples, including all Inka period sites (t= .695, df= 205.7,
no significance at a 0.05 alpha level). The mean elevation of all OP sites is 3439.1m. The mean elevation of all Inka
period sites is 3390.7m.

Broadly defined eco-zones are used here instead of distance from potential maize production terrain
(Chapter Three). This is because terraces were most likely constructed during the Inka period. However, at this
point, criteria have not been developed to differentiate and date pre-Inka and Inka terraces. Most maize agricultural
terraces were situated on slopes below 3500m. So, comparison of the kinds of OP and Inka sites within these ecozones gauges differences in settlements relative to general land use practices.

186

Size
Rank
1
2
3
4

OP%
LK
31.3
27.5
7.5
1.3

IP%
LK
45.1
12.1
2.7
1.1

OP%
UK
17.5
1.3
0
0

IP%
UK
15.4
4.9
0.5
0

OP%
Suni
8.7
0
2.5
1.3

IP%
Suni
12.1
2.1
0
0.5

OP%
Puna
0
1.3
0
0

IP%
Puna
3.2
0
0
0

Table 4.1: Settlement distribution across Andean eco-zones is maintained throughout the transition from local to
regional governance.

Figure 4.7: Bar graphs demonstrating continuity in site distribution relative to Andean eco-zones.

The widespread continuity in occupational history and land use suggests that, when the
people of this area were incorporated into the Inka state, they were not incorporated through
strategies typically associated with later Inka imperial expansion namely, population
movement, disaggregation and displacement (e.g. DAltroy and Hastorf 2001). In fact, these
data, in particular the evident continuation and elaboration of antecedent settlement patterns,
accord more closely with comparable systematic surveys from the upper Cusco Valley, which
find little to no change in settlement location and/or socio-spatial organization during the initial
decades of the Inka period (Bauer 1992, 2004; Bauer and Covey 2002). These data suggest a
187

process of incorporation, rather than appropriation and outright conquest. What is required, then,
is a consideration of the strategies of incorporation and institutional change that are particular to
this region, and a more pointed consideration of how and why the continuity and elaboration of
particular politically salient places was important to the advent of Inka rule.

Changes in Political Practices at OP Sites

An intermediate analytical scale analysis consisting of surface collections and
architectural analysis reveals how the survey data are linked to changes in local political
practices, particularly large-scale feasting and ancestor veneration. By tracking the distribution
of Inka architectural forms and artifact styles throughout the entire sample of OP sites, we can
begin to understand how Inka institutional practices articulated with the preceding social
landscape. For example, if the data show that Inka institutional spaces like plazas and storage
sites are typically located in previously uninhabited areas, they would suggest that such new
political spaces were constructed throughout the Ollantaytambo area even as the preceding
settlements were continually occupied. On the other hand, we may find that Inka institutional
practices and spaces were by and large situated within the confines of preexisting places, as
documented at Wata, thus warranting further examination of how the new Inka political order
was linked to or derived from antecedent social practices. Researchers have already investigated
how changes in settlement patterns corresponded to Inka state formation (Bauer 1992, 2004;
Covey 2006a). My intention here is to examine those specific changes in institutional practices
and places through which Inka governance and authority was established among particular,
formerly autonomous groups. By attending to processes of change at these pre-Inka sites, we
move beyond the broad and coarse scale of the survey data, and toward an investigation of the
188

local scales at which changes in practices forged new kinds of social and political relationships.
Among the sample of all OP sites, there is a statistically significant relation between sites
with high densities of OP serving vessels and sites with high densities of Inka polychrome
serving vessels (Pearsons r = .217, n = 83; significance at 0.05 level) (Figure 4.8). That is,
within the OP sample, sites containing medium to high densities of OP serving wares also
contained medium to high densities of Inka polychrome wares, suggesting their continual use as
staging grounds for the commensal politics of feasting events (Figures 4.9-4.12). Furthermore,
within the total Inka period sample, the OP sites containing Inka plazas and niched buildings
have much higher densities of surface-level Inka polychrome ceramics and serving vessels than
sites lacking these architectural features (Figures 4.9-4.12). 6 These data suggest that local places
for political practice were often retained throughout the transition to Inka rule.

Overall artifact densities varied from site to site, relative to topography, looter pits, and architectural
preservation. We implemented a collection strategy that differentiated distinct cultural zones within each site, with
the objective of gauging differences in artifact distribution between areas with Inka architecture and areas without
such structures. Broad zones (~50 meter radius) were established around spaces containing single niched buildings
and plaza/platform spaces, as well as structures within residential sectors. Fieldworkers walked lines within these
zones and recovered all artifacts situated along their lines. Artifact densities from the formal and residential zones
were then compared. Surface-level sherd densities varied relative to the amount of tourist and looting activity at
these sites. This collection strategy allowed for better representation of surface-level materials associated with the
separate sectors.

189

Figure 4.8: This map shows the relation between OP and Inka serving vessel densities at sites recorded
throughout the survey region. The symbols represent serving vessel densities, not site sizes. The statistical
analysis demonstrates that there is a correlation between OP sites with high OP serving vessel densities, and OP
sites with high Inka serving vessel densities.

190

Figure 4.9: This map demonstrates how Inka niched buildings were often constructed within OP sites that
contained high densities of OP serving vessels. The circular symbols represent serving vessel densities, not site
sizes.

191

There is also significant relation between the new Inka institutional spaces and
preexisting sites. To facilitate analysis, OP sites with low and low-medium percentages of
serving vessels were reclassified as low, while sites with high-medium and high percentages of
serving vessels were reclassified as high. Overall, sites with high densities of OP serving
vessels contain more Inka period architectural variation (68% of the high, 27% of the low); Inka
period niched buildings (56% of the high, and 9% of the low); and more characteristic Inka
architectural features, like quoins, double-jambed doorways, niches, or trapezoidal windows
(63% of the high, 30% of the low). Chi-square tests demonstrate that these differences are
statistically significant at the 0.05 alpha level. 7
Moreover, considering the entire sample of OP sites, a chi-square analysis shows that
there is a significant relation between OP sites with medium to high densities of OP decorated
serving vessels and Inka niched buildings (X2= 27.001; df= 3; significant at the 0.001 alpha
level) (Figures 4.10, 4.11). Particularly, thirteen OP sites were embellished and expanded
through the construction of a new kind of formal architecture consisting of small open platform
or plaza spaces, niched buildings, and/or perimeter walls. At sites like Wata, the towering walls
and immense facades of Inka buildings were both implanted over and interspersed among
preexisting structures and spaces. These immense rectangular Inka structures stood out among
clusters of smaller and circular OP buildings, thus conspicuously making an impression of Inka
power within local village spaces. Our surface collections at these thirteen sites indicate that the
7

Categories of architectural variation were coded based on differences in building form, shape, and scale.
The results were reclassified into low, medium, and high categories. The chi-square results for OP high/low
categories relative to categories of architectural variation are: (X2 = 9.12; df=3; sig at 0.05 alpha level). The chisquare results for OP high/low categories relative to the presence of niched architecture relative to are: (X2 = 15.79;
df=3; sig. at 0.001 alpha level). Categories of architectural attributes were tabulated according to the presence of
specific attributes within a site, as well as the relative ubiquity of such attributes across a site. The chi-square results
for OP high/low categories relative to the presence of one of these Inka architectural attributes are: (X2 = 7.62; df=3;
sig. at 0.05 alpha level).

192

majority (11/13; 84.6%) contained high densities of surface level OP serving vessel fragments
associated with mortuary structures and/or open patio spaces (Figures 4.10, 4.11). This further
suggests that such Inka architectural structures were first constructed only within the local
villages in which OP political practices, like feasting and ancestor veneration, were staged.
We derived radiocarbon assays from excavated contexts and niched Inka buildings at two
of these sites, Wata and Markaqocha. Previously, researchers extracted radiocarbon dates from
similar structures at Pumamarka (Hollowell 1987; Kendall 1996). Radiocarbon measurements
derived from grass embedded in the mortar of perimeter and building walls at these three sites
reveal that these Inka structures were raised within the fourteenth century, at roughly the same
time that architectural changes swept throughout the Ollantaytambo area (Figure 4.16).
In sum, it is clear that Inka institutional spaces were emplaced within select preexisting
OP sites, especially select villages and towns that were already recognized as sites for social and
political activity. But, although the politicized feasting practices of the prior epoch were retained,
such practices were now explicitly associated with formal spaces bearing the stamp of the state.

Figure 4.10: This graph shows the relation between OP serving vessel densities (x-axis) and percentages of OP
sites (y-axis), relative to the presence of formal Inka architecture like niched buildings.

193

Figure 4.11: This graph shows the relation between Inka serving vessel densities (x-axis) and percentages of
Inka sites (y-axis), relative to the presence of formal Inka architecture.

Figure 4.12: This graph shows the relation between tomb types (x-axis) and percentages of OP sites (y-axis),
relative to the presence of formal Inka architecture like niched buildings.

Particularly salient changes occurred in select seats of OP social authority. In a striking

display of power, massive fortification walls were constructed around sections of two OP towns,
Wata and Pumamarka. An immense perimeter wall, stretching for over a kilometer, encircled a
series of newly built monumental Inka structures at Wata, a large (~12ha) OP town situated on a
194

precipitous hilltop high above the Huarocondo valley (Figures 4.13, 4.14). Similarly, an
enormous wall surrounded a set of Inka buildings at Pumamarka, an extensive (~15ha) OP town
situated amidst the verdant slopes of the Patacancha valley (Figures 4.13, 4.15) (see Kendall
1996; Niles 1980). After centuries of weathering, these walls still stand over five meters in
height, testifying to the strength of their construction, the otherworldly scale at which they were
built, and the impression of power that they were intended to convey. 8
Complementing the grandeur of these walls, monumental structures, storage facilities,
and plaza spaces were constructed at these two sites. At these sites, massive walls encircle
specific monumental sectors. 9 Inside the walls are expansive plaza spaces. There are also distinct
elite features, like the baths at Pumamarka, or the monumental tiered platforms of Wata (see
below). Outside of these walls are clusters of archetypical Inka period residential patios and
houses interspersed among a series of terraces. The rigid division of such discrete residential and
monumental sectors appears essential to the reconstruction and fortification of Wata and
Pumamarka. The spatial division of these sites, and the changes in materials and practices
through which this division was manifested, thus demand further attention.
Researchers have long speculated about the function of perimeter walls at pre-Inka and
Inka sites. 10 Debates about military versus ceremonial function have persisted since Hiram
Binghams expedition classified monumental imperial Inka sites like Ollantaytambo and Machu
8

The Inka town at Ollantaytambo was also probably first occupied during this period. However, our surface
collections in Ollantaytambo largely suggest that this town was not fully elaborated and developed until the later
Inka imperial period. This suggestion is supported by construction cuts throughout the town that reveal a relatively
shallow cultural stratigraphy with few pre-Inka artifacts, as well as a sample of radiocarbon dates (see Appendix A).

Another large OP town, Llactallactayoq, is also partially encircled by a large wall. At this site, the wall
separates a core group of niched Inka-style buildings from circular and ovoid residential structures.

10

For discussions of perimeter walls at Inka sites, see Gasparini and Margolies 1980; Hemming and Ranney
1982; Hyslop 1990; MacLean 1986; Protzen 1991.

195

Picchu as military installations (Bingham 1911, 1930; Hyslop 1990). Due to its massive
perimeter wall, Wata is also often characterized as a military installation, whether it is referred
to as the fortress of an autonomous people holding out against Inka rule (e.g. Bauer 2004; Rowe
1946), or an early Inka installation built along the frontier of the nascent polity (e.g. Niles 1980).
Another perspective holds that such massive Inka perimeter walls served to separate and
demarcate a special area, thereby limiting access to specific people and encod[ing] landscape
from simple environment (MacLean 1986: 83-86, quoted in Hyslop 1990).
But, these perspectives are not mutually exclusive. In fact, these Inka walls may have
both fortify and sanctify space, at once manifesting and protecting the divine social order and/or
aristocratic pretensions of the state. That is, similar to the decorated walls that enclose the castles
of medieval Europe or the fortified towns of medieval Rajasthan (e.g. Coulson 2003; Sharma
1993), these Inka walls may have both protected and monumentalized the courtly spaces and
social centers that comprised local political life. However, to date, the monumental perimeter
walls of the Cusco region have neither been considered relative to the context in which they were
built, nor relative to the social order and political landscape that they, in part, produced.

Figure 4.13: During the fourteenth century, the construction of walls corresponded to the construction of plazas
and niched halls at OP towns like Wata (above left) and Pumamarka (above right).

196

Figure 4.14: Plan of Wata showing how different residential sectors are spatially segregated by the sites
massive wall.

Figure 4.15: Aerial photo and macro-scale sketch map of Pumamarka showing how different sectors are spatially
segregated by the sites massive wall. Note the restricted access of the intramural precinct at Pumamarka. Also,
note that a series of storage buildings is situated outside of the wall.

197

Figure 4.16: Radiocarbon measurements derived from Ollantaytambo area pre-Inka sites that were transformed
throughout the process of Inka state formation. All of these dates were taken from Inka structures, or contexts
associated with the OP to Inka transition. The dates suggest that dramatic changes occurred in this area
throughout the fourteenth century (gray shading). (References for the dates: K Kosiba, this study; B98
Bengsston 1998; C06 Covey 2006; H87 Hollowell 1987; K96 Kendall 1996). See Appendix A for a full
listing of Ollantaytambo area radiocarbon dates.

However, not all OP sites of political activity were transformed into Inka ceremonial
spaces. Although only a few (5/81; 6%) OP sites were abandoned at the onset of the Inka period,
three of these sites were fairly large OP villages containing high densities of decorated serving
vessels, mortuary sectors, and distinct forms of domestic architecture (Yanawara, Kanaqchimpa,
and Tapara). These three sites had been continually occupied for centuries, if not millennia, prior
to the onset of the Inka period. Yet these sites were abandoned while many other comparable
sites were either expanded or embellished, suggesting that particular differences between the
people residing in different places, rather than sweeping political transformations like conquest,
198

influenced how local people were incorporated into the growing Inka polity. That is, select
places were explicitly recast as elements of the nascent Inka system.
Inka strategies of incorporation focused on particular sites, and embellished and divided
them in specific ways. Besides adding to our knowledge of when the Inka polity emerged (see
also Bauer 2004; Covey 2006), this study suggests how a process of incorporation occurred as
the structures of regional governance were linked to the preexisting landscape. Inka governance
was therefore quite literally put in place during the fourteenth century when these discrete and
formal institutional spaces were built within preexisting seats of power. Yet how were such
preexisting places and practices converted into instruments of Inka rule? How were changes at
particular places essential to the institutional changes through which Inka governance and
authority were constituted? A study of how Inka governance was established as this region its
people, places, and practices was incorporated, thus demands a much closer focus on sites
themselves. By attending to the transformative processes through which one of these sites
(Wata) was rebuilt, we can begin to understand how Inka authority itself was built.

Emplacing Authority: The Inka Renovation of Wata

After centuries of occupation, Wata was dramatically transformed. During the Inka
period, a monumental intramural sector was constructed. This sector was sharply distinguished
from a residential sector situated on the other side of the sites massive wall (Figures 4.17- 4.20).
By studying the changes in space and practices through which this local site was both converted
and spatially divided, we gain analytical entre into the logic of early Inka social and political
incorporation of local populations.
Wata has only recently become the subject of intensive archaeological research. Vera
199

Robles (2000) directed a pilot project consisting of test excavations. These excavations revealed
that Wata was occupied from the Formative until the Inka period approximately 1500 years.
Under the administration of the Instituto Nacional de Cultura (INC), subsequent Peruvian
archaeological projects have conducted unsystematic block excavations within the plaza sector of
Wata (Cuba 2002, 2003). The INC excavations uncovered evidence for pre-Inka structures
underneath the Inka monumental buildings of Wata.
Complementing this previous research, I directed mapping, surface collections and
excavations throughout Wata to specifically address how it was transformed and architecturally
embellished during the Inka period. WAP research was conducted in order to: (1) compare
results from the INC research to data obtained with more systematic techniques; (2) gauge
differences in the occupational history of the intramural and extramural sectors; and (3) assess
differences in the practices and materials that defined the OP and Inka occupations, as well as the
intramural and extramural sectors. Detailed topographic and architectural maps of Wata were
produced. 11 Sixty surface collection units (5m radius) were distributed across Wata, relative to
degrees of slope, architectural features, and walled sectors. 12 Twenty-one limited scale

11

Maps of Wata were produced using a Leica TCR-705 total station. Points were taken at ~1-2m intervals
throughout Wata, or wherever architectural or geological features were present. Over 6500 topographic and
architectural points were taken while mapping the 27ha area of Wata.

12

At Wata, high surface level densities of ceramic sherds allowed for systematic collection within specified
units. We used a stratified systematic unaligned sampling strategy to measure differences in surface level ceramics
recovered both within and outside of the main wall. This strategy takes into account differences between spaces
within and outside of the architecture, while also providing for better coverage of the entire site area (see Orton
2000: 93; Plog 1976: 137). Using ArcMap 9.2, a map classifying five categories of slope degrees was generated.
This map was used to gauge where certain units may be placed, and how the materials in select units may have
accumulated due to colluvial processes. The density maps displayed here show the processed data. Yet my
conclusions are drawn from knowledge of the degrees of slope, as well as looter pits within the site. For instance, in
the OP density map, we see that a relatively high density of serving vessel sherds is associated with the slopes
surrounding the Wilkapata sector. Drawing from the slope maps, I conclude that these sherds were included within
practices enacted in the sector above, rather than on the relatively steep slopes below. In a more problematic case,
particularly high densities of sherds are associated with the area around the plaza sector. These sherds reflect the

200

excavations (a total area excavated of 149m2; a total volume of 195.8m3) were conducted
throughout both the intramural and extramural areas of Wata (Figures 4.18-4.20). Throughout
our excavations, thirteen samples for radiocarbon measurement were extracted and processed in
order to place the occupational history of this site within an absolute historical trajectory (Table
4.5 [end of chapter]). Overall, the recent research has unveiled the dynamic history of this place,
a history that has been long silenced by Inka narratives of fire and bloodshed.

Figure 4.17: The west face (and principal entrance) of Wata.

practices contained therein, the Inka period destruction of this space, as well as the looting that has targeted this
area.

201

Figure 4.18: Plan of Wata emphasizing the distribution of Inka period structures and sectors. The inset shows
the south profile of Wata.

202

Figure 4.19: In the intramural precinct of Wata, the WAP excavations largely investigated Inka open plaza or
platform spaces and their attendant buildings.

Figure 4.20: In the extramural precinct (Balconpata) of Wata, the WAP excavations investigated house interiors
and patios. Unit 08 examined the foundation of the perimeter wall.

203

Stories of Fire and Bloodshed: The Inka Destruction of Wata?

In the sixteenth century, Inka elites told a story of how the ninth Inka ruler conquered and
burned Wata, soundly defeating local chiefs who had dared to challenge his authority (Chapters
One and Five). Referring to this story of conquest, some archaeologists have noted that there is
burnt plaster within certain buildings at Wata, and consequently have drawn the conclusion that
the site was indeed purposely burnt (Kendall 1976; Niles 1980; Covey 2006a). 13 Likewise,
researchers have long assumed that the wall at Wata was constructed during a period of regional
warfare and strife. For instance, Rowes (1944) expedition to Wata classified the site as a preInka garrison. These stories and interpretations would suggest that Inka governance was
established through the utter destruction of preexisting institutional apparatuses, and by
implication, their subsequent replacement with new, markedly Inka, places and structures.
But, in contrast to the Inka elite account of the fall of Wata, there is no archaeological
evidence that pre-Inka Wata was completely burnt, totally razed, or even abandoned at the onset
of the Inka period. In fact, most of the evidence points to the selective destruction, systematic
monumental embellishment and architectural conversion of the site. Our excavation units were
distributed throughout the intramural and extramural sectors of Wata. These units uncovered no
evidence for site-wide burning, such as a general ash lens, large amounts of burnt plaster and
earth, or high densities of charred objects. Similarly, the extensive block excavations conducted
by the Peruvian Instituto Nacional de Cultura (INC) did not reveal evidence of a widespread

13

This burnt plaster is almost definitely the result of modern activity. Local people recall seeing Wata burn
many times before it was recently converted into a protected archaeological zone. Prior to this most recent
conversion, the open spaces of Wata were used as pasture and potato fields, two activities that are often preceded
by the burning of overgrowth. Also, in the dry climate of the south central Andes, fires quite regularly spread across
entire mountainsides. For example, while we were excavating at Wata, a blaze consumed the majority of the
northern mountain faade upon which the site is situated, reaching within two hundred meters of our fieldhouse and
the sites perimeter wall.

204

burning event (Cuba 2003, 2004). Specifically, in our excavations, burnt wall daub was
especially rare within contexts pertaining to the OP-Inka transition. Burnt daub was associated
with only specific contexts. In contrast, at other Cusco area sites such as Chokepukio (situated
within the Cusco Valley), archaeologists have uncovered deep ash lenses in multiple units, as
well as burnt roofing material, both of which bespeak massive site-wide burning, and perhaps a
more dramatic shift in political power (Hiltunen and McEwan 2004; McEwan et al. 2002).
In fact, our excavations found that highly localized and controlled fires were specifically
associated with the construction of Inka architecture. Certain contexts contained discrete ash
lenses, rather than the deep deposits of material associated with site wide burning. Rather than
reflecting the widespread destruction of Wata at the hands of a triumphant Inka army, the ash
lenses thus suggest that highly localized fires were lit in order to commence and conclude a
sequence of ritualized conversion and decommissioning practices that accompanied the
interment of OP buildings and the erection of Inka structures (see Chapter Five).
The morphological and aesthetic characteristics of the immense perimeter walls
themselves also contradict the Inka elite story of complete conquest, strongly suggesting that
Wata was fortified during the early Inka period, rather than during the period of regional
conflict that is assumed to precede Inka ascendancy. At Wata, the perimeter walls contain
numerous attributes typically associated with the Inka architectural canon, including trapezoidal
doorways, bar-holds, a slight internal batter, and a wall width of 90-110cm. Furthermore, the two
concentric walls that encircle Wilkapata, the summit around which Wata was built, contain Inka
architectural attributes typically reserved for politically significant places, like double-jambed
doorways (Figure 4.21). Neither WAP nor INC excavations next to the wall revealed a pre-Inka
antecedent.
205

Moreover, two radiocarbon measurements derived from the perimeter wall at Wata
solidly place its construction within the Inka period. 14 These dates and morphological attributes
demonstrate that the wall at Wata was constructed during the fourteenth century, at roughly the
same time that Inka structures were first built throughout both Wata and comparable Cusco
region sites (Figure 4.22). In other words, the construction of this wall at Wata was part of a
remarkable set of architectural and social changes that were put into place throughout the Cusco
region.

Figure 4.21: Although constructed with local materials (sandstone), many structures at Wata contain Inka signs
of prestige, like the double-frame windows that adorn the Inka period storage structure (above left) and the
double-jamb doorway that permits entry into the Wilkapata sector (above right).

14

Two radiocarbon measurements were derived from the perimeter wall. A radiocarbon measurement was
obtained from a grass sample that was embedded in the walls mortar (T4.1). A date from this sample (AA85886)
yielded calibrated date ranges of 1391-1446 C.E. (68.2%) and 1310-1459 C.E. (95.4%) (OxCal 4.1). A radiocarbon
measurement was obtained from a charcoal sample that was embedded in the walls foundation. A date from this
sample (AA82719) yielded calibrated date ranges of 1425-1455 C.E. (68.2%) and 1404-1485 C.E. (95.4%) (OxCal
4.1).

206

Figure 4.22: This graph shows the date ranges for several Cusco region Inka sites. Note that many of these dates
cluster in the fourteenth century (gray shading), when dramatic transformations occurred at Wata. (References
for the dates: K Kosiba, this study; B98 Bengsston 1998; C06 Covey 2006; H87 Hollowell 1987; K96
Kendall 1996; McE01 McEwan 2001). See Appendix A for references and date ranges.

Overall, then, the evidence suggests that the conversion of Wata was a result of the
transformation and transferal of power and not, as the Inka would have it, the fiery destruction
and abandonment of a place and its political authorities. To be clear: Wata was selectively
destroyed so that it could be transformed and rebuilt as an Inka place. This transformation
required not only the embellishment of architecture, but also the enclosure of newly built
monumental sectors within massive walls. But, what were these walls doing? How do they
manifest sociopolitical change? How do they relate to the aforementioned regional changes? To
address these questions, we must explore the institutional practices of pre-Inka Wata.

207

Wata before the Inkas

At the onset of the Inka period, Wata was a relatively large (12 ha) settlement located
approximately 40km from Cusco. Our surface collections and excavations demonstrate that
Wata was occupied for centuries prior to its Inka period reformulation, with particularly robust
occupations during the Formative period (ca. 1000 B.C.E. 500 C.E.) and the Ollanta Phase (ca.
1000 1300 C.E.). Thus, it is highly probable that Wata was recognized and revered as an
important local place, perhaps over the span of millennia.
Although it was most likely a significant (known and named) local place, it is difficult to
make a definite claim for continuous occupation at Wata, given our excavation sample and the
radiocarbon date ranges. However, it does not appear as though Wata was completely
abandoned and/or rebuilt during the centuries prior to Inka state formation. The surface
collections recovered high densities of pottery derived from every major period in the Cusco
sequence, thus suggesting continual occupation. Complementing these data, in several
excavation units we uncovered high densities of cultural materials throughout deep (~2-3m),
continuous vertical sequences, indicating the occupation of Wata over an extended period of
time. Three excavation units located in and around the Inka period plaza units reveal the
occupational history of Wata. A continuous stratigraphy within Unit 17 illustrates both the longterm occupation of this area, as well as its destruction and reconstruction during the early Inka
Period. Unit 10 contained evidence of an OP occupation, as well as the subsequent Inka plaza
floor. Situated below the plaza area, Unit 11 contained materials associated with the entire
occupation of the sector. In this unit, the relatively small sizes of OP and Formative sherds
suggest that the deposits consisted of colluvium and detritus, perhaps resulting from the periodic
cleaning and/or reconstruction of the residential and plaza space located above.
208

The WAP survey suggest that, during the OP, Wata was one of a few places in the
Ollantaytambo area in which both feasting practices and ancestor propitiation ceremonies were
staged (Chapter Three). It may not have been a heavily populated settlement, but it was certainly
a place for non-quotidian social practice. Our surface collections and excavations recovered very
high densities of both Formative and OP decorated serving vessels within select sectors of
Wata, suggesting that certain intra-site spaces were long used for special kinds of non-quotidian,
or ceremonial practice. For instance, the summit around which Wata was built (Wilkapata)
contains numerous circular stone tombs. This space contained very high densities of pre-Inka
ceramic sherds, including both Formative and OP styles (see below).
Beneath many of the Inka structures and terraces of Wata lay the remains of a dense preInka village. Within several excavation contexts, we uncovered architectural vestiges of
residential structures and storage buildings from the Formative period and Ollanta Phase. Cubas
(2003, 2004) block excavations within the plaza sector of Wata first uncovered the foundations
of these pre-Inka buildings (Figure 4.23).

209

Figure 4.23: INC excavations in the plaza sector uncovered a tight conglomeration of pre-Inka buildings and
features. This drawing is my reproduction of a photo taken by Cuba (2003). Many pre-Inka walls are evident, as
well as offerings that were placed among the decommissioned buildings (dark circles the one in front
corresponds to a burial). See Chapter Five for detail on the WAP excavations of these pre-Inka structures. 1

Specifically, pre-Inka residential architecture was uncovered in our two units within the
plaza space (Units 10, 17). These walls bear the morphological attributes of typical pre-Inka
residential structures (Kendall 1976, 1985; Rice 1993b). They are single-coursed (~50cm),
meandering and curvilinear walls constructed from angular and semi-angular stones. Formative
and OP sherds were associated with these wall foundations. The Formative and OP sherds
correspond to a deep stratigraphy, suggesting that this was the site of long-term habitation.
1

Unfortunately, I did not receive INC permission to use the original photo prior to the publication of this
thesis. See Cuba (2003: 23) for the original photo, and also for a comprehensive review of Cubas important work at
Wata.

210

Furthermore, OP storage structures and associated walls were uncovered in several other
contexts (Units 6, 15, 16).
Two radiocarbon dates were derived from the lowest excavation levels in the pre-Inka
village space under the Inka plaza. 16 These dates verify the long-term occupational history of
Wata, indicating that some sectors were first occupied over 2000 years ago (see Chapter Three).
Two radiocarbon measurements were then derived from different OP residential contexts (Unit
10, 15). These dates indicate that the OP structures were inhabited during the thirteenth century
C.E. 17 Radiocarbon measurements derived from fill situated above these contexts indicate that
these spaces were transformed in the mid fourteenth century C.E. (Table 4.5 [end of chapter]).
The architectural morphology of these OP structures is typical of residential structures
from this period (see Chapter Three). However, compared with site-wide data, our surface
collection and excavation data from the plaza area suggest that pre-Inka Wata contained an elite
residential space. For one, the surface collections reveal that, relative to the other sectors of the
intramural area, the area around the plaza contains relatively high percentages of decorated OP
serving vessels (59.3%). Similarly, the excavations in the plaza area revealed relatively high
densities of decorated pottery within the earlier, Formative and foundational OP levels. For
instance, the majority (64.3%) of the Formative sample consists of highly decorated wares, such
as incised and polished Chanapata Black and Chanapata Red fragments. These percentages

16

Three radiocarbon measurements were derived from Formative period contexts. These three measurements
indicate that Wata was first occupied in the seventh or eighth century B.C.E. The calibrated ranges for these three
Formative period dates are 3 to 118 C.E., 766 to 543 B.C.E., and 787 to 555 B.C.E. (68.2%) (OxCal 4.1) (see
4.31[end of chapter]).
17

Two radiocarbon measurements were derived from Ollanta Phase contexts at Wata. These two
measurements indicate that Wata was an OP village, occupied during the thirteenth century C.E. The calibrated
ranges for these two OP dates are 1230 to 1299 C.E. and 1229 to 1285 C.E. (68.2%) (OxCal 4.1).

211

almost triple the amount of decorated pottery recovered from other Formative and OP contexts at
Wata. Likewise, the majority (73.8%) of the OP pottery sample consists of decorated types,
particularly monochrome slipped or polychrome wares. These pottery types were relatively rare
in surface collection samples from sites within the survey, and were typically associated only
with higher status or socially significant spaces, like mortuary precincts or specific sectors of
larger towns (Chapter Three). In addition to these decorated ceramics, we only recovered
prestige and exotic artifacts in the area underneath the plaza space. Such artifacts include large
quantities of obsidian flakes and tools, bronze and copper fragments, marine shells, and
numerous carved steatite beads (see also Cuba 2003, 2004). 18 These rare and highly decorated
items strongly suggest that an elite group inhabited this sector of pre-Inka Wata.
Specific OP architectural forms and excavation contexts throughout Wata lend insights
into the way in which this pre-Inka site was organized. The WAP excavations uncovered four
pre-Inka storage structures (Units 6, 15, 16). These structures are semi-subterranean oval
buildings of 1-1.5m diameter with ventilation shafts. The structures are associated with pre-Inka
residential buildings, suggesting that they were attached to particular OP houses or households
containing the aforementioned prestige and exotic materials (see Chapter Five for more detail).
Such a household-based institutional arrangement has been documented among pre-Inka sites of
the Mantaro region, in which researchers have suggested that select patio groups containing
storage facilities reflect the growing capacity of select elite people to manage both surpluses and
labor (Costin and Earle 1989; DAltroy and Hastorf 2001). At Wata, these small domestic
storage structures correspond to the elite area, a space containing high densities of decorated
18

These blue stone beads were recovered within all levels from the Formative to Inka periods of the
intramural sectors of Wata, suggesting that they were special objects associated with the people that resided within
the site. The plaza sector was the only OP context that contained copper fragments or large amounts of obsidian.

212

sherds associated with the residential structures. Although preliminary, these data are suggestive
of a household-based authoritative structure prior to the Inka occupation of this site perhaps a
cargo system in which different inhabitants of the town sponsored work feasts at different times.
In sum, prior to Inka rule in the Cusco region, it appears as though Wata was a longoccupied town, a site occupied by individuals with access to non-quotidian and exotic materials,
and a place for non-quotidian practices like ancestor propitiation and collective feasting. 19
Besides providing a sketch of the institutional structure at pre-Inka Wata, these data foreshadow
how the site was transformed and incorporated. The presence of valued artifacts in this
residential sector, and the dearth of similar artifacts in others, suggests that this sector had long
been the core of an elite residential area that was in part defined by special, exotic or valued
objects. The data also suggest collective consumption activities occurred in this sector even
before a plaza was built.

Formal Changes in Architecture and Spatial Practice at Wata

In the fourteenth century, Wata was redefined through the construction of a series of
expansive open platforms, each of them abutted by one or more larger quadrangular structures
bearing interior trapezoidal niches. A monumental ceremonial precinct and elite residential space
was constructed directly over the pre-Inka settlement of Wata. The new monumental sector was
completely contained within a massive perimeter wall. Within the wall, architectural scale,
aesthetics, and spatial organization constituted a space of formality and exclusivity.
Similar to many prestigious Inka sites, the grandeur of the new structures was largely

19

Surface collections were conducted throughout Wata. These collections revealed that high concentrations
of decorated OP serving vessels were primarily associated with the plaza sector and the Wilkapata sector. Medium
densities of these vessels were recovered in the residential terraces between Wilkapata and the plaza.

213

created through the establishment of monumental scale. The doorframes, internal area and wall
widths of these structures are often nearly twice the size of those encountered within Inka
commoner houses. Numerous Inka elite residential structures thus replaced an OP elite village,
suggesting that the renovation of Wata was largely about either the aggrandizement of a local
group under Inka power, or the control of this group through the installment of an Inka fortified
site (see below). Either way, the social and political incorporation of this region was realized
through the architectural and institutional conversion of key sites like Wata.
At Wata, new buildings were marked with recognizable symbols of Inka power and
prestige. Interspersed among the immense structures of this intramural area are architectural
attributes that researchers have long associated with Inka prestige in both the Cusco area and the
imperial provinces (e.g. Alcina Franch et al. 1976; Coben 2006; Gasparini and Margolies 1980;
Hyslop 1990; Kendall 1976, 1985; Niles 1980, 1987b). Such architectural attributes include
double jamb doorways, double frame windows, trapezoidal niches, and doors and windows of
immense size. The distribution of these attributes marks high prestige at Wata, suggesting that
the construction of this intramural space yielded an exclusive elite and/or ceremonial precinct.
In addition to their scale and architectural attributes, these monumental structures create
an exclusive and formal space by restricting access and movement within the site. From the
gated entryways 20 cut into the imposing perimeter wall to the single ramps used to access open
platform spaces, movement within the intramural area is highly restricted, evoking a spatial plan
meant to direct and control movement along preordained routes. Throughout the intramural

20

There are only two entrances in the perimeter wall. An entryway has been cleared and rebuilt by the INC.
Another entryway was uncovered in our excavations (Unit 8). Both of these entrances were highly restricted. The
interior spaces of the entrances both contained bar-holds, devices used to close and hold doors over such entryways.
Also, within our excavations, we uncovered evidence of a small room adjoining the entryway, suggesting restricted
or perhaps even guarded access.

214

sector of Wata, raised platforms sharply constrain potential movement (Figure 4.24). The few
stone-lined pathways and staircases within the site explicitly direct traffic through a sequence of
platforms that succeed one another along the ridgeline of Wata, like beads on a string (Figure
4.25). An immense niched building flanks each platform space, suggesting that these platforms
were elite residences or distinct civic spaces. In traversing Wata, one must pass through the
majority of these platforms and niched structures. The sequence of platforms ends at the sites
monumental civic space a broad plaza. Repeating this theme of restricted access, this plaza lies
in an area of the site that is farthest from the entrance, and is only accessible from a single point.

Figure 4.24: One of the many Inka period platforms found throughout Wata.

215

Figure 4.25: Plan of Wata emphasizing its Inka period platform spaces (circles) and limited pathways
(continuous line) between such platforms.

Our sytematic surface collections suggest that these Inka period architectural
transformations coincided with overall changes in spatial practices. Particularly high densities of
Inka polychrome serving vessels are associated with areas around the main plaza sector and its
attendant structures (Figures 4.26, 4.27). Very few Inka sherds were recovered in or near the
Wilkapata sector. Medium densities of Inka polychrome sherds were associated with the
extramural residential sector.

216

Figure 4.26: Density plot of OP decorated serving vessel fragments. Target symbols are 5m radius collection
units.

Figure 4.27: Density plot of Inka serving vessels. Target symbols are 5m radius collection units.

217

The systematic surface collections at Wata document how changes in the spatial
distribution of institutional practices coincided with the drastic architectural and organizational
changes that occurred at this OP site throughout early Inka state formation. Although there was
not a substantial shift in the kinds of practices that occurred in Wata, the location of key
practices was altered. That is, there was a shift in spatial practices.
Particular transformations show how the local or state agents who directed these changes
at Wata sought to control and formalize significant preexisting spaces. For instance, the surface
collections suggest that the Wilkapata sector was no longer used for ancestor propitiation
ceremonies within the Inka period. That is, although Wilkapata and its environs contained
numerous pre-Inka sherds, few decorated Inka sherds were collected in and around this area. But
ironically, Wilkapata was monumentalized at the same time that it was divested of these
practices. Dual concentric walls surround the Wilkapata sector. These walls contain numerous
markers of high Inka prestige, like the double-jambed doorways pictured in Figure 4.21. A
quadrangular Inka niched building stands at the entry to this sector. These structures both
emphasize the single entry to the space, as well as the Inka power with which it was invested.
Likewise, the Inka period plaza covered the long-occupied residential area in which collective
feasting practices were staged. The conversion of both of these spaces bespeaks a process
concerned with the control and/or formalization of social spaces and practices. The changes
within intramural Wata, then, were explicitly about the production of a formal political space in
which key institutional practices were explicitly relegated to formal areas of the site.

Excavation Differences between OP and Inka Contexts at Wata

The excavations shed further light on how the intramural area was converted into an Inka
218

place. OP and Inka assemblages were compared in order to gauge how these dramatic changes in
spatial practices corresponded to changes in the materials that were used within the intramural
area. The analysis continued to focus on food preparation and consumption activities,
particularly gauging whether there was a significant increase in the kinds of material that
constituted feasting practices. Such materials include decorated ceramic serving vessels that were
used in feasting events, charred animal bones, particular kinds of animal remains, burnt pottery,
and grinding tools. 21 Due to the massive Inka period program of rebuilding at Wata, it was
difficult to identify particular OP social contexts, like houses or patios. Thus, the analysis took
into account bulk changes from pre-Inka to Inka contexts within the intramural area. Changes in
the frequencies of these materials suggest that changes in the spatiality of political practices
contributed to the conversion of Wata into an exclusive precinct. 22
Both the OP and Inka samples contained very high percentages of decorated serving

21

Burnt bone refers to animal bone that is more than ten percent black (evidencing burn scars). When
recovered in high densities, such charred bones are often indicative of roasted meat that was served in feasting
events, a high-prestige consumption practice (Costin and Earle 1989; Sandefur 2001). If recovered in association
with charred bones, burnt pots may reflect the cooking practices that contributed to feasting. The analysis delineated
areas for specialized cooking by calculating the overall contribution of charred bone, burnt pottery and burnt rock or
mortar within any given excavation context. We also considered paleobotanical materials, yet concluded that a
larger sample is necessary to understand the changes that occurred within these contexts.
22

OP and Inka period designations were made relative to the particular stratigraphy of each unit. The WAP
excavated eleven units within the intramural sector, constituting a total area of 96m2, most of which was excavated
to a depth of 1.5-2m. According to a conservative calculation, 37.3m3 of these units corresponded to OP occupation,
while 59.2m3 corresponded to Inka period occupation. This is a conservative calculation because it does not take
into account any excavation levels that may correspond to the fill that was emplaced while Wata was rebuilt, or any
levels that may correspond to Inka period abandonment processes. A dense lens of fill often separated OP and Inka
occupational contexts. This fill was categorized as OP-Inka, since it corresponds to the transitional commemorative
practices through which Wata was rebuilt (Chapter Five). Statistical comparisons (t-tests) gauged differences in the
kinds of artifacts derived from each context (weighted by cubic meter), both within specific units and throughout the
overall sector. Only statistically significant results are presented in detail here. Overall, there was no significant
difference in faunal weight or quantity (NISP) (llama, cuy, deer, dog, and bird), ceramic weight, OP serving vessels,
or ceramic weight to count indices. These results provide information with which to understand the changes in social
practice that accompanied the architectural transformations at Wata.

219

vessels, suggesting little change in the kinds of practices that occurred within the intramural
space. However, remarkable shifts in the overall amounts and percentages of decorated serving
vessels suggest an increase in the intensity and/or frequency of the practices in which such
objects were used within the intramural sector. 23 Specifically, there is a highly significant
increase in the overall quantities (weights) and percentages of decorated serving vessels within
intramural excavation contexts.24 There is also a notable increase in the overall amount of
decorated vessels within intramural Inka period contexts.
Such changes in serving vessel densities were linked to changes in practices of food
preparation and consumption practices within the intramural sector. The faunal data show that,
when comparing OP and Inka contexts, there are no significant differences in the kinds of
animals consumed or the portion of meat that was typically consumed. Yet there are statistically
significant differences in the amounts and percentages of charred animal bone derived from the
OP and Inka period contexts. In our excavations, there is a statistically significantly higher
amount of charred bone within Inka contexts (counts and weights relative to volume
excavated). 25 This suggests a subtle temporal difference in the scale of consumption. Overall,

23

Two kinds of percentages were used. First, overall percentages of Inka serving vessels (relative to overall
Inka ceramics) were compared to percentages of OP serving vessels (relative to overall OP ceramics). Second, a
measure of overall serving vessels was used because there is evidence that, during the Inka period, some OP
decorated serving vessels were continually used and deposited within the intramural sector (by context volume).
Although the continued use and deposition of OP serving vessels is certainly remarkable, a t-test shows that this is
not a significant difference. (Equal variances assumed, t= -.811, df= 134; no difference).
24

The mean of combined (OP and Inka) serving vessel quantities is 17.7 for all OP contexts and 30.4 for all
Inka contexts. A t-test shows that this is a significant difference. (Equal variances not assumed, t= -3.55, df= 122;
sig. at 0.001 alpha level).
25

The statistics reflect differences in the percentage (weight) of burnt bone or ceramics recovered in
excavation contexts (weighted by volume). The mean of burnt bone percentages is 21.1 for all OP contexts and 35.5
for all Inka contexts. A t-test shows that this is a significant difference. (Equal variances assumed, t= -2.751, df=
135; sig. at 0.05 alpha level).

220

then, it appears that more roasted meat was prepared and consumed within Inka period Wata.
Interestingly, though, within the intramural sector, the higher amount of burnt bone
corresponds to a statistically significant decrease in burnt pottery. 26 Assuming that burnt pottery
corresponds to cooking practices, then these data suggest that spatial changes in food preparation
and consumption activities were certainly important to the rebuilding of Wata. It is possible that
the decrease in burnt pottery corresponds to changes in the intra-site places of food preparation.

Variable

Intramural OP
contexts
mean
14.6

Intramural
Inka contexts
mean
17.1

df

Statistical significance (t)

135

-.811; no difference

All Decorated Serving

Vessels (percentage)

17.7

30.4

122

-3.55; significance at 0.001

alpha level

All Decorated Serving

Vessels (weight)

5.7

8.9

135

-198; significance at 0.05 alpha

level

Camelid Bone
(weight)

17.6

35.1

135

-2.125; no difference

Charred Bone
(percentage)

21.1

35.5

135

-2.751; significance at 0.05

alpha level

Burnt Pottery
(percentage)

40.4

33.8

135

2.371; significance at 0.05 alpha

level

OP Decorated Serving
Vessels (percentage)

Table 4.2: Summary of salient differences between Inka intramural and extramural excavation contexts. All
values are weighted by cubic meter excavated.

26

In the intramural sector, the mean of burnt pottery (sherds with burn marks on their exterior surfaces)
percentages is 40.4 for all OP contexts and 33.8 for all Inka contexts. A t-test shows that this is a significant
difference. (Equal variances assumed, t= 2.371, df= 135; sig. at 0.05 alpha level).

221

Coinciding with these transformations is a major change in the presence of non-local and
exotic materials. While, both OP and Inka assemblages contain comparable densities of what
could be termed functional non-local materials, like obsidian, only Inka period contexts contain
non-local materials that were most likely incorporated into the ceremonial practices of the site.
Indeed, non-local decorated serving vessels were recovered in multiple Inka period contexts,
including vessels from southern Cusco (Lucre ceramics), the Paruro region (Colcha ceramics)
and the Lake Titicaca basin (Pacajes ceramics) (Figures 4.28, 4.29). Other finely painted ceramic
types of unknown origin were also found in these contexts (Figure 4.30). The non-local ceramics
were only recovered in specific Inka institutional spaces, particularly two niched buildings
situated near the main plaza space (Units 16 and 17), and another unit situated en route to the
plaza space (Unit 12). These types are typically associated with the Late Intermediate Period
(Bauer 1992, 1999), yet it makes sense that they may have been incorporated into ceremonial
events at Wata during a time of transition through which Inka authority was first established. 27
Other non-local materials were recovered in these Inka contexts, including shell from the
Pacific coast and fruit seeds from the nearby tropical forest selva (Psidium guayava; guayaba).
Marine shell fragments were recovered in six spatially and socially distinct Inka contexts,
including the plaza space (Unit 17), a niched building (Unit 16), and numerous houses (Units 1,
6, 13, and 19). The guayaba seeds were recovered within the house context (Unit 19) (Figure
4.31). The presence of these non-local items within the Inka period levels, and their conspicuous
27

Lucre ceramics were produced in the Lucre Basin of the Cusco valley, situated over 60 km from Wata.
Colcha ceramics were produced in the Paruro region, situated over 100 km from Wata. Pacajes ceramics were
produced in the Lake Titicaca region, situated over 500 km from Wata. During the survey, Colcha and Lucre
ceramics were not recovered at any other site, while Pacajes ceramics were only recovered at one other site a
monumental Inka settlement situated near Ollantaytambo that local residents now call awpa Colegio. Excavations
will be necessary to gauge whether these pottery styles are generally found within Inka levels throughout the
Ollantaytambo area.

222

absence from OP levels, suggests that, during the Inka period, the inhabitants of Wata
participated in more robust and far-flung social relations than their forbears. Although
preliminary, these findings reveal an ironic twist within the story of Inka state consolidation: that
is, the people within Wata appear to have extended their social links, even as this place was
restricted and fortified.
In sum, the excavation data suggest that that the architectural realignment of Wata was
linked to an increase in the consumption of valued foods, as well as an increase in the presence
of non-local materials, especially materials suggestive of links to the Titicaca region (Pacajes
sherds) and the selva (guayaba seeds). The data thus reveal that the overall reorganization of
Wata was about the production of an exclusive and formal space in which ceremonial feasting
events were staged, as well as the extension of the social and/or trade relations in which the site
inhabitants participated.

Figure 4.28: Non-local Colcha sherds recovered throughout the WAP excavations.

223

Figure 4.29: Non-local Pacajes sherds recovered throughout the WAP excavations.

+
Figure 4.30: Non-local sherds of unknown geographical origin that were recovered throughout the WAP
excavations.

224

Figure 4.31: Guayaba seeds were recovered in Inka levels of Wata. Taken in tandem with the non-local
ceramics derived from Inka contexts, such ecofacts suggest that regional social relations intensified during the
Inka period, perhaps including contacts with the nearby selva.

Intramural and Extramural Sectors at Wata

As these monumental spaces were produced within Wata, an immediate spatial and
social distinction was created between houses situated within the intramural and extramural
sectors. Differences in material assemblages derived from extramural and intramural contexts
show the degree to which the spatial difference established at Wata corresponded to a status
difference. By looking at these assemblages, we see how the renovation of Wata was predicated
upon the production of formal and exclusive spaces, each of which corresponded to rigidly
separated activities and statuses.
Both the architecture and consumption practices of the extramural area (Balcnpata) at
Wata starkly contrast with the monumental grandeur of the intramural precinct. Arranged like a
typical Inka domestic site, Balcnpata exhibits an open spatiality and a standard architecture with
minimal variation in building construction, adornment or placement (see also Niles 1980). The
arrangement of buildings creates an open and highly permeable spatial layout, providing for

225

multiple lines of access and movement throughout the terraces and patios that are situated on this
hillside (see above Figure 4.22). Structures are spaced at regular distances from one another,
aligned relative to the contours of the slope on which they were built. The intramural area does
not contain any residential structures of a scale similar to those within the Balcnpata sector. In
fact, intramural buildings are almost twice the size of their Balcnpata counterparts. There are
striking differences in architectural attributes, including overall building size, internal area,
doorframe width, and wall width. Such architectural adornment is generally present on the
intramural buildings and absent from the extramural buildings. In terms of architecture and
spatial layout, then, an everyday residential space was produced in Balcnpataa quotidian
space that was sharply differentiated from the grandeur of intramural Wata.
Despite such sharp differences in architectural forms and spatial layout, the data suggest
some similarities in the materials that were used in the two areas. Our surface collections
documented high densities of decorated Inka serving vessel sherds in the terraces that surround
the flat ridge situated above the houses of Balcnpata (refer to Figure 17c). High densities of
Inka polychrome serving vessels were also recovered in all of the Balcnpata excavated units,
indicating that the people of this area certainly had access to these state objects. Moreover,
identical Inka pottery forms, decorative motif types, and manufacture types were found in both
intramural and extramural areas, as were the same kinds of OP decorated wares. Moreover, the
faunal data indicate that there is no significant difference in the kinds of animals consumed
within the two areas. Exotic and non-local objects, like shells from the Pacific coast were also
recovered throughout the Balcnpata area (Units 1, 4 and 6), as were metal objects (Units 1, 5, 6,
20). Altogether, these data suggest that similar kinds of objects were used within the intramural
and extramural areas, even as monumental walls and platforms separated these sectors.
226

Although the Balcnpata sector contained many of the same kinds of objects as the
intramural area, there is a marked difference in the scale of use and consumption. That is, the
frequencies and percentages of these objects differ between the two areas, suggesting that the
two spaces of Wata, and perhaps the status groups that they contained, were differentially
defined according to the scale and/or frequency of the activities in which they engaged. In
comparing the overall extramural and intramural samples, there is a much higher percentage
(weights) of Inka polychrome serving vessels within the intramural precinct that is, a much
higher number of such sherds per cubic meter excavated. 28 Taking OP vessels into account, we
find that Inka contexts within the intramural area also have markedly higher percentages and
weights of these serving vessels than Inka contexts in the Balcnpata sector. 29 Furthermore,
intramural Inka contexts contained significantly higher amounts of decorated ceramics, than the
extramural contexts, as well as significantly higher amounts of recovered ceramics, overall. 30 In
addition, although the same kinds of decorated wares were recovered in both sectors, we find
that much higher densities of particular OP and Inka ceramic types were recovered in the
intramural sectorobjects like OP fine-line slipped sherds.
Complementing these differences in ceramic types, there are significant differences in the

28

The mean for Inka polychrome serving vessel percentages is 6.9 for all extramural contexts and 25.3 for all
intramural contexts. A t-test shows that this is a significant difference. (Equal variances not assumed, t= -4.193, df=
141; sig. at 0.001 alpha level).
29

The mean for combined (OP and Inka) serving vessel percentages is 19.7 for all extramural Inka contexts
and 29.9 for all intramural Inka contexts. A t-test shows that this is a significant difference. (Equal variances not
assumed, t= -2.73, df= 124; sig. at 0.01 alpha level). Moreover, the mean for OP serving vessels is 1.9 for all
extramural Inka contexts and 4.5 for all intramural Inka contexts. A t-test shows that this is a significant difference.
(Equal variances not assumed, t= -3.063, df= 141; sig. at 0.01 alpha level).
30

The mean for non-decorated ceramics (weighted by context volume) is 18.8 for all extramural Inka
contexts and 29.5 for all intramural Inka contexts. A t-test shows that this is a significant difference. (Equal
variances assumed, = -2.196, df= 141; sig. at 0.05 alpha level).

227

percentages of charred faunal bone recovered in both areas. Indeed, in addition to higher overall
quantities of fauna (weighted by volume) there is a significantly higher percentage of charred
fauna (overall) and camelid bone (weighted by volume) within the intramural areas. 31 The higher
quantities and percentages of faunal remains further suggest that the intramural area contained
feasting events. These differences in charred faunal percentages and counts reflect the same
differences that we found between OP and Inka contexts. That is, it is not that a different kind of
meat was consumed in the intramural area, but that more roasted meat was consumed. Thus, it
appears as though these feasting events of the intramural area were characterized by large
quantities of materials and food, rather than different kinds of objects and culinary fare.

Variable

Intramural
Inka contexts
mean
6.9

Extramural
Inka contexts
mean
25.3

df

Statistical significance (t)

141

-4.193; significance at 0.001

alpha level

All Decorated Serving

Vessels (percentage)

29.9

19.7

124

-2.73; significance at 0.01 alpha

level

Camelid Bone
(weight)

35.1

23.8

141

.28; no difference

Charred Bone
(percentage)

35.5

21.7

141

-2.84; significance at 0.01 alpha

level

Burnt Pottery
(percentage)

33.8

41.1

141

2.49; significance at 0.05 alpha

level

Inka Polychrome Serving

Vessels
(percentage/weight)

Table 4.3: Summary of salient differences between Inka intramural and Inka extramural excavation contexts.

31

The mean of burnt bone percentages is 35.5 for all intramural Inka contexts and 21.7 for all extramural Inka
contexts. A t-test shows that this is a significant difference. (Equal variances not assumed, t= -2.15, df= 81.3; sig. at
0.05 alpha level). An increase in burnt bone percentages thus corresponds to a decrease in burnt pottery percentages.
The mean of burnt pottery percentages is 33.8 for all intramural Inka contexts and 41.1 for all extramural Inka
contexts. A t-test shows that this is a significant difference. (Equal variances assumed, t= 2.49, df= 141; sig. at 0.05
alpha level).

228

In sum, a complicated picture emerges. The intramural sector is surely defined by

restricted access a spatial difference that we would assume corresponds with differences in
access to material goods. But, seeming to contrast this spatial distinction, the excavation data
suggest that, during the Inka period, people within the extramural sector had access to many of
the same kinds of objects as those used by people in the intramural sector.
However, the analysis reveals stark differences in the overall quantity (sherd weight per
cubic meter excavated) of decorated pottery and serving vessels, as well as the percentage of
such sherds within the assemblages. Also, the construction of the intramural area coincided with
a remarkable increase in the intensity and frequency of materials associated with feasting
practices (charred bone, serving vessels). Increases in these materials correspond to a sharp
increase in the presence of non-local objects. They also differentiate the intramural from the
extramural sectors.
Thus, although similar kinds of activities were staged within both the intramural and
extramural areas, there was a statistically significant and socially salient difference in the scale
of these activities. Much like the architectural differences, the two discrete spaces were defined
by differences in the scale, and not the kinds of things and practices that were used within them.
That is, even though the same practices were staged in both sectors, the dramatic setting of the
intramural precinct constituted a formal space that certainly invested these practices with
heightened social significance and political meaning.

Discussion: Remaking Pre-Inka Places, Making the Inka State

Evidence from the physical transformation of Wata offers a striking example of how

229

Inka regional governance was predicated upon the dramatic transformation and resignification of
long-recognized political practices. During the transition to Inka rule at Wata, spaces for key
political practices like feasting and ancestor veneration were cordoned off and embellished.
Select residential spaces were destroyed and atop them a monumental Inka plaza was
constructed, signaling that collective consumption practices and important ceremonies could no
longer be associated with individual households. Pre-Inka storage areas were decommissioned
and replaced by a centralized facility situated next to the restricted monumental plaza.
Wilkapata, an area long-used for ancestor propitiation ceremonies, was cordoned off,
embellished with Inka symbols, and then encircled by massive walls.
Changes to Wata transformed, formalized, and regulated the practices that once defined
this place. During the transformative process, new elite residential structures were built within
the confines of a massive wall which effectively separated them from a commoner residential
sector situated outside. The excavations revealed little evidence for specialized craft production
or large-scale storage capacity within this intramural precinct. Such evidence would have
suggested that the intramural precinct of Wata was largely a place for the production or
redistribution of socioeconomic goods. In fact, excavations yielded high densities of decorated
serving vessels and charred camelid bone, implying that this intramural precinct was a largely a
monumental place for collective consumption events.
Within this precinct, multiple platforms and a plaza space constituted staging grounds for
ceremonial Inka feasting events. The surface collections suggest that these feasting events were
largely staged within the monumental Inka plaza. Indeed, the construction of the plaza and the
attendant Inka buildings thus established a formal stage for ceremonial events. A process of
regulation and formalization constituted through the replacement of preexisting institutional
230

structures and the emplacement of new formal and recognizably prestigious spaces was key to
both the restructuring of Wata and the foundation of Inka authority. That is, the regularized
social practices that previously defined this place were sharply regulated (much like in some of
the narratives of Chapter Two). Moreover, the construction of a massive wall at Wata indicates
that the Inkas at once fortified and sanctified this spacein rebuilding Wata they inaugurated a
new kind of exclusive space, while also declaring that they were prepared to defend this space
and their attendant claims to absolute authority.
Returning to a more regional perspective, we see that the changes within Wata were not
isolated occurrences. The survey data revealed that several OP sites within the Ollantaytambo
area were transformed at the same time as Wata; this correspondence indicates that these
institutional changes were part of a broader program through which the Ollantaytambo area was
restructured. OP sites containing evidence for pre-Inka feasting events and spaces for ancestor
propitiation ceremonies were often embellished through the construction of formal Inka
architecture like small plaza areas and niched buildings. The survey data thus indicate that within
select sites, political practices were relegated to formal and exclusive institutional spaces. The
production of these new kinds of formal political spaces corresponded to the creation of an
idealized order a compartmentalized landscape of people, places, and things.
The comparative regional data show that the embellishment of Wata is but a single
example of a much broader process of social change that occurred within select sites throughout
the Cusco region. At Pumamarka, an immense walled monumental precinct was built on a
hillside adjoining an extensive pre-Inka settlement. In the northern Cusco region, Qaqya
Qhawana (Juchuy Coscco), in the northern Cusco region, grandiose Inka monumental structures
were constructed, and effectively separated from a commoner residential sector (Kendall et al.
231

1992). In the northeast Cusco region, at Qhapaq Kancha, a monumental Inka plaza was
constructed within a dense preexisting village (Covey 2006a) in a fashion uncannily similar to
the architectural overlay at Wata. Inka niched buildings and plazas were built within the central
sectors of several large pre-Inka towns like Pukara Pantillijlla, where monumental Inka
structures form a nucleus around which earlier residential structures are clustered (Covey 2006a).
These regional data further suggest that early Inka political authority was first constituted
through the rigid social and spatial division of select preexisting political places, as well as the
austere fortification of the resulting Inka ceremonial spaces.
This discussion raises the specter of agency. That is, who directed these changes? At the
regional scale, the embellishment of select places, and the concomitant abandonment of others,
may reflect a process of alliance building, or a process of cooperative interaction among specific
groups throughout the Ollantaytambo area. Widespread continuity in specific places, and the
abandonment of others, suggests that local agents, perhaps elites situated in places like Wata
and Pumamarka, both cooperated with and participated in the process of Inka state integration in
order to bolster their own authority through association with the growing polity. Whether local
people were directly contributing to this process of conversion or acquiescent to demands from
Cusco, it is clear that the transformation and subdivision of this local place was essential to the
generation of a new kind of spatial and social structure (see Chapter Five).
At Wata, a process of spatial regulation corresponded to the production of an exclusive
space, conspicuous in its exclusivity and marked by the heightened scale of the buildings and
practices contained therein. The walling of this elite area bespeaks a political order based on a
sharp definition of absolute social difference. Excavated assemblages suggest continuity in the
kinds of materials used by the inhabitants of this space, further implying that local elites
232

participated in the transformations wrought throughout the advent of Inka rule. It would seem,
then, that the practices and places that had long defined local political authority within Wata
became the particular domain of a privileged few.

Conclusions: Emplacing and Defining Traditions of Authority

By attending to transformations in political practice at both inter-site and intra-site scales,
the chapter demonstrated how claims to early Inka political authority were emplaced indeed,
literally staked in the ground of preexisting political places through the selective modification
of already recognized seats of power. The data from the WAP indicate how the early Inka
political regime sought to establish its authority through the reorganization of the preexisting
social landscape the practices through which people perceive and experience space. This
process of reorganization occurred in two ways. First, traditional institutional practices and
places were both retained and regulated, as the practices through which local people participated
in political action were rendered exclusive and relegated to specific places within a sharply
defined, legible landscape (Scott 1998; also Mitchell 1988; Smith 2003). Second, throughout
the transition to Inka rule, once exclusive institutional practices came to require the production of
new kinds of political spaces that were conspicuous for their monumentality and exclusivity, thus
carving a fixed definition of absolute elite authority from the contours of the preexisting social
landscape while effectively separating domestic and state spheres of activity.
By establishing Inka political spaces within already recognized places, Inka authority was
clothed in the preexisting set of cultural practices through which politics was done. The data
suggest that the early Inka regime staked a claim to its authority specifically by staging
conspicuous feasting events within socially salient, pre-Inka places. It was important that these
233

Inka feasts were performed within these specific pre-Inka spaces. By staging feasting events
within these places, the Inkas and/or newly emergent elites declared their absolute dominion over
the places and practices that defined political authority. They declared that only certain places
and practices were political. Also, by limiting political expression to select places, potentially
subversive actions were controlled and circumvented. In this way, the practices and places of the
preexisting political order were strategically converted into the instruments of rule.
These findings raise an empirical challenge to perspectives on Inka governance that view
the Inka state and its institutions as the mere continuance of traditional Andean practices, norms,
social categories, and ethnic groups. 32 These archaeological data also greatly differ from the Inka
elite narratives of total conquest that were recorded by some of the Spanish chroniclers (e.g.
Levillier 1940: Sarmiento 2007[1572]). Indeed, the data show that some OP political centers
were embellished while others were abandoned, suggesting that the Inkas did not constitute their
authority through either the wholesale destruction or appropriation of pre-Inka institutions.
Rather, it appears as though the foundation for Inka authority were set by delimiting and fixing
the spatial parameters for political practice within select local settings.
The constitution of the Inka state was thus a selective process through which Inka was
defined when and as the preceding pre-Inka world was redefined (see also Chapter Five). The
Inkas may have claimed to uphold local traditions by embellishing and monumentalizing
significant pre-Inka places, but by embellishing only select places and rendering only these select
places exclusive, they redefined these places as sites of traditional Inka authority, and in so
doing, they effectively invented the very traditions that they claimed to uphold.
32

Given the Inkas selective transformation and redefinition of seats of power within this social landscape, it
appears evident that sixteenth century Inka by privilege groups do not always correspond to pre-Inka social and
political divisions.

234

Taken in tandem, the survey and excavation data illustrate that early Inka governance was
predicated upon the regulation and control of specific institutional practices within particular
places. Inka authority was rooted in the reorganization of these local political centers. Political
authority is not isomorphic with an array of institutions, nor is it simply expressed by a hierarchy
of settlements. Rather, it is only when political authority is localized within institutions, and
expressed in political practices, that it becomes naturalized and normalized (Dreyfus and
Rabinow 1982). On one hand, Inka authority was secured through the control of select
potentially powerful places and practices. On the other hand, elite authority was bolstered
through the production of exclusive spaces. In the following chapter, we will see how these
transformations corresponded to the production of the Inka state at places like Wata. Moreover,
we will see how, by participating in changes within these local sites, people redefined themselves
as subjects of Inka power.

235

CONTEXT

WAP
UNIT
NO.

ASSOC.
MATERIAL

LAB NO.

SAMPLE
MATERIAL

14C
AGE
B.P.

Below plaza
space
Below plaza
space

17

Formative

AA85884

Charcoal

2525

39

11

Formative

AA82718

Charcoal

2005

38

Mortar from
ovoid structure

15

OP Structure

10

CALIBRATED*
ONE SIGMA
68.2%
(OXCAL 4.1)
787- 555 BCE

CALIBRATED*
TWO SIGMA
95.4%
(OXCAL 4.1)
797- 522 BCE

3-118

-49-134

3-86 (63.1%)
108-118 (5.1%)

OP

AA82091

OP

AA85885

Charcoal

Charcoal

772

747

38

36

1230-1299

1221-1382

1230-1251 (16.3%)
1261-1299 (51.9%)

1221-1315 (84.8%)
1357-1382 (10.6%)

1229-1285

1216-1295

1229-1232 (3.2%)
1241-1285 (65%)

Ash above ovoid

structure

15

Inka Structure
(storage
building)

--

Ash below Inka

house floor

Fill below Inka

house floor

Inka house floor

13

Inka

AA82093

Charcoal

649

36

1314-1399

1299-1405

1314-1358 (49.4%)
1381-1399 (18.8%)

Inka

AA82719

Wood

464

36

1436-1489

1418-1619
1418-1507 (85.2%)
1587-1618 (10.2%)

OP / Inka

AA82089

Charcoal

701

36

1291-1386

1283-1392

1291-1320 (30.4%)
1351-1386 (37.8%)

OP / Inka

AA82090

Charcoal

670

36

1305-1391

1293-1399

1305-1329 (25.5%)
1335-1362 (28.6%)
1378-1391 (14.2%)

Inka

AA82717

Charcoal

659

36

1311-1395

1296-1402

1311-1360 (52.0%)
1379-1395 (16.2%)

1310-1459
Perimeter wall
-Inka
AA85886
Grass
(Wall daub)
Burnt stratum
5
Inka/
AA85881
Charcoal
above Inka
Spanish
house floor
Colonial
(abandonment)
Burnt stratum
4
Inka/
AA85882
Burnt Maize
above Inka
Spanish
house floor
Colonial
* SHCal04: Southern Hemisphere (McCormac et al. 2004)

566

54

375

35

1310-1360 (19.2%)
1379-1459 (76.2%)

1495-1625

1463-1633

1495-1516 (13.6%)
1540-1625 (54.6%)

302

35

Table 4.4: WAP Radiocarbon dates from Wata.

236

1391-1446

1521-1646
1521-1591 (49.6%)
1620-1646 (18.6%)

1481-1659

CONTEXT

UNIT
NO.

ASSOC.
MATERIAL

LAB NO.

SAMPLE
MATERIAL

14C
AGE
B.P.

Inka structure
(niched)

--

--

AA82720

Grass

672

45

Inka structure
(niched)

--

--

AA82721

Grass

462

36

CALIBRATED*
ONE SIGMA
68.2%
(OXCAL 4.1)
1278-1387

CALIBRATED*
TWO SIGMA
95.4%
(OXCAL 4.1)
1265-1397

1278-1310 (38.1%)
1360-1387 (30.1%)

1265-1330 (51.9%)
1339 1397 (43.5%)

1421-1451

1406-1486

* SHCal04: Southern Hemisphere (McCormac et al. 2004)

Table 4.5: Comparable WAP Radiocarbon dates from grass embedded in architectural mortar at Markaqocha.

237

CHAPTER FIVE
BECOMING INKA: PRACTICES OF DESTRUCTION AND CONVERSION AT WATA,
A PRE-INKA TOWN IN THE CUSCO REGION

Throughout the cataclysmic process of Spanish conquest and colonization, Inka elites
often testified to their new Iberian overlords about the crude barbarism they encountered when
first expanding the borders of their nascent state in Cusco. The Inka elites frequently explained
that, in accordance with their divine mandate to rule (Chapter Two), they destroyed or
transformed the villages and shrines of anyone who declared themselves equal or challenged
Inka claims to absolute authority. Oftentimes, these recountings painted the process of Inka state
expansion as one of necessary violence. Indeed, as we saw in Chapter One, a Spanish chronicler
records,

There was (a) ruler named Illacumbi from two towns located four leagues from
Cuzco, one called Cugma and the other Guata (Wata). Inka Yupanqui and Inka
Roca sent word to this ruler, telling him to give them obedience. Illacumbi
responded that he was a high elite like them and free, and if they wanted, that they
would have to get rid of them with their lances. Due to this response, they took up
arms against this ruler. Illacumbi and two other local rulers, named Paucar Topa
and Poma Lloqui, gathered their people together and went to fight the Inka, but
they were conquered and killed along with almost all of the their town. And this
place suffered fire and blood and many cruelties. And from there, the Inka turned
to Cusco and triumphed in his victory (Sarmiento 1965[1572]: Ch. 35; my
translation).
In numerous accounts such as this one, 1 the Inkas claim that it was through the utter
destruction of other places (or, more precisely, Others places), that they first secured their

In fact, the politicized nature of these accounts becomes evident in the next story in Sarmiento. Following
the story about Watas destruction, Sarmientos informants speak of how the Inkas destroyed Ollantaytambo, which
is a well-known late imperial Inka estate. Survey data from the WAP suggest that Ollantaytambo was largely
constructed and inhabited in the late fifteenth century decades after the events described here.

238

authority and cultivated order throughout the Cusco region (see also Bauer 1996; Silverblatt
1988; Urton 1999). In the passage above, Sarmientos Inka elite informants rendered conquest as
the end result of a contest between local claims to autonomy and Inka claims to regional
sovereignty. In this rendering, the Inka informants staked a claim to their authority by telling of a
series of destructive acts that culminated in the fiery devastation of Wata, its ruler, its people,
and its history. The local history of Wata and its people was reduced to a footnote within a
glorified rendering of Inka prowess and destiny.
Almost five hundred years later, contemporary people living within the shadows of the
massive wall at Wata relate a remarkably similar story of violence and subjugation at the hands
of the Inka. 2 They tell of the dramatic courtship of Wata and Inka. 3 It is said that Wata was
once a noble woman that resided within the peak upon which the archaeological site is situated.
Her striking beauty attracted many suitors, among them the Inka himself. Unable to curtail his
desire for this woman, the Inka ascended the precipitous cliffs of the Huarocondo canyon,
shaking the earth as he loudly declared his intent to take Wata as his wife. Perceiving this
spectacle, Wata stridently rejected the Inkas proposal. The Inka then reiterated the proposal,
this time issuing a command rather than a request. The princess declared that she would rather
die than agree to this betrothal. Indicating agreement, the Inka readied his sling. Some people say
2

Throughout the WAP survey, we asked local people to tell us stories about the sites that surrounded their
homes and fields. These were typically informal interviews, conducted in Quechua by Vicentina Galiano Blanco.
The interviews were largely conducted to clarify the toponyms within the immediate vicinity. Yet Ms. Galiano
would also ask local people what their grandparents and great-grandparents told them about specific places like
Wata. Several people living below Wata, around contemporary Anapawa and Pumatales, and several people who
worked for the WAP, repeated versions of this story of a Wata-Inka marriage proposal. This story is not contained
within known ethnohistorical sources. It is presented here only to introduce how history is embedded within specific
landscapes, and how memories of historical change are often rendered in stories about specific places. Further
ethnographic study of contemporary narratives about the Inka past would be necessary to place this story in context.

Stories of marriage between Inka and other infuse several other contemporary and historical narratives
about Inka political integration in Cusco. For instance, the Inkas told a story about a contest to bring water to
Pikillacta, in which a local maiden as a prize (Pardo 1937:199, cited in McEwan 2005:19).

239

that the Inka then killed the woman. Others state that she took her own life. In these stories, the
death of this woman signals the end of local autonomy, and the commencement of an Inka era.
Although these stories were derived from distinct historical and social contexts, and
certainly more fanciful than historically accurate, they introduce some themes that are key to
understanding how Wata and its people were incorporated into the Inka polity. First, they both
exemplify how the history of a particular local place may be inextricably linked to the perceived
trajectory of regional state development. That is, political actions within this specific place were
objectified for the people telling these stories, the destruction and conversion of Wata stand
in for the genesis of the state itself. Second, in different ways, both stories also foreground the
acts of conversion through which the ascendant Inkas subverted rival claims and denied the
autonomy of preexisting authorities. In describing the death of Wata (as either person or place),
they illustrate how aspiring political agents augmented their power and verified their claim to
authority in the very act of destroying and converting another place and its people. Finally, both
stories call attention to agency: that is, who were the social actors that assembled the early Inka
state? Who participated in, contributed to, or resisted the constitution this polity?
These stories of Cuscos early days are not simply accounts of conquest and destruction.
They are political statements about the state violence that constituted and concretized the
essential social categories of an Inka order. The history of this vanquished place and people is
erased as it is subsumed within the historical narrative of the state indeed, all that is now
known of Wata is that the defeat and demise of this place contributed to the rise of the Inka. Our
excavations at Wata uncovered traces of the practices and processes that were later crystallized
in these stories. However, although the excavations certainly reveal the dramatic process of
destruction through which Wata was put to death, they also tell a much more complicated tale of
240

the incorporation and subordination of a local people and their ancestral site.
In this chapter, I examine the initial creation of the Inka state by attending to how Inka
claims to absolute authority were, quite literally, put into place. Herein, I demonstrate that the
partial destruction and architectural conversion of Wata worked to support and naturalize Inka
dominance. I examine the particular practices through which Wata, a significant pre-Inka town
and shrine, was ceremonially put to death, then resurrected, in a process of conversion that
manifested the ideology of the nascent Inka polity and materialized the absolute social
differences that undergirded Inka rule. Excavation data from Wata provide a detailed account of
the cultural practices and processes through which preexisting structures were destroyed and
monumental Inka institutional spaces were built. In examining the transformation of this
significant pre-Inka place, I reveal a process of conversion that was crucial to both the
production of Inka authority, and the making of Inka political subjects.
More specifically, the chapter focuses on the practices that produced three kinds of Inka
institutional spaces within Wata a plaza, a storage area, and a house. These spaces are all key
instruments and institutions of Inka rule. Plazas were loci of the ceremonial feasting events in
which Inka legitimacy was performed and declared through a staged display of state largesse
(e.g. Coben 2006; Morris and Thompson 1985). Storage structures both symbolically and
physically represented the politys strength by illustrating its capacity to both provide for its
people throughout a drought or a poor harvest, and provision its armies (e.g. Hyslop 1984, 1990;
LeVine 1992; Morris 1967, 1992). Houses were constructed in remarkably standard ways
throughout the empire, indicating that regularity within the domestic sphere was essential to an
Inka vision of governance and order (e.g. Gasparini and Margolies 1980; Kendall 1985; Niles
1980). At Wata, the materials and spaces of the past occupation were converted into the
241

foundations for these Inka institutional spaces. By detailing the practices through which such
spaces were built, I demonstrate how the essential social order of the Inka polity and the absolute
authority of the Inkas were first constituted through the selective destruction and material
regeneration of important pre-Inka places. An inquiry into these practices reveals how claims to
the naturalized authority of the state are staked within contests over the value, definition, and
meaning of the very materials and spaces of our world.

Figure 5.1: Plan of Wat'a.

242

Under the Plaza

After passing the perimeter wall of Inka period Wata, a visitor would travel along one of
two pathways that meander to either side of Wilkapata, the imposing fortified peak around which
Wata was built. Directing movement along the edge of a precipitous ridge and through a series
of terraces and monumental platforms, these pathways all lead to a single place an expansive
white plaza flanked by immense red square buildings. This, the most monumental Inka space in
the site, becomes visible only after one walks the entire length of the fortified town. The
restricted location of this plaza immediately marks it as a special place, while its grandiose
architecture both evokes and reflects an Inka claim to political authority.
The architecture of Inka plazas manifests both state power and societal order. Theatrical
public ceremonies, especially collective feasting events, were often staged within the centralized
and extensive plaza spaces of immense imperial cities (Morris and Thompson 1985), or
exclusive elite compounds (Coben 2003, 2006), as well as early Inka monumental sites like
Wata (see also McEwan et al. 2008). Researchers have interpreted Inka feasts as political tools
that rendered potential rebellions quiescent through ostentatious displays of state largesse (e.g.
Bray 2003; Cummins 2002; Kolata 1992; Makowski et al. 2005; Morris 1993; Murra
1980[1956]; Ramrez 2005). Feasting events have also been interpreted as a kind of payment
for corve workers that had completed a state-mandated labor project (DeMarrais 2001:19). At
Inka feasts, participants were plied with immense quantities of food and drink, either in a
histrionic celebration of collective labor or in reverence of a state-ordained festival. Such events
were drenched in the symbols of Inka authority, including the distinct architectural styles that

243

framed the feast, 4 and the finely painted pottery that was often used in the feast. 5
In sponsoring these elaborate feasts, the Inkas cast themselves as the benefactors and
protectors of society. By giving food and drink to the attendees, they declared their role as the
givers of life, and thereby both performed and realized their claim to absolute authority and
rulership (Kolata 1996; Ramrez 2005). Inka state largesse thus sought to foster a permanent
feeling of indebtedness among people within local communities, thereby redefining these people
as political subjects inasmuch as they were forever obliged to a higher authority.
Archaeologists have documented evidence of Inka feasting events, but only in a very
limited number of contexts. Morris and Thompsons (1985) excavations in and around the plaza
sector of Hunuco Pampa, an imperial Inka city, recovered tons of ceramic vessels and materials
associated with food production and consumption (see also Morris and Covey 2003). Also,
research in the Mantaro region, an Inka imperial province, has revealed evidence for smallerscale feasting events associated with particular elite household patio groups, in both pre-Inka and
Inka contexts (Costin 1986; Costin and Earle 1989; DAltroy and Hastorf 2001; LeCount 1987).
Considering these examples, it is clear that the construction of formal open platforms and plazas
throughout Wata would have ushered in a drastic change in the institutional spaces, ceremonial
and everyday practices, and political meaning of this place.
The plaza at Wata is an early Inka plaza. That is, its spatial design and decorative
4

Some researchers cogently argue that the ushnu or central platform within many Inka plazas symbolizes
the body of the emperor himself (DeMarrais 2001; Zuidema 1989a). Noting the communicative properties of these
kinds of architecture, researchers have built on this argument by stating that Inka imperial rule was recognized and
understood across such a vast, multi-cultural and linguistically diverse territory due to the replication of a few
standard architectural symbols (DeMarrais et al. 1996).

Some researchers convincingly argue that a standard Inka ceramic vessel called the arbala was a material
representation of the Inka rulers body (Bray 2000, 2003; see also Cummins 2002, who makes a similar argument
about the iconography and materiality of Inka drinking cups, called keros).

244

adornment reflect both local pre-Inka architectural traditions, as well as the corpus of
architectural attributes that later defined the Inka imperial canon. Such a mixture of antecedent,
local, and developing state styles defines many early Inka sites in the Cusco region (see also
Kendall 1996; McEwan et al. 2005; Niles 1980).
The Wata plaza is not central, but it was built and adorned so that it starkly contrasts
both its immediate and its more distant surroundings. It is an open and flat space of about five
hundred square meters. This space and its cyclopean buildings stand out among the otherwise
dense clusters of residential buildings that make up the terraced vertical topography of Wata
(Figure 5.2). The plaza floor was made from a mixture of gypsum and sandstone sediments
locally derived materials that also adorned significant OP architecture, like tombs. The white
horizontal plane of the plaza must have gleamed in the bright high-altitude Andean sun. A series
of large square and rectangular buildings, painted red, 6 provided a vertical plane and vibrant
color that would have provided a sharp contrast to the white expanse of the plaza floor. The walls
of these buildings are over five meters in height, dwarfing the architecture of other structures
within Wata. Adding to the visual appeal of this area, the red and white plaza contrasts a series
of intricately cut maize terraces, an immense green geometry of undulating fields that flank the
mountainside directly visible from the plaza. Moreover, the plaza itself was built directly in front
of an immense and multi-colored sandstone outcrop (Figure 5.3). Within Inka sites, such
outcrops are often thought to be infused with otherworldly power 7 (e.g. Acuto 2005; van de

Red pigment still adheres to the plaster of some areas of these buildings, especially the internal corners of
niches. The perimeter wall at Wata and the large structures at Pumamarka were also painted red. Further study may
reveal that this color corresponds to a specific meaning or administrative function, as has been proposed for Tambo
Colorado, an Inka imperial installation on the Pacific coast (Craig Morris, personal communication, 2003).

Indeed, many local people said that this outcrop is a powerful place (or waka), and a place where they
often leave offerings during the planting season.

245

Guchte 1990). It is perhaps significant, then, that the Inka period plaza was built right in front of
this outcrop. Situated between a residential sector, this outcrop, and the terraces, the plaza at
Wata was monumental in both scale and location. Its immense buildings were the nexus of the
principal aspects of Wata, creating a sense of centrality by aesthetically and physically
conjoining different areas of the site and the surrounding landscape.

Figure 5.2: The plaza sector of Wata and its monumental niched buildings. The terraced backside of the
sandstone outcrop is visible in the background.

246

Figure 5.3: The plaza at Wata adjoins an immense multi-colored sandstone outcrop. The red and white hues of
the plaza would have corresponded to the red and white sandstone.

These visual fields and this architectural aesthetic surely contributed to the grandeur of
this space. Yet the political meaning of this plaza was also largely constituted by its hidden
monumentality. 8 Indeed, the plaza floor and foundation concealed the history of the place upon it
sat, as well as the practices through which it was constituted. The remains of a pre-Inka village
are buried below the plaza. In the two stories that opened this chapter, the authority of the Inka
was established through the destruction of another people and another place. Here, we will see
that the monumentality of this plaza, and the authority of the new Inka regime, was first
8

I borrow this phrase from Alan Kolata, who often speaks of hidden monumentality at Tiwanaku (Alan L.
Kolata, personal communications, 2001-2009). In employing this phrase, Kolata refers to the subterranean channels
that constitute the drainage system of Tiwanaku. I use the phrase to describe how a process of destruction and
construction itself is a monumental event of perhaps unprecedented labor organization and social coordination.

247

established and manifestedindeed, objectifiedin the particular destruction and construction

practices through which the antecedent village was extinguished.
The WAP excavated four units (constituting 16m2) in and around the plaza area units
10 (2x2m), 11 (2x2m) and 17 (2x4m) (refer to Figure 4.17b). Two of these units (10, 17) were
situated directly in the plaza space in order to recover materials associated with its construction.
The other (11) was located on a slope directly below the plaza surface in order to recover
discarded material from plaza activities. 9 In previous years, the Peruvian Instituto Nacional de
Cultura (INC) conducted unsystematic block excavations in the plaza sector of Wata, and
uncovered the remains of pre-Inka residential structures underneath the Inka period plaza floor
(Cuba 2002, 2003). In close collaboration with the INC, the WAP conducted limited excavations
in the plaza sector in order to compare results from the prior research to the data that were
obtained using more systematic techniques. Throughout the WAP excavations, samples for
radiocarbon measurement were extracted in order to place the occupational history of this
monumental area in an absolute historical trajectory. In addition to an intensive ceramic analysis,
faunal samples and macrobotanical materials were processed and classified. In this way, the
WAP builds upon and adds to the ongoing collaborative research at Wata.
Our excavations demonstrate that this early Inka period plaza covers the sites longest
continually occupied space. Densely occupied for over a millennium, the area upon which the
plaza was built most likely constituted the core of the pre-Inka settlement at Wata (Chapter
Four). When compared with our other excavation and surface collection units, this was the only

The unit located below the plaza space was situated in an area with high densities of OP and Inka pottery
fragments. Thus, we expected that plaza deposition occurred in this area. We excavated another unit (18; 4 x 4m)
within one of the monumental buildings that flank the plaza. Although some information was gained from this
excavation, I do not include Unit 18 in the analysis because much of this entire building context was disturbed and
perhaps looted in recent years.

248

area of Wata within which the densities of deposited artifacts remained stable over the sites
entire occupational history, from Formative to Inka periods. 10 While the occupation of some
areas within Wata waxed and waned, this sector seems to have remained important throughout
the occupational history of the site. Prestige objects recovered within this residential area suggest
that it was an elite space and/or an area for special, non-quotidian activities (Chapter Four).
After almost a millennium of continuous occupation and use, this residential area was
buried, burnt, and then rebuilt as an Inka plaza space. In attending to the specific practices that
produced this plaza space, we see how, rather than the utter destruction of Wata, a sequence of
coordinated and controlled action was essential to this process of architectural renewal and place
regeneration. In the conclusions, I will discuss the agents who directed this process, and also
emphasize that local people most probably performed the labor that transformed Wata.
The process of transformation was initiated when the circular and D-shaped pre-Inka
residential structures of this sector were demolished and interred beneath almost one meter of
fill. Houses were reduced to their foundations. It appears as though many of the walls were
disassembled, while others were toppled. That is, remains of walls that appear to have been
disassembled are very shallow, situated directly below the plaza, and are not associated with
much architectural debris, mortar, or rubble. In contrast, other walls (Unit 17) seem to have been
reduced through brute force. The array of stones, architectural mortar and rubble associated with
these other walls suggests that they were toppled (Figures 5.4-5.7). In these areas, a deeper fill
both covers the walls and serves as a foundation for the immense plaza buildings. While these
buildings were reduced in these ways, many other architectural features were left untouched. For
10

Significant shifts in artifact densities occurred in all of the other continually occupied spaces. Thus, some
areas within Wata were established, abandoned, and then later reoccupied. In some intramural units (e.g. Unit 14,
15), artifact densities dramatically decrease for one or two levels, even though the unit contains evidence for
occupation from the Formative to Inka periods.

249

instance, a canal that traversed the OP residential area was neither dismantled nor destroyed. It
was simply buried under the plaza (Figure 5.4) (see also Cuba 2003; Chapter Four).

Figure 5.4: Pre-Inka buildings under the Inka plaza. INC excavations in the plaza sector uncovered a tight
conglomeration of pre-Inka buildings and features. This drawing is my reproduction of a photo taken by Cuba
(2003). Depicted here are architectural alignments that were associated with OP materials. Note the architectural
material included in the intervening fill levels of the stratigraphy. 11

11

See Cuba (2003: 34) for the original photo.

250

Figure 5.5: Close-up photo of the OP architectural alignments uncovered within Unit 17 (2x4m) of the WAP
excavations.

Figure 5.6: Plan drawing of the OP architectural alignments uncovered within Unit 17 (2x4m) of the WAP
excavations. The demolition process is in part visible in the relation of fallen stone to stone still set in the mortar.

251

Figure 5.7: Plan drawing of OP architectural alignments uncovered within Unit 10 (2x2m) of the WAP
excavations. Much like some of the buildings uncovered by Cuba (2003), the shallow depth of this wall, the
preservation of architectural mortar, and the lack of rubble within this context suggest that the building was
dismantled. A row of river cobbles were placed next to the wall.

Although demolished and dismantled, it does not seem as though these buildings were
razed during a process of total site destruction, as Sarmientos informants would have it. Stones
and mortar that were derived from the layers underneath the plaza do not exhibit evidence of
burning, and there is very little ash associated with either the foundations of these structures or
the fill that directly covers them. Indeed, the profiles from Unit 17 indicate that the only fire that
was lit occurred long after the demolition of these buildings (below).
Altogether, that this OP residential area was in part demolished and in part dismantled
suggests its destruction was carried out according to the architectural plan that would follow. OP
buildings appear to have been dismantled if situated under an area that was to become open
plaza. They seem to have been demolished if situated in an area that needed support for building
foundations. Rather than a sweeping act of destruction, this was a systematic transformation
252

enacted with an eye for immediate rebuilding. The practices were more about ordering this place,
and less about its devastation. This suggests that the process was directed in such a way so as to
convert and translate an earlier elite residential area into a formal ceremonial area. In short, this
was not an act of annihilation. It was a planned process of renovation.
The area was then filled with rubble and trashbut not just any kind of trash. The people
who destroyed and then rebuilt this sector threw specific kinds of items into the fill. 12 When
compared with earlier excavation contexts from the same units, levels that correspond to the
destruction of the OP structures show a striking increase in percentages of decorated vessel
sherds (Figure 5.8). Inka polychrome serving vessel sherds were included in this fill, suggesting
that select objects were interred in this space precisely because they were valued and not just
past materials. The serving vessels also suggest a mimetic practice that is, select objects were
incorporated into this fill precisely because they were the items that corresponded to ceremonial
events that were to be staged in this place.

Figure 5.8: Percentages of decorated ceramics (by weight in grams) drastically increase within the levels (4, 5) of
Units 10 and 17 that correspond to the destruction of the preceding occupation.
12

The fill corresponds to levels 3-5 of Unit 17, although level 5 shows the most intense process of breakage.
The fill corresponds to levels 3 and 4 of Unit 10. In terms of strata, the fill layers are included within stratum III of
Unit 17 and stratum III of Unit 10. There was no drastic change in the stratigraphic sequence of Unit 11, thereby
suggesting that the plaza filling processes were highly localized, concentrated within the plaza itself.

253

Moreover, many of these objects appear to have been destroyed as they were interred.
Particularly large vessel sherds were recovered within these fill levels. A dramatic increase in
the overall weight to count index of ceramic material was documented within particular levels of
the plaza excavations. The weight to count index is a ratio of ceramic sherd weights to ceramic
sherd counts recorded within each level of each excavation unit. 13 A relatively higher weight to
count index from a context will mean that heavier, and thus typically larger, ceramic sherds were
in that context. We also recovered multiple sherds from single vessels. While the high percentage
of decorated serving vessels suggests that only specific certain kinds of objects were interred in
this area, the high weight to count index suggests that some of these objects were broken as they
were incorporated into the fill (Figure 5.9, 5.10).

Figure 5.9: These two graphs illustrate how peaks in Ceramic Weight to Count Indices correspond to the levels of
infilling in both the plaza sector units (level 5 in Unit 17, and level 4 in Unit 10).

13

The ratio is multiplied by 100 in order provide for easier comparisons across and within units. This
measure will vary by context. Thus, the significance of weight to count indices is assessed relative to previous levels
in the same unit, as well as similar levels within other units (see below). For example, a high weight to count index
would then mean that, within a specific context or unit, a certain level contained notably larger sherds than levels
situated prior and after.

254

Figure 5.10: Numerous whole Inka serving vessels were smashed above the fill levels. See also the examples of
smashed whole vessels in Cuba (2003: 25, 49).

These materials were not transposed from another context (i.e. it does not appear as
though the fill was not created or accumulated elsewhere, and then moved wholesale to this
area). First, it is notable that the fill layers contained broken decorated pottery, but very few
other kinds of artifacts. If the fill were made up of transposed trash, then we would expect other
kinds of objects, such as bones, lithics, and carbonized material. Second, relative to other
contexts throughout Wata, few eroded or highly eroded sherds (9%) were recovered from the
plaza fill levels, thereby suggesting that the material deposited in this area was buried directly
after its deposition. Altogether the interred objects seem to be kinds of ceremonial trash
(Walker 1995)objects typically associated with ceremonial practices, and then specifically
selected for deposition in this area.
Furthermore, some artifacts seem to have been intentionally placed among these wall
foundations, perhaps marking the burial of these structures. Particularly, in Unit 10, a row of
river cobbles was placed directly next to the disassembled wall (refer to Figure 5.8). 14

14

The meaning of these river cobbles almost escaped me. However, in Unit 6, we uncovered similar rows of
cobbles directly associated with OP walls and animal offerings. Thus, the cobbles appear to be part of a program of
renewal and renovation through which past structures were buried and new structures were raised.

255

Complementing the river cobbles, a quartz knife was laid directly on top of the wall.
Following the production of this fill, the area was leveled, and then a fire was lit above
the pre-Inka occupational context. That is, the people directing this process did not destroy the
previous occupation by burning it. Rather, they marked the destruction of the past village by
burning the space above it. We found evidence for this fire in the upper levels of the plaza area.
Our excavations uncovered a thick ash layer was situated directly below the compact white clay
of the plaza floor (Figures 5.11, 5.12). We did not recover evidence of an extensive stratum of
burnt wood or grasses associated with the ash lens. This layer consisted of nothing but ash,
suggesting that this was a clean, hot, and very short-lived fire. 15

Figure 5.11: Profiles from Unit 17 clearly show a dense ash layer situated above the fill and architectural
alignments, yet below the plaza floor (white line). Ash is directly associated with the plaza floor, as if it marked
the finale of the process.

15

Evidence for the fire was not found in a 2x2m excavation (Unit 10) that we excavated on the edge of the
plaza, thereby indicating that this was a controlled and highly localized event.

256

Figure 5.12: Profile drawings of the plaza excavation (Unit 17).

257

Very high percentages of burnt ceramics and burnt faunal remains were found on top of
the ash lens (level 5), suggesting that pottery and bones were thrown into the fire in order to
constitute a dramatic denouement to the interment process (Figure 5.13). The increase in faunal
bone densities also implies that consumption activity or trash dumping co-occurred with the fire.
Both the quick execution of the fire, and the associated dense concentration of faunal remains,
suggest that this fire was designed to cleanse the spacean agriculturalists way of clearing an
area before it was to be further cultivated through the construction of new architecture.

Figure 5.13: Higher percentages of burnt ceramics and fauna coincided with the ash.

Following the demolition and burning of this residential area, the people in charge of this
process directed the construction of an open plaza area, defined by a thick layer of compacted
white clay and sediment (refer to Figure 5.11). Inka buildings were built, and a restricted
architectural layout was emplaced (Chapter Four).
Excavations in and around the resulting plaza buildings suggest that they were formal
Inka institutional spaces used exclusively for food preparation and consumption during the early
Inka period (Cuba 2002, 2003). Thus, a program of destructive and constructive practices
transformed this past space while giving birth to new state institutions. A residential area that
258

had been intensively occupied for over one thousand years was thus dismantled, filled with
stones and broken objects, and then burnt. The materials of the preceding order were converted
into the foundations of the new order.
The monumental veneer of the Inka period plaza thus conceals the destructive ritual
sequence through which it was produced. In detailing the practices through which these
transformations were staged, we see that this was a planned process. The planned character of
the process is revealed in the different methods of destruction that were employed according to
the kind of space that was to follow. Moreover, the politically charged character of is largely
revealed in the selective destruction of valued goods throughout the interment of the OP
buildings. In this process, an important Inka political space accrued meaning through the
controlled destruction of the place upon which it was built. Below, I argue that the destruction of
valued materials within such select spaces was key to the establishment of a new kind of
authority rooted in exclusive spaces.
In the plaza, a striking political change was marked. Inkas, local elites, or commoners
may have directed this process. But, given striking continuities in architectural style throughout
Wata and its environs, it is highly probable that local laborers enacted this process (see
discussion, and Chapter Four). For local people, then, the new plaza and its attendant ceremonial
practices would have manifested an absolute change from past to present. Subsequently, when
people ate and danced in this plaza, they literally tread upon the remains of the earlier social
order.

In Storage Structures
In a process rivaling the plaza construction, several OP storage structures were burned,
259

filled with valued objects, and then buried beneath high status Inka buildings. Following the
interment of these structures, a new formal storage space bearing the architectural signs of the
Inka state was built near the plaza sector. This section details the practices through which two
such structures from the intramural space of Wata were interred.
Ovoid structures were uncovered in two intramural Units 15 and 16 (refer to Figure
4.17b). Unit 15 was a 2x6m trench situated within an ovoid Inka period house. Unit 16 was a
5x5m excavation conducted within and in front of an Inka period niched building. 16 Similarities
between the sequences of actions that built both the plaza and these new Inka spaces further
reveal the coordinated program of renovation and renewal through which Wata was rebuilt. As
in the plaza, these OP structures were situated directly below Inka buildings, suggesting that,
much like in the plaza, the interment of these past structures was essential to the physical and
symbolic foundation of the new buildings.
Directly beneath the floor of an early Inka niched building (Unit 16) lie the remains of
several OP structures. Among these are a canal, a straight wall of single-row stones and a small
ovoid structure (Figures 5.14 - 5.17). 17 Our excavations uncovered a similar small ovoid
structure (Unit 15) beneath the floor level of a large Inka period building (Figure 5.14). This
ovoid structure is bisected by the Inka period wall, indicating that it was partially destroyed
through the process of house construction. Both of these ovoid structures were exclusively
16

Our excavations also uncovered a third storage structure. Yet the practices that transformed the third
structure are detailed in the following section, since they were part of the total transformation of an OP household
area. Several similar structures were uncovered in Cubas (2003, 2004) excavations.

17

Partially cutting into the surrounding bedrock, the canal consists of two stone embankments covered by a
row of flat fieldstones. A deposit of silted sediments was found within one end of the canal, suggesting that it was
not cleaned, or was left in disuse before it was covered with fill and buried beneath the early Inka structure. The wall
lies parallel to the canal. Its measurements and morphology are consistent with other OP buildings. The canal, the
wall, and the ovoid storage structure were all uncovered within the same excavation level of Unit 16, beneath a
distinct Inka period floor level.

260

associated with OP architectural remains and materials. A radiocarbon date indicates that these
structures were constructed during the OP, within the thirteenth century. 18
The size and morphology of these small ovoid structures suggest that they were used for
storage. The structures were constructed from relatively evenly coursed and flat fieldstones set
into a thick mud mortar (Figure 5.14). 19 The walls consist of single rows of stones, like those
used in OP house construction, yet at a diminished relative scale. The structures did not contain
evident doors, suggesting that items were placed in and extracted from them through openings in
the top. Moreover, two of the structures have square openings cut into their posterior walls.
These openings most likely served as ventilation shafts, allowing for cool dry air to enter the
structure and therefore forestall the decomposition of materials contained therein (Figure 5.17).

Figure 5.14: OP ovoid structures at Wata. Note that Inka period walls bisect both structures, demonstrating how
buildings were raised above these ovoid structures as they were interred.
18

The sample was derived from charcoal that was embedded in the foundational mortar of an ovoid structure.
The date derived from this sample (AA82091) is 1236 C.E. 38. The calibrated date ranges are 1230-1299 C.E.
(68.2%) and 1221-1382 C.E. (95.4%) (OxCal 4.1).
19

The architectural morphology of these structures replicates in miniature the shape and dimensions of OP
houses. Each wall measures between 15-20cm. The walls were crowned with larger stones, suggesting that these
structures had a roof of some sort. Exhibiting a maximum diameter of 0.9-1.2m and a depth of 0.7-0.9 m, the
structures were relatively small and thus could not contain a large amount of materials when in use. The floors of all
of the structures consisted of the sandstone bedrock. The two structures that were uncovered within the intramural
area were actually cut into the surrounding bedrock, making them subterranean or semi-subterranean structures. The
interior walls were covered in a thick plaster.

261

Figure 5.15: In Unit 16, OP architectural features were uncovered beneath the floor of an Inka period niched
building (the Unit 15 plan is shown below).

Figure 5.16: A canal (left) and other OP architectural elements (right) were buried beneath the floor of an Inka
niched building (Unit 16).

262

Figure 5.17: The ovoid structure within Unit 15 contains a ventilation shaft, as well as burn scars associated with
the fire that was lit when the structure was decommissioned.

Comparative archaeological data and ethnographic analogies further suggest that these
were storage structures. Levalle (1973:102-103, photo 4) reports that there are similarly ovoid,
semi-subterranean structures at roughly contemporaneous settlements in the Central Andes near
the Mantaro region. In discussing these structures, Levalle (1973:103) also notes that,
throughout the early 20th Century, highland peasants of the Central Andes stored tubers in stonelined pits, called shunkullu. Similarly, agriculturalists living in the vicinity of Wata immediately
recognized these kinds of structures, adding that they remember how their grandparents used
similar structures to store grain and/or tubers. In light of these archaeological and ethnographic
observations, as well as their archaeological context at Wata, it is safe to assume that the
263

structures uncovered in the WAP excavations were indeed OP storage structures.

Scholars have long argued that managed Inka storage facilities were among the
institutional, social and technological innovations that underwrote Inka governance, allowing for
both the systematic and managed control of agricultural surplus, as well as rapid Inka expansion
across the Andes (e.g. DAltroy and Earle 1985; Levine 1992; Morris 1967, 1982, 1992; Murra
1980[1956]). Researchers in the Mantaro region have uncovered evidence that particular
households largely managed pre-Inka storage (Costin and Earle 1989). In that region, the
transition from household to centrally managed Inka storage represents a sea change in
institutional organization (DAltroy and Hastorf 2001). However, we currently know very little
about storage practices during the centuries that preceded Inka rule in the Cusco region. Prior to
this project, LIP storage structures had not been documented in the Cusco region. So, there is
little information on whether and how Inka managed storage spaces were linked to prior
practices and structures. The burial of these OP structures at Wata, and their subsequent
replacement with formal and central storage spaces, thus offers a rare glimpse of how Inka
institutional practices were first founded upon local structures in the Cusco region.
At the time of their interment, these ovoid structures were completely filled with cultural
material. We excavated the structures in five-centimeter arbitrary levels in order to fully
document any changes in the practices and materials through which they were filled and interred.
By attending to the detailed sequence of practices through which these structures were filled,
another program of destruction, cleansing, and conversion is revealed.
The people who decommissioned these storage structures first emptied their contents and
then lit fires inside of them. We recovered few artifacts from the lower levels of the units,
suggesting that the structures were cleaned prior to their interment. A lens of ash and sediment
264

lightly covered the floors of these structures. Although thin ash layers, burn scars on the interior
walls of the structures indicate that these were intense fires. 20 Neither ash lens contained charred
or unburnt organic materials, implying that, like in the plaza, these fires were made to consume
all of the fuel with which they were built. Artifact densities were very low in the bottom of the
units. But, high percentages of partially burnt ceramics from these lower levels suggest that some
objects were consumed in these hot fires. As in the plaza, these fires were therefore intense yet
ephemeral blazes.
After these initial fires were lit and fed with objects, people filled the structures with
whole ceramic vessels. There was no stone or sediment within this fill. Instead, it seems as
though the blazes were extinguished as the structures were filled with cultural material, as
evidenced by the burn scars on several sherds within the lower levels of the excavation. Many
pots were then either broken in situ, or broken throughout the process of filling the structures.
Indeed, a sharp increase in both overall ceramic weight and ceramic weight to count index occurs
in the middle levels of both units, indicating that larger fragments were deposited in these
contexts as the interment process progressed (Figure 5.18). 21 Smashed vessels were uncovered in
situ in both of these ovoid contexts. For instance, a large Ollanta Black and Red on Buff pot
(olla) was smashed along the wall of the ovoid structure underneath the niched early Inka
building (Figure 5.19). 22

20

About sixty percent of the stones within the structures interior walls exhibited white or blue burn scars.

21

The majority of pottery sherds derived from these contexts were fairly large (~15cm width). Few sherds
(12%) exhibit any evidence of weathering, thus suggesting that overall the ceramic samples from these contexts
were not transplanted from another context.

22

However, it was difficult to reconstruct many vessels from these contexts, suggesting that while some of
these vessels were broken in situ, many others were broken outside of the structure itself, and then only certain

265

Figure 5.18: These graphs show patterns of ceramic breakage in the ovoid structures. Relatively higher ceramic
weight to count indices (CWC) characterize the lower levels of both structures. Unit 15 shows a dramatic increase
in CWC at the end of its interment (level one). These CWC indices are highly significant, given that the mean
CWC for occupational contexts throughout Wata is 1.5 (see Discussion below).

Figure 5.19: Whole pots, like this OP storage vessel, were smashed within the ovoid structures.

pieces of the broken pottery were thrown into the ovoid structures. Indeed, we recovered numerous sherds that
pertained to the same vessel, yet could not always reconstruct the vessel itself.

266

As in the plaza, only specific kinds of pots were selected for interment in these contexts.
The majority (64.8%) of identifiable ceramic sherds recovered from these contexts were from
larger decorated OP jars, pitchers or ollas storage vessels of various sorts. Such vessels were
defined by rim characteristics form and diameter when the rims were present, and by the
width of the pots wall, or other attributes when the rim was not present. Serving vessels were
only present in the levels that correspond to the covering of the ovoid structures, and the Inka
period contexts that followed. Furthermore, most of these sherds were from highly decorated
monochrome slipped or polychrome vessels (Ollanta Black on Buff, Ollanta Black and Red on
Buff), 23 suggesting that only valued objects were interred in these contexts.
The ovoid structures also contained large amounts of tools used for food processing, like
spheroid river cobbles typically used for grinding and pulverizing maize. 24 Twelve grinding
stones were recovered in the ovoid structure underneath the niched building, while eight stones
were recovered in the ovoid structure underneath the conjoined houses. The selective interment
of storage vessels and grinding stones in these structures suggests a mimetic practice similar to
the practices documented in the plaza area. In other words, these places appear to have been
decommissioned through the interment of both their architecture and essential objects.
Although decorated storage vessel fragments and grinding tools constituted the bulk of
the material interred within these ovoid structures, the upper levels primarily contained large
amounts of decorated serving vessels. High percentages of both Inka and OP polychrome serving
23

72.3% of the sherds recovered from the Unit 15 context were decorated. 75.4% of the sherds derived from
the Unit 16 context were decorated. Of these decorated sherds, 64.2% from Unit 15 and 82.6% from Unit 16 are
monochrome slipped or polychrome vessels.

24

All of the recovered stones exhibited use-wear on their distal ends, signifying that these were tools and not
just river cobbles, like those interred in Unit 10.

267

vessels were uncovered within the two uppermost levels of both ovoid structures. In both
instances, the majority of the Inka sherds were recovered only in the upper levels. All of the
recovered Inka vessels were serving vessels. 12% of the total ceramic assemblage from Unit 15
was Inka. 8% of the total ceramic assemblage from Unit 16 was Inka.In both contexts, over 60%
of the sherds from the upper levels were Ollanta polychrome sherds. In Unit 15, these upper
levels also have remarkably high ceramic weight to count indices, reflecting how larger sherds
and whole vessels were interred in the final moment of the interment (Figure 5.18). As in the
plaza, the Inka sherds bespeak a process in which the destruction of decorated, and perhaps
highly valued, vessels was important to the conversion of a long-used place.
In the upper layers of the structures, the serving vessel fragments were associated with
specific kinds of animal bones and maize cobs, suggesting that feasting practices brought these
structures decommissioning to a close. As with the serving vessels, high densities of faunal
remains were only recovered in the uppermost levels (5-10cm) of the fill. More specifically, only
select kinds of fauna were deposited in these upper levels. In Unit 15 we encountered numerous
large whole camelid (Lama glama) bones in the upper levels. 25 These bones were disarticulated,
primarily representing the hindquarters of several animals. The hindquarters are the meatiest
portion of the llama and are typically thought to be the most highly valued portion in Andean
feasting contexts (Costin and Earle 1989). The llama bones were also associated with numerous
bones from a guinea pig, or cuy (Cavia porcellus porcellus Linne)a type of meat often found
in Andean feasting contexts (Sandefur 2001: 183).
25

Twenty-eight llama bones (271.2g) were recovered in the first ten centimeters of this ovoid structure.
Moreover, seventy-six (97.5g) smaller and unidentifiable mammal bones were collected from these same uppermost
levels. These unidentifiable mammal bones were crushed largely because they were affected by the postdepositional processes that occurred after this space was buried. However, the faunal analysts in charge of this
classification state that it is probable that they are also camelid remains (Victor Vasquez, 2007 personal
communication).

268

Also, in both units, charred dog remains were associated with an excavation level flush
with the crowning features of the ovoid context. Throughout our excavations at Wata, dog
(Canis familiaris) bones were only associated with particular contexts, typically those exhibiting
evidence for transformational processes, like construction or abandonment. A similar array of
dog bones covered Unit 16 are burnt and show cut marks, indicating that the dog was defleshed,
then roasted and perhaps consumed. In addition to these dog remains, large quantities of charred
white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus peruvianus) bones were associated with the uppermost
levels of these two storage structures. Given our excavation sample, it does not appear that dog
or deer were regularly consumed at Wata. 26
Dog remains were recovered in only a few contexts, specifically contexts that were
produced through the destructive acts of OP-Inka transition described here (Units 6, 15, 16, 17),
or the destructive burning through which parts of Wata were abandoned at the beginning of the
Spanish Colonial period (Unit 4). Dog was clearly a marked and special food that was associated
with particular non-quotidian events. Comparable sources document how dog and deer were
often special, elite, and non-quotidian foods among the Inkas (Sandefur 2001). The dog and deer
remains thus reflect the heightened significance of the practices through which these spaces were
transformed. Altogether, the faunal remains and associated serving vessels reflect suggest that a
small feasting event coincided with the final stage of the decommissioning, and that this feasting
event incorporated special kinds of meat, or animal sacrifices.
The people who enacted this process then placed llama mandibula atop the fill in each
context. The llama mandibula further suggest a ritual activity marking the denouement of the
26

In contrast, Sandefur (2001: 186) documents how dog consumption increased among commoners
throughout the onset of the Inka period in the Mantaro region. At Wata, there is no evidence for a similar trend of
regular or increased dog consumption.

269

burial of the structures. Similar to the dog bones, llama mandibula were only encountered
throughout Wata in select contexts corresponding to transition either the beginning of Inka
occupation, or the Inka abandonment of the site. These llama mandibula are directly associated
with concentrations of ash, as well as high densities of burnt ceramics and bone. The llama
mandibula suggest that certain animal offerings marked the burial of these structures.
After placing objects on the fill, the people enacting the process lit another fire. We found
a layer of concentrated ash above each of the ovoid structures (Figure 5.20, 5.21). The ash layers
conform to the size and the shape of the ovoid structures that lay below, signaling that fires were
small and controlled blazes. Thin layers of ash demonstrate t hat the fires almost completely
lacked unburnt organic material. These were thus hot fires that burnt all material contained
therein. These fires are thus similar to those encountered below the plaza floor. A radiocarbon
date from the ash covering the Unit 15 ovoid structure indicates that it was buried in the
fourteenth century, about one hundred years after the date derived from its foundation. 27

Figure 5.20: These photos show the ash layer (white circle) concentrated above the initial layers of the ovoid
structure in Unit 15 (left), and then the massive amount of broken material within this structure (right).
27

A date obtained from this charcoal sample (AA82093) is 1359 C.E. 36. The calibrated date ranges are
1314-1399 C.E. (68.2%) and 1299-1405 C.E. (95.4%) (OxCal 4.1).

270

Figure 5.21: These photos show the llama mandibula and broken vessels concentrated above the initial layers of
the ovoid structure in Unit 16 (left), and then the massive amount of broken material within this structure (right).

Figure 5.22: Unit 15 plan, showing the ash and ovoid structure.

The process came to a close when new Inka buildings were constructed. The resulting
Inka buildings housed specialized or high status practices that differentiated these structures from
others. For instance, the destruction of one of these ovoid structures entailed the founding of an
Inka house, a conjoined structure made from two OP circular buildings. The front wall of the

271

conjoined houses bears the architectural attributes of an Inka wall and doorway, such as ~80cm
wall width, quoins, and shaped stones. Our excavations did not uncover the remaining fragments
of the OP walls that had once separated the two structures, indicating that these walls were
completely dismantled when the new conjoined house was built. The front wall of this house
bisects the space of the ovoid structure (Figure 5.20). Numerous spindle whorls and bone
spinning implements were recovered in the Inka floor levels of this building indicating that, after
the interment of the structures below, this area was converted into a place for specialized textile
production.
The other ovoid structure underlies a niched building containing many exotic objects.
Recovered in the Inka levels of this building were high densities of non-local sherds, including
ceramic styles originating from the southern Cusco area (Colcha) to the Lake Titicaca region
(Pacajes). Such non-local sherds were rare throughout Wata. Exotic materials like shells from
the Pacific coast and guayaba seeds from the jungle were also encountered in the Inka levels of
this structure. These materials suggest that this building housed privileged people with notable
extralocal connections (see Chapter Four).
Following the destruction and burial of these OP structures, new formal storage structures
were built near the monumental plaza (Figure 5.23). Multiple ventilation shafts and interior
compartments verify the new buildings use as a storage structure. This new storage building
features architectural signs of Inka monumentality, like corner quoins and double-framed
windows (Chapter Four). A radiocarbon measurement derived from a wood beam within the
corner of this structure suggests that it was constructed in the early fifteenth century, within a

272

generation of the time that a fire was lit to commemorate the burial of the older storage space. 28

Figure 5.23: During the Inka Period, a storage facility was constructed next to the plaza space at Wata.

The decommissioning of these OP storage spaces marks a drastic institutional change that
is directly related to the establishment of the plaza, both in terms of the destructive and
transformative program employed and the social changes that this program inaugurated. The
prior OP household storage was replaced by managed storage, embodied by a formal and
centrally located structure bearing the insignia of Inka authority. It is important to note that there
is only one of these Inka storage spaces at Wata. And, it is doubtful that this lone structure was
meant to provision the entire population of the settlement. The storage structure is situated in a
restricted-access space, accessible only from within and near the plaza space itself. The location
28

A date obtained from this wood sample (AA82719) is 1544 C.E. 36. The calibrated date ranges are
1437-1490 C.E. (68.2%) and 1418-1619 C.E. (95.4%) (OxCal 4.1). The data is later than expected, which may be
due to the contamination of the wood from the structure.

273

of this one Inka storage structure suggests that it was used to directly support the feasting events
that were staged in the central plaza area.
More importantly, the new storage building replaced multiple ovoid structures that had
been distributed throughout the site. In other words, it is probable that several households
previously had the capacity to sponsor feasting events in the OP. Such an institutional
arrangement has been documented among the pre-Inka Wanka sites in the Mantaro basin (Costin
and Earle 1989: DAltroy and Hastorf 2001). Institutional change thus occurred when such
feasting events, and the authority that was performed in such events, were relegated to a formal
space the plaza. As in the survey data, the advent of regional governance thus meant that
feasting practices would be formalized, regulated, and contained, so as to ensure that such
practices could be directly linked to claims of Inka authority and legitimacy, and to mitigate and
control the potential for ceremonies to go awry (as argued in Chapter Four).
But essential to the instantiation of this new Inka order was a series of destructive
practices through which the structures of the past order were filled, commemorated and then
concealed. By interring and burning these structures, local people participated in practices that
both put past places to death and brought the new institutional order to life.
As in the plaza, striking differences between pre-Inka and Inka organization were first
established through these practices, and manifested in these specific pre-Inka places. Similarities
between the sequences of actions that built both the plaza and these Inka place reveal what
appears to be a ritual program of conversion a linked series of actions that are attributed
heightened significance and also are deemed culturally necessary in order to accomplish a goal
(e.g. Bell 1992, 1997; Bloch 1989; Swenson 2007). The overall goal of this ritual program
appears to be the redefinition of Wata as a definitively Inka place a place markedly different
274

from its predecessor, and a place of absolute authority. Such an explicit program of conversion is
also visible in the transformational sequences through which OP houses were destroyed and Inka
houses were constructed.

Atop the House

At Wata, select pre-Inka structures were also converted into archetypical Inka houses.In
fact, one of the more striking examples of architectural conversion occurred in Balcnpata, the
Inka period domestic sector situated outside of the monumental wall at Wata. Whereas the
conversion of architecture and space within the intramural area concerned the transformation of
residential places into formal, ceremonial and monumental spaces, the practices in Balcnpata
evoke a much more intimate relation between local people and a growing polity.
At about the same time that the inner core of Wata was restructured, a new residential
sector (Balcnpata) was constructed on a hillside situated outside of the sites massive wall. A
suite of radiocarbon assays indicate that the structures of the extramural Balcnpata area were
constructed within roughly the same generational period (~30-50 years) as the monumental Inka
buildings within the intramural area of Wata (Chapter Four; refer to Figure 4.31; Appendix A).
In this sector, residential structures were buried and filled, and then replaced with new residential
structures different houses occupying the same place.
Excavations in the Balcnpata sector were distributed so as to maximize the amount of
comparable contexts from Inka houses within this area (refer to Figure 4.17c). Units were
arranged to concentrate on the interior and exterior spaces of Inka period houses. Our

275

excavations 29 were conducted in order to understand the occupational history of this sector, as
well as the activities that defined Inka period residential life in this area relative to the samples
from the intramural area.
Similar to the intramural area, only certain spaces of Balcnpata were converted. In
Balcnpata, only one excavation unit contained evidence for a sequence of pre-Inka occupation
and transformation (Unit 6). 30 Unit 6 was a 4x4m excavation unit situated within and outside of
an Inka house. 31 The surface-level features of this house are no different than the others that were
positioned on the hillside there are no significant or notable differences in terms of the houses
position, architectural style and elaboration, or associated surface-level artifacts. Yet, contrasting
the other units, excavations within both the interior and exterior spaces of this house revealed a
continuous and deep stratigraphy containing overlapping architectural features and structures.
Thus, this house was continuously inhabited over the span of centuries.
Concealed beneath the floor of this Inka period house were the remains of an OP
domestic space, including a house and an ovoid storage structure (Figures 5.24, 5.25). Three OP
walls were uncovered underneath the floor of the Inka structure within the lower levels of our

29

Nine units were excavated in this sector. The units comprise an overall areal extent of 48 square meters. 26
square meters of the excavations were situated within the observable residential structures. 22 square meters of the
excavations were situated within patio and open platform areas. Conducted in tandem, these units provided for
documentation of materials, practices and depositional processes that defined the interior and exterior spaces of
these structures.
30

More precisely, only Unit 6 contained the remains of OP structures. Within the Balcnpata sector, Units 4
and 20 contained densities of pre-Inka pottery sherds in limited contexts.

31

Unit 6 was situated in effort to reveal the southern end of the structure, the doorway, and a portion of the
patio. This particular structure was chosen for two reasons. The surface collections recovered a medium density of
Inka period sherds from this area. And, preservation conditions were good in this area, allowing for surface visibility
of the structures doorway and patio. That said, due to tectonic processes and erosion, the northern end of the house
had completely collapsed and eroded down the steep slope below. This is why the unit was situated as a 4x4m unit
covering the southern half of the structure and its patio.

276

excavations. The stones, width, mortar and alignment of the walls all correspond to the types that
have been established for OP residential structures. One forms an ovoid shape within the
northern portion of the house. In terms of its size, depth, and construction style, this ovoid
structure is morphologically identical to those uncovered within the intramural sector of Wata. 32
The close association of the other walls and the ovoid structure suggest that they were elements
of an OP household (a house and patio group).

Figure 5.24: Different views of the buried OP architectural features within Unit 6C.

32

This ovoid structure was buried beneath an Inka period house floor (Unit 6). This particular storage
structure was the only of its kind documented in the extramural area, which is largely defined by Inka period
constructions and cultural material, as well as an almost complete dearth of diagnostic OP ceramics or architecture.
Thus, given the lack of other signs of OP occupation within this area, the location of this subterranean storage
structure is unusual, although further excavations in this area may uncover additional OP structures.

277

Figure 5.25: OP architectural elements beneath the Inka floor within Unit 6.

At first, the interment of these structures was a rather quick and inconspicuous affair. The
people who enacted the process first filled the structures with sediment a thick (1-1.7m) and
clean fill containing few artifacts. Excavation levels that corresponded to the bases and interior
spaces of the walls were relatively sterile, containing only a few small pottery sherds and chips
of charcoal. After almost completely covering the house in sediment, they lit a fire. Evidence for
this fire appeared in the layer that abuts the crowning features of the OP walls. This ash layer
spread throughout the entire unit. But, darker concentrations of ash were specifically situated
near the buried architectural alignments, suggesting that the fire was lit in order to exhaust the
278

fuel within specific locations and then spread throughout the area. As in the other sequences,
there were few charcoal pieces associated with the fire, suggesting that it was a hot blaze that
destroyed all of the grass or wood material used as fuel. A sharp increase in materials was
associated with this fire, including relatively high percentages of burnt faunal and ceramic
materials (Figures 5.26, 5.27). These objects and this fire correspond to the opening act of
another series of conversion practices.
As the embers of the fire burnt out, ceramic sherds and refuse were deposited into the fill.
Objects and offerings were deposited only a few centimeters above the OP walls, and only 10-20
centimeters beneath the living floor of this house. 33 Within a few excavation levels, sherd
weights increase relative to a dramatic decrease in burnt ceramics, indicating that people began
to throw pottery sherds into the space after the fire had run its course.

Figure 5.26: Graph showing a sharp increase in the weights of deposited material within specific levels of two
quadrants within Unit 6 that correspond to the OP-Inka transition (the increase [right]corresponds to contexts
60311-60313 and 60411-60413; see Appendix C). The other increase (left) corresponds to Inka occupation and
abandonment.

33

The excavations in Unit 6 were sectioned into subunits A, B, C, D. Each of these units was a 2x2m
excavation unit, in which arbitrary ten-centimeter levels corresponded to the other subunits. The ground surface was
sharply uneven in this area, perhaps due to tectonic activity. Indeed, the floor and foundation of the Inka house are
now situated at about a 25 degree angle. To account for these processes, the first excavation level of Units 6C and D
were equivalent to levels 10-12 of Units 6A and 6B. For this reason, the transformative events described here
correspond to levels 10-13 of Units 6A and 6B, and then levels 18-22 of Units 6C and 6D. However, examination of
the stratigraphy reveals that these levels correspond to the same processes and practices.

279

Figure 5.27: Illustrates increases in burnt ceramic and fauna percentages within specific levels of U6C (the
increase corresponds to contexts 60311-60313; see Appendix C).

The people enacting this process again chose specific kinds of materials to be interred in
this context. In the ceramic sample, decorated OP and Inka monochrome-slipped and
polychrome vessels constitute the majority of the sherds recovered from these levels (62.9%).
Moreover, serving vessel sherds comprise the majority (58.3%) of the identifiable ceramic
sample from these contexts almost double the percentage of serving vessel sherds recovered
from other contexts in the Balcnpata sector. In particular, Inka polychrome and OP
monochrome slipped serving vessels sherds were deposited in concentrated areas of the fill, in a
ten-centimeter vertical space that abutted the crowning features of the two LIP walls. The
mixture of OP and Inka sherds in these levels indicate that this was more than just the destruction
of past things and places, but rather a transformation of space within which certain, perhaps
valued, objects were incorporated.
Special offerings were also placed amidst the pottery. A dog and a cuy were interred in
situ between the OP walls (Figure 5.28). Dense concentrations of associated ash suggest that the
cuy was burnt in situ. The cuy was situated directly in front of what was to become the doorway
of the new house. The dog remains were scattered between the LIP wall and the ovoid structure.
It is significant that dog and cuy were associated with one another within this level. Within our
280

excavations, dog and cuy were often found together in levels that correspond to either the LIPInka transition. Thus, in constituting the new space, select things were interred, and these things
were placed in specific contexts that drew a link between the past and present occupations.
Following the interment of these offerings, three rows of small cobbles were laid on the
surface of the fill, between the animal remains and the walls (Figure 5.29). Similar to those
uncovered in Unit 10, these are thin and slightly meandering lines of small (5-15cm) round and
semi-angular river cobbles. No mortar connected the stones, which were placed in a single row
without additional stones attached below. The cobbles were uncovered within both the exterior
and interior portions of the Inka house. Although the meaning of these cobbles is unknown, their
interment suggests that they are associated with this sequence of transformative practices.
Moreover, the positioning of the river cobbles suggests that there were intentionally placed as
part of a set of practices that linked the multiple offerings.
The people who enacted the process then situated a human burial within the fill context.
The body is located underneath the floor of the Inka house, in the corner. Linking the OP and
Inka walls, the body is also situated at the nexus of one of the lines of cobbles and one of the OP
walls (Figure 5.28, 5.32). The burial 34 was placed within the mixed OP and Inka levels of broken
pottery, offerings, architecture and fire a thoroughly intermediary level and space situated
between the walls of the old and new houses (Figures 5.31, 5.32).

34

The body was buried in an upright crouched position, a common mortuary position within the prehistoric
Andes. Using standard techniques of macroscopic osteological analysis (Bass 2005), preliminary field examinations
reveal that this skeleton corresponds to a female, aged 40-50. Further osteological investigation is necessary to
discern whether the skeleton contains evidence of pathologies.

281

Figure 5.28: This photo shows how a human burial, a cuy offering (circle in front of the house door), and a row
of cobbles were all directly associated with the OP walls underneath the Inka building of Unit 6.

Figure 5.29: The excavations underneath this Inka house revealed how rows of river cobbles were placed next to
OP walls right before these OP walls were buried underneath the new structure.

282

Included with the body were a set of weaving tools a ruki pick made from deer bone
and a knife made from slate. These objects signal how, in Inka mortuary practices, the objects
and tools that were once associated with a person must be put to death along with the person. A
further example of this practice was uncovered underneath another house (Unit 1, see below).
Following the interment of this body, the people enacting this process spread a thin layer
of sediment over the entire fill level. Then they lit a small fire above the burial. Our excavations
recovered a high density of broken OP and Inka serving vessels associated with the ash from this
fire. Many of these sherds corresponded to the same vessels, and very few of them were burnt,
thus suggesting that the pottery was broken in situ after the fires were lit, or as the fires were
dying down a practice that was common to all of the instances detailed here. As in the other
contexts, a final fire marked the denouement of the transformative process.

283

Figure 5.30: This plan of Unit 6 highlights only the offerings and their depths in order to demonstrate how all of
these features were deposited at the same time.

Figure 5.31: Smashed whole vessels within the ash layer underneath the Inka floor.

284

Figure 5.32: A burial situated at the nexus of OP walls underneath the Inka floor.

Specific objects were recovered from this final ash layer, including a llama mandible and
marine shell fragments. It is apparent that these items bore symbolic significance, and were thus
incorporated into these practices. The shell would have most likely heightened the significance
of the process since this is such a rare object within the south central Andean highlands.
An Inka house was then built. The wall of the new Inka house bisects the OP household
that is its foundation. Two radiocarbon dates from this context suggest that these practices were
enacted during the fourteenth century at the same time that massive architectural and
institutional transformations were occurring within Wata. 35 The construction of the wall, the
plaza, and the monumental Inka buildings marked a radical change in the institutions and
appearance of Wata. Yet the many of these changes were also generated, reified and recognized

35

Radiocarbon measurements were derived from two excavated charcoal samples from both the fill and the
ash layer covering the pre-Inka house. These samples yielded AMS two-sigma calibrated dates of 1307 36
(AA82089) and 1338 36 (AA82090).

285

within intimate spaces like this household.

Figure 5.33: The stratigraphy of Unit 6 reveals the complex process through which the past structures were
buried and the new house was built.

Similar practices were enacted in order to found other Inka structures in the Balcnpata
sector. For instance, a human burial was incorporated into the architectural foundation of another
Inka residential structure within the Balcnpata sector. The building (Unit 1) is situated near the
entryway into the inner core of Wata, and at the nexus of two paths that lead to and from this
entrance. Our excavations revealed that this area was only occupied in the Inka period. High
relative densities of decorated Inka serving vessels were derived from this context, indicating
that it was perhaps a locale for consumption events or other collective practices. Moreover,
286

hearth features and burnt maize kernels recovered within and around the structure suggest that it
was a locale used for food preparation. Overall, this space most likely functioned as a site of
food preparation and/or consumption, much like the larger niched structures that are associated
with many Inka residential sites and sectors (Chapter Four).
A human body was interred within the foundation of this building. A burial was
uncovered approximately 30cm below the compact clay floor and the foundation stones of the
structure. The burial was covered with a large burnt broken pot (an Inka olla), and surrounded by
maize grinding stones. As in the other contexts, the objects associated with the burial seem to
mark the kinds of activities that defined this person. Similar to the other sequence, a small fire
was lit above the burial, in order to mark the transitional space between the body and the floor of
the Inka structure.
In Balcnpata, the sequence of transformation replicates the program employed in the
intramural sector. The construction of these Inka houses outside of the wall directly
corresponded to the destruction of the pre-Inka houses within the wall. As in the other examples,
this process of renovation concerned the establishment of absolute differences. In building this
household, local people differentiated a pre-Inka place from an Inka place. They built an
archetypical Inka house, an example of the kind of standard domestic space found throughout the
Balcnpata. In building these Inka houses, local people established an everyday counterpart to
the monumental and fortified precinct within Wata.
But, the household sequence also emphasizes how in transforming these spaces, people
were likening the death of people to the death of place. The closing and conversion of household
spaces was rendered theatrical through the selection of specific valued objects, the lighting of
repeated cleansing fires, and the placement of offerings. In these contexts, there is a marked
287

isomorphism between the burial of people and places. Burials and offerings were not in the
foundation of the places; rather, they are the foundations of the places. Similar to mortuary
practices, these actions marked a boundary between the pre-Inka past and the Inka present.

Discussion: Concealing the Past, Emplacing the Present

The evidence from Wata reveals the dramatic transformation of a local pre-Inka site, a
process of regeneration effected through destructive rites of renewal. These acts of place
conversion entailed a suite of practices that established categories of absolute social difference
the categories undergirding claims to Inka authority. Indeed, the dramatic changes that were
wrought on Watas precipitous hillside are the changes that cemented both the foundation of the
Inka polity and the absolute authority of its elites.
The conversion of Wata was not simply a process of reconstruction and renovation. It
was selective and strategic, performed through techniques of destruction and construction that
occurred only within politically significant spaces. The sequences detailed here were only
uncovered within select excavation contexts (six of twenty-one units). As in the survey, the logic
of transformation was not totalizing (Chapter Four). Yet it is in the practices of demolition,
destruction and reconstruction that we can begin to understand how and why Wata was so
drastically converted.
The architectural and excavation data demonstrate how some areas of Wata were buried
under Inka constructions, while others were continually occupied. For instance, excavations
along the ridgeline revealed that grandiose Inka period structures were built upon previously
unoccupied terrain (Units 9, 12, 19). In contrast, surface architectural features and excavations in
other areas of the intramural sector (Units 13, 14) show how many circular and D-shaped OP
288

buildings were continually occupied and used as residential spaces throughout the Inka period. In
other areas, some earlier OP buildings were dramatically demolished and converted into formal
Inka spaces (Units 10, 11, 17). Primarily OP elite residential buildings were demolished and then
replaced by a more formal plaza and elite residential space, indicating that the process was more
about the aggrandizement of specific elite spaces than the destruction of a place.
The entire space of Wata was remade through the conversion of only places seen to be
key elements of the whole. Contrasting Sarmientos account, evidence for fire was rare within
the excavations (Chapter Four). Fires were limited to discrete contexts in which rituals of
transformation were staged, as will become clear in the practices described below. Thus, instead
of seeking to demolish all remnants of the prior space, as if to completely erase the past
occupational structure, the agents of this transformation targeted and then greatly embellished
only intentionally chosen buildings and areas.
Throughout this process of selective transformation, the past order was concealed while a
present order was constructed. An Inka ceremonial area was specifically carved from the
contours of an elite residential area. Pre-Inka storage areas were decommissioned and replaced
by a centralized facility situated next to the restricted monumental plaza. Altogether, a rigid
spatiality was emplaced as the practices of the preceding period were relegated to specific spaces
associated with the Inka state. Finally, a massive perimeter wall enclosed the newly constructed
precinct, rendering an exclusive, fortified, and sanctified Inka space. The new spatial
arrangement bespoke a dramatic break with the preceding social order. It physically manifested
a concern with the containment of political practices within the highly exclusive spaces that
undergirded Inka claims to absolute difference and authority.
Conspicuous in its monumentality and exclusivity, the new Inka space of Wata was
289

produced through a common suite of coordinated destructive practices a rite of regeneration

through which the preexisting place was extinguished and a new place was inaugurated. Both
particular actions and particular sequences of action were repeated in distinct contexts. First,
intense but controlled fires were lit within only specific places. Certain kinds of valued objects
were then selected and often smashed amongst the burning embers of these places. 36 Among
these objects, shattered fragments of decorated pottery, carefully laid river cobbles, and offerings
of guinea pig and llama mandibula indicate that special items were perceived to be essential to
the decommissioning of these pre-Inka places, much like how only specific items were often
interred along with human burials. Finally, a thin layer of sediment was spread over the material
contained within each place, and a final intense but controlled fire was lit. Feasting practices
often occurred at the time that these fires marked the denouement of this process. After these
sequences were completed, each pre-Inka place constituted the foundation for Inka structures.
The objects interred within these spaces river cobbles, llama mandibula, cuy, decorated
pottery were more than just wealth, more than just the good china. And the practices with
which these objects were associated were more than just renovation and construction activities.
The offerings and special feasting practices complemented the destructive interment of these
valued things, lending an air of solemnity and a degree of theatricality to this conversion process.
Special practices coincided with the special items. Within all contexts, traces of feasting
events, often including unusual fare (dog and deer), reveal that this was a sequence of practices
through which an extraordinary social change was marked. Ethnohistorical sources provide some
36

All excavation contexts were classified according to depositional processes. Contexts were classified by
broad categories, e.g. OP occupational, OP-Inka transition (fill), Inka occupational. Comparisons were then made
between the contexts. It is notable that the average ceramic weight to count ratio for all OP-Inka transition contexts
(2.4) is almost twice that of all OP occupational (1.5) and all Inka contexts (1.8). Although overly general, this
difference further underscores how larger, and often broken, ceramics were interred in these contexts.

290

clues about Inka consumption of such non-quotidian items. For instance, the Cusco-born Spanish
chronicler Garcilaso de la Vega (1976[1609]: Bk. 6, Ch.10) states that the Inkas derogatorily
referred to their rivals the Wankas as dog eaters (comeperros), an insult that may reflect a
perception of absolute social difference rather than actual practice (also Avila 1987[1598]: 161).
Similarly, the Anonymous Jesuit (1968[1594]: 155) emphatically states that Andean people did
not eat dog. The evidence from Wata, however, suggests that dogs were consumed only during
the process through which these spaces were transformed, or they were emplaced as offerings.
Consistent with these data, several chroniclers claim that dogs were used in sacrifices
(Anonymous Jesuit 1968[1594]: 154; Avila 1987[1598]: 161). Others add that dogs were eaten
during sacrificial practices (e.g. Cobo (1964[1653]: 202). In light of these ethnohistorical data,
and the archaeological contexts revealed here, the samples of dog remains from these units (and
only these units) further underscore how this sequence of practices at Wata was meant to mark a
significant and unprecedented transformation. More precisely, when considered along with the
smashed vessels and objects, the dog remains suggest that everyday pre-Inka practices and norms
were destroyed and thereby converted in order to mark and make a dramatic historical
transformation.
Indeed, the defining political spaces of the new Inka order were built through the
destruction of these things and places the destruction of these things was essential to the
conversion of the whole place. That is, the prior political order had to be invalidated if the new
political regime was to be inaugurated. Thus, it was essential to destroy these valued things in
these specific places. In describing such practices, Connerton (1989: 9) accentuates how a rite
revoking an institution only makes sense by invertedly recalling the other rites that hitherto
confirmed the institution (see also Bell 1992; Geertz 1973; Turner 1982). In comparison,
291

archaeologists have recognized how Maya termination rituals were performed to kill the power
that resided within certain places (Coe 1959; Boteler Mock 1998; Schele and Friedel 1990). But,
in this case, Wata was put to death only to be resurrected.
Though we may never know whether Inka elites, local elites, or local commoners
directed this process of conversion, it is highly probable that local hands enacted it. Throughout
the survey, continuity in settlement patterns, tomb morphology, political places and ceramic
styles suggests that there was continuity in local authoritative structures, in light of the dramatic
changes in institutional practice that were wrought throughout Inka polity formation (Chapter
Four). Indeed, local architectural and ceramic styles are continuously produced and used at
Wata throughout the Inka period (Chapter Four). Specific local materials and styles of bodily
adornment, such as carved steatite beads, were also continuously used at Wata from the
Formative to Inka periods, thus suggesting long-term continuity in the social group that inhabited
this site (Chapter Four). Furthermore, besides Sarmientos account, most ethnohistorical sources
document how the people of this area (Quilliscache) were early allies of the Inka and Inkas by
Privilege: they were recast as integral members of the Inka kin system (Garcilaso de la Vega
1965:56-57; Guaman Poma 1980:310; Santa Cruz Pachakuti Yamqui 1968[1613]). In fact, it
appears as though local laborers reproduced Wata, and because of their labor, these local people
were redefined as lower class members of an Inka extended family.
Moreover, the care and programmatic sequence through which these spaces were closed
strongly suggest that people who revered and respected the spaces of Wata directed this
transformation. These were acts of destruction performed in order to reinvent Wata. They were
not acts of total annihilation. The agents who directed this process may have been Inkas, or they
may have been local elites or commoners that were acquiescent or subject to demands from
292

Cusco. Either way, in converting this significant local place, these local people participated in
the production of the nascent Inka polity. The challenge, then, is to understand how these
localized practices themselves were important to the nascence of the new polity and the
generation of a new kind of authority.
In directing these practices of conversion in this place, these agents literally and
figuratively constituted the absolute differences the essential categories of social value upon
which Inka authority was built. By smashing objects within pre-Inka places, they produced a new
space that manifested an absolute difference between pre-Inka and Inka ways of life.
Simultaneously, by constructing monumental buildings and a colossal wall, they manifested an
absolute difference between outside and inside, non-Inka and Inka, spaces. Returning to a
regional perspective, we find that walled exclusive spaces were raised at other pre-Inka places
throughout the Cusco region. At Pumamarka, an immense walled precinct was built on a hillside
adjoining the extensive pre-Inka settlement. Qaqya Qhawana (Juchuy Coscco), in the northern
Cusco region, replicates the spatiality of Wata and Pumamarka (Kendall et al. 1992). At this
site, grandiose Inka monumental structures are separated from a nearby residential sector.
Similar to the architectural overlay at Wata, Inka niched buildings and plazas were built within
the central sectors of several large towns like Pukara Pantillijlla and Qhapaq Kancha (Covey
2006; Dwyer 1971). Radiocarbon dates indicate that many of these sites were architecturally
embellished at about the same time within the mid fourteenth century (Appendix A). I contend
that the authority of the new Inka regional class was rooted in such claims of absolute difference
differences between pre-Inka and Inka, outside and inside, barbarous and civilized and
such claims were manifested in the practices that built these exclusive spaces.

293

At Wata, then, we see how such exclusive spaces were produced through practices that
converted pre-Inka places into Inka ones, thus establishing a sharp distinction between past and
present orders. The Inka elite narrative with which this chapter opened describes the process of
Inka state formation it was, indeed, a process during which prior places were erased, and their
particular meanings were destroyed. Yet such Inka myths neither describe how this
transformation was effected, nor do they describe how it established the foundation of their state.
It is clear that such practices converted specific places like Wata and that they did so by means
of procedures that reflected radically alternative values put in place by an emerging Inka elite. I
argue that the simultaneous transformation of local pre-Inka places erased their particular
origins, histories, and meanings, converting them into abstract and exclusive spaces spaces that
shared the same Inka origin, the same Inka history, and the same Inka meaning. The changes
documented at Wata, then, were not simply changes in the meaning of a local place. Rather,
through the conversion of such local places a general regime of absolute social difference was
manifested and a regional state was inaugurated. Put simply, it was emplaced.

Conclusions: Becoming Inka Subjects

At Wata, by smashing these things and burying these spaces, local people ritually laid
the foundation for a new kind of authority. In a much-cited treatise on collective memory and
ritual, Paul Connerton (1989: 39) remarks how people perceive and experience historical change
through participation in new political regimes are ceremonially inaugurated through ritualized
acts of transfer from one mode of organization to the next. In such acts, the things of the prior
political order are often destroyed or inverted, thus both marking and making a dramatic
historical leap from past to present regimes (Connerton 1989: 9). In this sense, such practices of
294

transition are necessary to the revocation of a prior order, and thus, the instantiation of a political
regime (Bell 1992; Geertz 1973; Turner 1982).
Such a perspective clarifies why, at Wata, in order to inaugurate new, exclusive and
institutional spaces, valued objects were destroyed along with the preexisting spaces in which
they were once used. In the prior chapter, I demonstrated how changes in the spatiality of key
institutional practices corresponded to changes in how political authority was reckoned and
recognized from the OP to the Inka period. That is, throughout the OP, political authority was
largely defined through ordinal distinctions and accumulation disparities in amounts of certain
items (e.g. decorated serving vessels, mortuary complexes) and kinds of practices (e.g. feasting
and ancestor propitiation) underwrote status differences between people at separate sites. I then
argued that, throughout the Inka period, material differences evened out, or such differences
were not as sharply defined as they were in the previous order. In the Inka period, places
themselves connoted authority. Nominal distinctions replaced ordinal ones. Differences in kind
replaced differences in degree. The authority of a new regional class was rooted in claims of
absolute difference, which were rooted in absolute, exclusive spaces.
These sequences of destructive practices were also the means by which these local people
must have recognized and finalized their own subjection to Inka rule. In this reconstruction
process, the essential social categories upon which Inka authority rested were made manifest
they became objectified realities through the labor of these local people, in this local place.
Since Wata was a pre-Inka place of such entrenched meaning, the local peoples participation in
its transformation would have been a powerful and emotive way to perform and thus concretize
their new role as Inka subjects. These were not random acts of transfer and subjugation that
could have been performed at any site. They had to be done by these people and in this place. In
295

such situated processes of conversion, local places were made into Inka spaces, while local
people were made into the abstract subjects that labored for the state.

296

CHAPTER SIX
AUTHORITY IN TRANSITION: SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS

A State Narrative
Throughout the dramatic process of Spanish conquest, Inka narratives projected a
particular vision of both their empire and its predecessors. This vision cast the Inkas as the
cultivators and caretakers of a previously chaotic world. Lacking a written history, Inka notions
of order and authority were often propagated through stories about the state of chaos that
predated Inka rule, and the erasure of this disorder as the world was transformed according to
Inka ideals. Inka narratives particularly emphasized the conversion of local people into members
of an Inka family, a socio-spatial hierarchy bound together by naturalized links between people
and place.
These narratives cast the Inkas in a paternal role. They often assert that the power and
identity of local people and places emanated from the hands of Inka heroes and gods. Indeed,
some stories explain how, within mythic and ancestral times, gods walked the earth and planted
the seeds of specific social groups within special places (see Urton 1999: 36). Others describe
how the original mythic Inka rulers, akin to the gods, demanded that an association between
people and place be made among their subjects (e.g. Santacruz Pachacuti Yamqui 1968[1613]:
286-287). Both kinds of stories attribute a mythic origin to links between people and place. In so
doing, these stories assert that the advent of Inka power was expressed through the reordering of
local politically charged places, and that Inka authority was natural inasmuch as it was rooted in
the primordial moment during which Inkas first ordered the Andean world.

297

This thesis has uncovered the dynamic history that underlies these Inka claims to natural
authority. It investigated how an Inka authoritative structure was literally built upon the remnants
of preexisting places, and constructed through the subtle manipulation of pre-Inka political
practices. Archaeological accounts of state formation often concentrate on regional political
economy, thus treating local places and cultural spaces as if they are the passive, inert backdrops
against which generalized political ideologies and practices are staged (e.g. Algaze 1993; Marcus
and Flannery 1996; Spencer 1990, 1998). That is, the objects that circulate through places, and
the discourses that circulate about them, are understood to invest places with social authority.
Places are thus viewed as sources of social power and/or memory (e.g. Alcock 2002).
But too often overlooked are the ways in which places themselves, and the very acts that
build and transform places, may constitute authority. Herein, I have argued that the political
construction of authority occurs through and not over place that is, places play an agentive
role. I have presented recent archaeological data from the sacred center of the Inka Empire
(Cusco, Per) to demonstrate how the Inkas assembled their political authority by sharply
restricting and regulating significant social practices at already recognized political places.
Furthermore, I have examined the destructive practices through which a significant pre-Inka site
(Wata) was ceremonially put to death, then resurrected, in a process of conversion that was
crucial to the production of the nascent Inka polity and its attendant ideology of exclusivity. By
examining the conversion of such places, I have looked beyond the hyberbolic chest-pounding of
essentialized elite narratives, focusing instead on the dynamic and situated practices and
processes through which local people were incorporated into the Inka polity.
I have presented data from an intensive, multi-scalar archaeological project that I
designed and directed (Wata Archaeological Project [WAP] 2005-2007) to argue that both Inka
298

authority and the Inka incorporation of others were predicated upon the transformation of
preexisting places of pre-Inka authority. I have demonstrated how, throughout the Cusco region,
the Inkas produced an appearance of geographical coherence and temporal continuity by
directing dramatic changes within select, long-recognized founts of political power. Thus, Inka
authority was not simply derived from enduring autochthonous traditions or an administrative
structure, as a host of Andean scholars have long argued (e.g. Gose 1990; MacCormack 1991;
Ramrez 2005; Zuidema 1990). Rather, authority was constituted throughout a situated and
dramatically enacted process of conversion and articulation.
Political change occurs within intimate local spaces as well as in the extensive boulevards
and spacious plazas of capital cities. By investigating the processes through which local
populations were first incorporated into the Inka state, I have shown how local people perceived
and participated in the birth of this polity. More generally, to examine these processes is to
inquire into the constitution of authority. Political authority is not produced within a states
managerial apparatus, nor does it simply emanate from general cultural tradition. Rather, it is
constituted in situated practices and places. It is in these situated practices and places that state
authority is often objectified and naturalized. Moreover, it is in these situated practices that
people recognize, reify, or resist claims to naturalized state authority.

From Narrativization to Naturalization: Pre-Inka Locality and Inka Regionalism

To reveal the processes through which the Inkas transformed pre-Inka societies of the
Ollantaytambo area (Cusco), it was first necessary to shed light on the period of darkness and
disorder that is often assumed to precede Inka ascendancy. Numerous historians and
archaeologists have long characterized the pre-Inka centuries as a monolithic Dark Ages ridden
299

by incessant internecine conflict (Chapter Three). But in relegating social and political
significance only to periods of state-driven regional integration, such accounts inadvertently
work to silence the voices, stamp down the agency, and devalue the innovations of the myriad
people that both lived and produced history prior to the formation of regional states. 1 In contrast,
attending to links between the local and regional scales of social relations helps us avoid the
pitfalls of a conceptually vacant rise and fall or Dark Ages model of political development--a
model which itself eerily mimics the claims of ancient elites. Through an examination of the
political practices that constituted local pre-Inka organization in the Cusco area, we can better
understand how local people contributed to the practices and values that undergirded the Inka
state project.
The WAP archaeological survey found that the pre-Inka (Ollanta Phase [OP] ca. 1000
1300 C.E.) social groups of the Ollantaytambo area built discrete clusters of settlement. These
settlement clusters were established through strategies of localization, a form of landscape
production assembled through the coordination of socioeconomic practices as well as the staging
of collective consumption activities within distinct towns. Localized agro-pastoral organization,
distinct tomb architectural styles, and diverse pottery production techniques differentiated the
settlement clusters. There were differences between sites within each settlement cluster, thereby
suggesting that ordinal distinctions disparities in amounts of certain items (e.g. decorated
serving vessels, mortuary complexes) and kinds of practices (e.g. feasting and ancestor
propitiation) underwrote status differences between people at separate sites.

Recently, Arkush (2005) has made a similar claim about the pre-Inka centuries in the Lake Titicaca basin,
arguing that we need to better understand the practices and places of warfare. Here, I add to Arkushs (2005)
account by examining the kinds of spatial and political organization that may have coincided with social conflict
and/or interaction throughout these centuries. That is warfare or raiding may have occurred among these OP groups,
but in order to understand warfare, at any scale, we must understand how daily life was organized.

300

Indeed, throughout the Ollanta Phase, social and ceremonial activity was linked to town
life. Within each settlement cluster, politically charged ceremonial practices such as collective
feasting and ancestor veneration were staged only within select towns. These towns were distinct
from other sites in their practical repertoires, but also they were complementary parts of
socioeconomic communities communities assembled by localized agro-pastoral and
ceremonial practices. Tomb complexes were often discrete sectors of the towns, situated within
and near residential sectors. The association of such tomb complexes with the residential sectors
of towns strongly suggests that traditions of fting the dead were practices that contributed to the
constitution and emplacement of a highly localized sense of social identity. In other words, the
interrelation of spaces of death and life, or ancestral past and contemporary everyday household
practice, emplaced group identity within OP towns by establishing such settlements as traditional
ancestral places that were claimed to be representative of localized authority.
Far from a chaotic world or Dark Age, there was a regional order among these preInka societies. This order rested precisely in its emphasis on locality and heterogeneity among
places. During these pre-Inka centuries, it appears as though political authority was established
through an array of practices that ensured local socioeconomic self-sufficiency while staking
claims to local autonomy. 2 Localization was thus an active political strategy that was constituted
through these situated practices.

Peter Taylor (1995) makes a similar argument in describing the semiotic frame of common practices that is
established among contemporary nation-states. He addresses how states recognize and guarantee the existence of
other states through a mutuality of external sovereignty (Taylor 1995: 6)a kind of mutual recognition that
obviates the threat and absurdity of continual conflict. Moreover, scholars of medieval Europe have made similar
claims about the construction and elaboration of castlesthat is, they have argued that the defensive walls of castles
were more a sign of elite prestige and a symbol of local autonomy, than reflections of military prowess (e.g. Johnson
2002).

301

Moreover, political authority was culturally constituted in similar ways within the
separate settlement clusters. That is, ceremonial practices within towns were remarkably similar
across the survey zone. More specifically, the cultural constitution of authority played upon an
intimate relationship between specific places, ancestors, and communal food consumption. For
example, towns within the survey area are associated with mortuary complexes containing
multiple individual, aboveground tomb structures, each with a single entrance. Open plaza areas
within each mortuary complex are clearly visible from the plaza spaces of each political center.
My systematic surface collection data demonstrate that high densities of OP decorated serving
vessels were located within the plaza spaces of both the mortuary complexes and towns. I
interpret these data, as well as the tight clusters of OP settlement, as evidence for how OP
political authority was intimately linked to spatial practices that embedded, reified, and
reproduced affective ties between people and places. The spatial organization of mortuary sites,
their location within towns, and the specific commonalities in practices contained within these
sites strongly suggests that these settlements and mortuary complexes were organized as
complementary bounded spaces of the living and deada duality that perhaps was perceived as
essential to local sociopolitical production and reproduction, and which functioned, in itself, as a
claim to authority. In other words, although separate claims of localized sovereignty were being
made across the region, they were being made in the same ways.
Throughout the Ollanta Phase, then, ancestor veneration rites were situated practices that
staked claims to local places and local autonomy. That is, localization was an active political
strategy supported by a specific array of ceremonial mortuary practices. Yet these practices also
inadvertently fostered a kind of regionalisma trans-local consciousness of connectivity and
culturally recognized political practices. Practices in various places were staged in similar ways
302

so as to make one groups claim to autonomy recognizable to others. It was not incessant
conflict, then, but the struggle among various groups for the recognition of their local claims that
engendered regional sociopolitical interaction in the Cusco area. From a plurality of localized
political claims, a common political idiom was born.
Throughout the fourteenth century, dramatic changes occurred as the Ollantaytambo area
was incorporated into the nascent Inka polity. First, continuous occupation suggests that the
Ollantaytambo area was incorporated, not forcibly subjugated or conquered. Second, the survey
and architectural data strongly suggest that not only the continuous occupation, but also the
aesthetic elaboration of particular places were important to the instantiation of a new kind of
regional governance throughout the area.
Despite later Inka claims that they razed preexisting places, immense Inka buildings and
plaza spaces were constructed within significant OP sites of political practice. The construction
of such Inka buildings signaled a dramatic transformation in the spaces in which political work
was accomplished. However, it also entailed the maintenance and conversion of many
antecedent pre-Inka places that had been, and remained, seats of authority. Such sites continued
to frame feasting events theatrical ceremonies and performances of reciprocity through which
local labor was mobilized and local authority was reiterated. Largely, then, Inka political spaces
were developed from already recognized sites of political practice. Indeed, the inauguration of an
Inka governmental structure depended precisely on an appearance of continuity within
preexisting places of local traditional authority.
At converted places of local authority, political practices like feasting were largely
formalized and relegated to exclusive Inka spaces. The delimitation of sharply defined spaces for
political action produced an ordered and legible landscape. Even as Inka institutional spaces
303

were largely implanted within the confines of established villages and towns, the state
established a more formal and regulated version of the preexisting, local way of life. Regularity
thus became regulation. Put simply, feasting practices could no longer be associated with any
space, household or otherwise, save explicitly Inka space. Such regulation constrained the
possibility for local political action.
The monumental architecture produced during this transformation was not simply an
expression of state pomposity. Rather, it manifested the demarcation and emplacement of social
differences in space. Specific sites were restructured during the Inka period to make exclusive
and fortified ceremonial and monumental places. Massive walls were constructed around
sections of OP towns like Pumamarka and Wata, thus defining them as the sites where a certain
exclusive kind of political practice was done. The imposing buildings, large-scale feasting
practices, and directed paths of the intramural precinct at Wata sharply controlled movement,
enforced a specific kind of bodily disposition, and limited ceremonial practice to formal spaces.
As in many monumental and religious sites, the grandiosity of the architecture and the forced
direction of movement worked to dwarf social actors and produce an awareness of their
diminutive social position relative to a higher power. The formal disposition required by these
spaces interpellated people as subjects, requiring their adherence to a set of regulations and
recognizable claims to authority that were encoded in the architecture and staged practices of the
site itself. In fact, these Inka subjects were born in the labor process through which these Inka
structures were raised.
Inka governmental control was thus established through the formalization of space and
practices. Throughout the Ollantaytambo area, the Inkas undertook a selective transformation of
the lands that they incorporated, confining their efforts to particular sites of pre-existing local
304

significance such as seats of political power. The selection of only specific sites suggests that
both the Inkas and local people invested only certain places with political significance. The data
reveal how, rather than destroying preexisting places, the Inkas sought to cultivate and convert
them, thereby putting these significant places and local people in their correct place within an
imagined universal hierarchy of people, places, and things. In this process, absolute and formal
distinctions between an inside and outside, exclusive and residential space were
produced.
This was not just the instantiation of administrative hierarchy, but the production of
absolutely different kinds of spacesand the emplacement of a formal and nominal rather than
an ordinal difference between places, their functions, and their inhabitants. In more concrete
terms, the massive perimeter walls that fortified sites like Wata and Pumamarka manifested
their conversion into emblems of Inka authority. That is, the walls represented the claims of
absolute exclusivity and social difference that undergirded an Inka ideal of rulership and
authority. As intimidating fortifications, they also intimated that such claims could neither be
questioned nor challengedthey rendered these claims inviolable and natural. The production of
sites like Wata therefore was intimately linked to the production of a new claim to Inka
authority, which itself rested on a notion of nominal distinction underwritten by spaces of
absolute exclusivity.
By reflecting on these data, we can redraw the trajectory of the Inka polity in the Cusco
area. It appears as though Inka state formation was less a process of coercion than a process of
conversionone that redefined Cusco-region people and places according to new social
distinctions. Radiocarbon dates from this project indicate that, within the early fourteenth
century, dramatic architectural and institutional changes were implemented at Wata and
305

Markaqocha. Such changes are consistent with similar architectural transformations that have
been recorded at Cusco region sites, like Pukara Pantillillja (Covey 2006a) and Chokepukio
(McEwan et al. 2002) (Chapter Four) (Appendix A). However, these architectural
transformations occurred over a century before the construction of imperial Inka estates like
Ollantaytambo and Machu Picchu, suggesting that these later monumental installations were a
reflection of a different kind of Inka claim to authority, one linked to imperial expansion and
framed by confrontation with other Andean people. In sum, the macro-scale data reveal that in
the early Inka period (ca. 1300 - 1400 C.E.), the initial process of political consolidation in the
Cusco region was predicated upon the selective transformation and formalization of local places
and practices that worked to recast them within a formal, and explicitly Inka, regional
framework. This process provided for the creation of an appearance of an Inka trans-local Cuscoarea political community while preserving local control within local places.
More generally, this case illustrates how the state is an ongoing project in which the
rhetoric of integration masks a process of social differentiation. The state, then, is but a claim to
regional authority that is clothed in claims to shared history and territory. Appearances of
temporal continuity and spatial coherence may be essential to a state ideology, but a state cannot
be reduced to a political territory or bureaucratic apparatus. In this vein, notions of a state
heartland or a unified history are merely the claims and fantasies that buttress the power of
state elites (see also Rose 1996). And, such claims are made even as sharp social distinctions are
put into place. By implication, the regionalization and categorization of claims to social
difference and exclusivity comprise a process of state formation (see also Arextaga 2003). Such
claims are regionalized through the production of landscapea legible topography of conceptual
binaries like state/society, ceremonial/domestic, and public/private (for contemporary examples,
306

see Alonso 2004; Harvey 1989; for ancient examples, see Smith 2003). These boundaries are
produced by making and marking places of exclusion and inclusion. As we have seen here, such
places serve to differentiate subjects of the state. In fact, I argue that in the actual material
process of making and/or tearing down such places, people both perform their roles as political
subjects and objectify political authority.

Producing State Subjects

Local people experienced and perceived the production of the Inka polity in the situated
practices that converted important pre-Inka places like Wata. Through these practices of
conversion, they not only built the emblematic structures of the state, but also performed their
subordination to Inka authority.
Prior to the Inka period, Wata was one of many similar sites that constituted a pre-Inka
interaction sphere in the Cusco area a web of socially and culturally interconnected yet
politically localized settlement clusters. Our suite of radiocarbon assays indicates that Wata was
a pre-Inka town and ceremonial site that was first occupied 2000 years prior to its Inka-era
conversion . The WAP excavation data indicate that Wata was incorporated in the early stages
(~1350 C.E.) of Inka state formation, at which time the central, continually inhabited area of the
site was recast as an exclusive space for public ceremonies. 3
In the process of Watas transformation into a monumental Inka space, pre-Inka storage
facilities were ritually filled and covered, while new storage and redistribution areas were built.
An extensive plaza was constructed over a long-occupied residential area. An immense wall was
3

At Wata, the process of site reconstruction coincides with a series of changes in spatial practices and
material culture style. For instance, the location of feasting and mortuary practices changed throughout this process.
A suite of recently derived radiocarbon dates places this process of transformation in the mid-fourteenth century
(Chapter Five).

307

constructed. This wall encircled the internal ceremonial area of the site, thereby demarcating a
space that was conspicuous in its exclusivity. Simultaneously, domestic activities were moved to
an area outside of the walled precinct.
A look into the foundations of these Inka buildings reveals the process through which
Wata was converted and state authority was built. Specifically, practices of demolition,
decommissioning, and commemoration were essential to the production of the plaza, two niched
buildings, and a storage area. In each of these contexts, brief and intense fires were lit within preInka structures. Subsequently, decorated serving vessels were often smashed above the space of
the fires. The destroyed pottery often constituted the majority of the fill that covered the pre-Inka
spaces. Controlled fires were then lit above the fill. Decorated serving vessels and select animal
remains were deposited within the ash, suggesting that a feasting event corresponded to the final
interment of the pre-Inka structures. Afterward, Inka buildings were assembled. Such a sequence
was evident only within only a few of our excavation contexts at Wata, indicating that the town
was not completely demolished or burnt. Only select, perhaps socially significant areas of the
site were destroyed and reconstructed.
Although it is uncertain who directed the restructuring of Wata, it is highly probable that
local people performed this labor. The excavations reveal the ritualized destructive practices that
built distinct ceremonial and domestic spaces. In these practices, local people who rebuilt Wata
produced boundaries between their new houses and a long-revered place. Simultaneously, within
their houses, local people produced boundaries between the pre-Inka past and an Inka present.
These conclusions shed new light on the intimate relationship between subjectivization
and political authority. In the labor process at Wata, local people were recast as Inka subjects
inasmuch as they performed their new roles within the nascent Inka state. In this situated process
308

of conversion, local people created the social boundaries that defined the political authority to
which they now were subject. Within the labor process itself, the coordination of these laborers
activities must have engendered a heightened self-consciousness of their social roles (as laborers)
within the local context, and by implication, produced recognition of their lower relative position
within a broader social hierarchy (see Bell 1997; Bloch 1989). That is, in contrast to the
industrial workers of Marxian accounts, the laborers in Wata most likely would have been
acutely aware of their participation in their own subordination and subjectification. The
performance that prompted this recognition thereby was the vehicle through which local people
inaugurated the new Inka order, and realized and reified their own positions as political subjects
(DeBord 1994; Smith 2004, 2006).
At Wata, an Inka subject was born in these practices, in this situated process. In the very
act of laboring for the stateas they ritually remade their place as a state place, and ritually
reconstructed their homes as the essential spaces of an Inka heartlandlocal people incorporated
themselves as state subjects. Moreover, these people were incorporated as state subjects when
they ritually made their history to be the same as state history. They negated their own political
autonomy and recast themselves as Inka subjects. Wata became Inka. And in enacting its
transformation, local people became Inka subjects.

Emplacing Authority
Political regimes often seek to constitute their authority by defining cultural tradition.
Throughout processes of social transformation and crisis, political actors typically invoke the
sanctity of tradition to cultivate an appearance of coherence and continuity amidst dramatic
historical change. As demonstrated by contemporary political rhetoric within the United States,
309

such political claims often declare the necessity of inviolable links between local places and the
state, thereby attempting to cultivate affective ties between home and heartland, people and
polity. Political authority, in such instances, is claimed to be moored in the hallowed ground of
tradition.
Inka claims to political authority were specifically staked within pre-Inka ancestral
places. Throughout Inka polity formation select localities were transformed into exclusive Inka
spaces, implying a process of articulation during which pre-Inka places became Inka. The
process of conversion through which people created Inka spaces was a monumental series of
actions that dynamically entrenched the vision and reality of absolute exclusivity that
undergirded regional state authority. Inka political consolidation did not entail the forcible
molding of a series of isolated parts (i.e. OP settlements) into a homogenous whole. Rather,
the strategic transformation of select sites of political practice produced an emergent, generalized
idiom of political authority that effectively consolidated the region. In the places of social
transformation and practices of conversion, Inka authority was declared and recognized.
From this perspective, the Inka state only appears to be rooted in Andean traditionthis
is, after all, the mythos of many states. On one hand, an image of Inka order was created through
the telling and retelling of a cosmological contest between us and them that narrativized how
the Inkas gained and consolidated power through the conquest and conversion of other powerful
people and places. On the other hand, Inka order was reified and realized in specific places
through the histrionic destruction and reconstruction of long-recognized seats of power. The
Inkas drew upon long recognized cultural precepts of authority, like feasting practices in
powerful places. But by dramatically transforming specific places, they manipulated the meaning
of these cultural precepts in order to support an ideology of absolute exclusivity and difference.
310

The authority of the Inkas thus was rooted in a process of articulation and transition that was: (1)
conceptualized as a process through which order was brought to an untamed world, and (2)
concretized and objectified through the explicit transformation of places.
This study demonstrates how places and practices are essential to the constitution of
political authority. In this example, authority is constituted in situated practices within specific
places. By restructuring particular places, the Inkas manifested and objectified the absolute
boundaries between past and present, non-Inka and Inka that underwrote their claims to absolute
authority. And by tearing down and rebuilding Wata, local people negated their own political
autonomy and recast themselves as Inka subjects. As Wata became Inka, a new social and
political order was, quite literally, put in place.

311

APPENDIX A: RADIOCARBON DATES

SITE

LAB no.

Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Kachiqhata
Kachiqhata
Kachiqhata
Kachiqhata
Llactallactayoq
Pumamarka
Pumamarka
Pumamarka
Pumamarka
Pumamarka
Pumamarka
Markaqocha
Markaqocha
Intihuatana
Ollantaytambo
Ollantaytambo
Ollantaytambo
Ollantaytambo
Ollantaytambo
Ollantaytambo
Ollantaytambo

AA82091
AA85885
AA82089
AA82090
AA82717
AA82093
AA85886
AA47679
A47680
AA82716
AA82719
AA85881
AA85882
Ua1709
SI6990
Ua1710
AA2218
Q3090
SI6986
SI6987
SI6988A
SI6988B
AA5058
AA5352
AA82720
AA82721
SI6989
AA2215
SI6991A
AA2217
SI6991B
AA1528
AA1530
BM931

Associated
Materials
OP
OP
OP/Inka
OP/Inka
OP/ Inka
OP/ Inka
Inka
--Inka
Inka
Inka/ Col
Inka/ Col
Inka
None
Inka
None
LIP
None
None
None
None
None
None
Inka
Inka
None
Inka
None
None
None
None
None
None

Source
WAP
WAP
WAP
WAP
WAP
WAP
WAP
Covey 2006*
Covey 2006*
WAP
WAP
WAP
WAP
Bengtsson 1998
Hollowell 1987
Bengsston 1998
Bengsston 1998
Kendall 1996
Hollowell 1987
Hollowell 1987
Hollowell 1987
Hollowell 1987
Kendall 1996
Kendall 1996
WAP
WAP
Hollowell 1987
Bengsston 1998
Hollowell 1987
Bengsston 1998
Hollowell 1987
Bengsston 1998
Bengsston 1998
Kendall 1985

Calibrated Date
(68.2%) C.E.
1229-1285
1230-1299
1291-1386
1305-1391
1311-1395
1314-1399
1391-1446
1401-1440
1406-1438
1425-1455
1436-1489
1495-1625
1521-1646
1260-1390
1295-1395
1330-1480
1415-1480
1030-1190
1020-1160
1250-1390
1280-1390
1295-1395
1405-1470
1440-1630
1278-1387
1421-1451
1330-1450
1320-1440
1330-1620
1430-1630
1430-1640
1480-1650
1490-1650
1510-1660

Table A.1: Published Radiocarbon Dates from the Ollantaytambo Area.

312

1900
1800
1700
1600
1500
1400
1300
1200
1100
1000

Figure A.1: Published Radiocarbon Dates from the Ollantaytambo Area. The probable time period of Inka state
formation is highlighted.

313

SITE

LAB no.

Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Wata
Kachiqhata
Kachiqhata
Kachiqhata
Kachiqhata
Pumamarka
Pumamarka
Pumamarka
Pumamarka
Pumamarka
Markaqocha
Markaqocha
Ankasmarka
Ankasmarka
Pukara P
Pukara P
Pukara P
Pukara P
Pukara P
Pukara P
Pukara P
Chokepukio
Chokepukio

AA82089
AA82090
AA82717
AA82093
AA85886
AA47679
A47680
AA82716
AA82719
AA85881
AA85882
Ua1709
SI6990
Ua1710
AA2218
SI6987
SI6988A
SI6988B
AA5058
AA5352
AA82720
AA82721
UCLA 1676M
BM 930

Associated
Materials
OP/Inka
OP/Inka
OP/ Inka
OP/ Inka
Inka
--Inka
Inka
Inka/ Col
Inka/ Col
Inka
None
Inka
None
None
None
None
None
None
Inka
Inka
Killke
Inka

BM 924

None

Source
WAP
WAP
WAP
WAP
WAP
Covey 2006*
Covey 2006*
WAP
WAP
WAP
WAP
Bengtsson 1998
Hollowell 1987
Bengsston 1998
Bengsston 1998
Hollowell 1987
Hollowell 1987
Hollowell 1987
Kendall 1996
Kendall 1996
WAP
WAP
Kendall 1985
Kendall 1985
Covey 2006
Covey 2006
Covey 2006
Covey 2006
Covey 2006
Covey 2006
Covey 2006
Kendall 1985
McEwan 2001

Calibrated Date
(68.2%) C.E.
1291-1386
1305-1391
1311-1395
1314-1399
1391-1446
1401-1440
1406-1438
1425-1455
1436-1489
1495-1625
1521-1646
1260-1390
1295-1395
1330-1480
1415-1480
1250-1390
1280-1390
1295-1395
1405-1470
1440-1630
1278-1387
1421-1451
1280-1400
1320-1520
1280-1400
1300-1400
1300-1420
1300-1440
1300-1480
1410-1500
1440-1640
1260-1390
860-1410

Table A.2: Relevant Published Radiocarbon Dates from the Cusco Region.

314

1700

1600

1500

1400

1300

1200

1100

Figure A.2: Relevant Published Radiocarbon Dates from the Cusco Region. The probable time period of Inka
state formation is highlighted.

315

APPENDIX B: SURVEY DATA

Table B.1: Formative Sites

NUMBER
W-003
W-004
W-015
W-016
W-021
W-023
W-025
W-026
W-027
W-032
W-033
W-034
W-041
W-042
W-051
W-062
W-064
W-06501
W-06502
W-068
W-071
W-073
W-074
W-076
W-080
W-082
W-094
W-099
W-11301
W-136
W-144
W-156
W-159
W-168
W-174

ELEVATION
3577
3552
3487
3553
3433
3486
3991
3698
3434
3685
3765
3443
3886
3446
4155
3785
3676
3761
3898
3793
3968
3871
3689
3870
3478
3679
3917
2848
3025
3611
3410
3156
3221
3402
3052

X
802557
800369
800839
800293
800480
800196
797928
797724
800584
798205
797889
798576
797765
798216
797614
796772
796292
796153
796320
796284
793854
793465
794884
796981
796991
796271
794490
799606
794739
792970
791956
800212
801463
802552
804143

Y
8517940
8517896
8518882
8517576
8519136
8519842
8520004
8518178
8518126
8520818
8520758
8520952
8522641
8523902
8524582
8525900
8526032
8527780
8527962
8527702
8521672
8523066
8523716
8522482
8523170
8523028
8522294
8531648
8532362
8531290
8532556
8534425
8535462
8537038
8531522

316

ESTIMATED
AREA
2.00
0.56
0.64
0.70
0.75
0.25
0.40
0.15
1.50
0.64
0.20
1.00
7.00
1.80
0.96
0.09
0.25
0.48
0.02
1.00
0.12
0.12
0.25
0.08
0.96
0.25
0.30
0.70
1.30
3.00
6.48
0.96
0.25
1.50
0.12

SHERD
COUNT
34
8
2
4
3
5
15
1
8
14
1
1
46
2
35
3
1
4
1
8
1
8
5
7
1
1
1
1
1
6
8
2
1
16
1

NUMBER
W-175
W-176
W-181
W-182
W-186
W-213
W-222
W-223

ELEVATION
3041
2969
3190
3516
3144
3733
3524
3543

X
803957
803301
791831
796422
806148
803183
806365
806003

Y
8531150
8530054
8537362
8518294
8531717
8539021
8533308
8533163

ESTIMATED
AREA
1.00
3.00
0.25
1.00
0.80
0.24
0.30
0.90

SHERD COUNT Number of sherds recovered from the site.

317

SHERD
COUNT
5
43
1
1
9
3
12
18

Table B.2: Middle Horizon/Qotakalle Sites

NUMBER
W-00301
W-00302
W-00303
W-00304
W-004
W-016
W-021
W-023
W-027
W-041
W-042
W-047
W-052
W-053
W-054
W-058
W-070
W-072
W-080
W-081
W-110
W-135
W-137
W-143
W-146
W-144
W-151
W-168
W-175
W-176

ELEVATION
3475
3459
3374
3577
3552
3553
3433
3486
3434
3886
3446
3268
3377
3278
3406
3308
3821
4004
3478
3466
2992
3071
2986
2982
3432
3409
2844
3402
3041
2969

X
802892
802604
802135
802557
800369
800293
800480
800196
800584
797765
798216
800314
800759
797995
797614
797596
794511
792699
796991
796653
795027
793333
793438
792737
792396
791736
793198
802552
803957
803301

Y
8517546
8517564
8517300
8517940
8517896
8517576
8519136
8519842
8518126
8522641
8523902
8524534
8518530
8526816
8526966
8526796
8523514
8522780
8523170
8523188
8532142
8532446
8532746
8533212
8532330
8532946
8533164
8537038
8531150
8530054

ESTIMATED
AREA
HM/QOTA
0.56
3
2.40
43
0.16
4
4.00
56
0.70
6
0.56
4
0.75
8
0.25
5
1.50
11
6.00
7
1.80
9
1.00
1
1.00
5
0.96
14
0.16
8
0.30
3
0.25
1
0.56
1
0.96
2
0.60
29
4.00
1
3.00
2
3.40
4
2.25
1
7.00
11
5.00
1
0.16
1
1.50
13
1.00
1
4.00
2

318

ARAWAY
0
5
0
4
9
10
0
0
2
9
1
0
0
1
1
0
0
0
0
3
0
0
0
0
7
0
0
8
0
9

WARI
0
0
0
4
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

Table B.3: Ollanta Phase Sites

NUMBER
W-001
W-004
W-005
W-015
W-021
W-022
W-023
W-027
W-029
W-030
W-032
W-035
W-036
W-037
W-038
W-039
W-040
W-041
W-042
W-043
W-044
W-047
W-052
W-053
W-054
W-055
W-057
W-058
W-062
W-067
W-069
W-070
W-071
W-072
W-080
W-081
W-082

X
802568
800369
797907
800839
800480
799711
800196
800584
798259
798701
798205
798341
798799
798976
799706
799146
798869
797765
798216
798783
799223
800314
800759
797995
797614
797742
798346
797596
796772
796497
793879
794511
793854
792699
796991
796653
796271

Y
8517922
8517896
8516984
8518882
8519136
8521042
8519842
8518126
8517768
8520340
8520818
8521904
8522832
8523044
8524080
8523838
8523656
8522641
8523902
8526084
8524594
8524534
8518530
8526816
8526966
8527264
8526746
8526796
8525900
8528432
8520922
8523514
8521672
8522780
8523170
8523188
8523028

ELEV
3577
3552
3475
3487
3433
3524
3486
3434
4020
3526
3685
3376
3527
3542
3220
3165
3218
3886
3446
3497
3429
3268
3377
3278
3406
3466
3216
3308
3785
3993
4249
3821
3968
4004
3478
3466
3679

ESTIMATED
AREA
0.60
0.56
0.56
0.64
0.75
0.25
0.25
1.50
0.24
0.40
0.64
0.15
0.80
0.12
0.40
0.24
0.08
14.00
1.80
3.00
1.20
0.50
1.00
0.96
0.16
0.09
0.09
0.30
0.09
0.60
1.80
0.25
0.12
0.56
0.96
0.60
0.25

319

Site Class
Artifact Scatter
Dispersed res
Agricultural Com
Dispersed res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Dispersed res
Dispersed res
Agricultural Com
Other
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Other
Other
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Agricultural Com
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Agricultural Com
Agricultural Com
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Station
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter

OP
12
46
32
9
11
5
7
47
6
11
7
6
6
12
13
6
7
53
14
68
32
12
18
24
5
6
8
15
6
6
6
8
9
8
24
21
16

OPSV
2
35
3
0
0
0
0
13
0
1
0
0
1
3
4
0
2
94
4
82
16
4
0
8
0
1
1
1
0
0
0
0
0
1
2
0
0

OPSVP
14
43
9
0
0
0
0
22
0
8
0
0
14
20
24
0
22
64
22
55
33
25
0
25
0
14
11
6
0
0
0
0
0
11
8
0
0

NUMBER
W-083
W-084
W-085
W-087
W-088
W-089
W-093
W-094
W-11301
W-11302
W-114
W-116
W-12001
W-12002
W-122
W-123
W-12401
W-12402
W-132
W-134
W-137
W-143
W-14401
W-14402
W-146
W-149
W-150
W-151
W-157
W-160
W-161
W-163
W-164
W-166
W-167
W-168
W-173
W-175

X
798841
798595
799393
798194
798390
798145
798336
794490
794739
794623
794087
798381
798496
798570
799610
799656
800309
800254
793337
793988
793438
792737
791956
791736
792396
792298
791835
793198
799773
800896
799709
802742
802715
798531
802401
802552
797962
803957

Y
8527346
8527546
8526868
8526234
8526234
8526059
8527424
8522294
8532362
8532162
8532162
8534126
8534812
8534852
8535436
8535560
8535644
8535050
8531966
8531580
8532746
8533212
8532556
8532946
8532330
8533662
8534130
8533164
8534235
8535678
8533262
8536692
8536452
8535390
8537159
8537038
8536966
8531150

ELEV
3399
3519
2998
3449
3376
3554
3483
3917
3025
3113
3165
3150
3460
3478
3580
3650
3424
3326
3193
3334
2986
2982
3410
3409
3432
3097
3463
2844
3114
3305
3798
3389
3453
3989
3501
3402
3892
3041

ESTIMATED
AREA
0.28
0.40
1.20
0.01
0.08
0.08
0.04
0.30
1.40
1.20
0.70
2.00
3.00
2.00
1.50
0.15
20.00
2.40
0.60
0.40
1.00
1.00
6.48
5.00
7.00
2.40
2.20
0.16
0.20
0.12
0.70
0.60
4.40
4.00
0.20
1.50
0.36
1.00

320

Site Class
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Offering place
Agricultural Com
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Dispersed res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Agricultural Com
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Dispersed res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Dispersed res
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Station
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Enclosure
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res

OP
14
19
6
8
26
13
14
7
26
14
19
12
12
8
47
8
12
59
10
7
16
26
84
21
49
72
46
8
18
7
9
8
39
6
27
61
24
37

OPSV
0
0
0
0
7
3
0
0
1
0
5
0
0
0
10
0
7
16
0
0
2
0
79
16
65
25
11
0
1
0
3
2
14
1
0
33
5
27

OPSVP
0
0
0
0
21
19
0
0
4
0
21
0
0
0
18
0
37
21
0
0
11
0
48
43
57
26
19
0
5
0
25
20
26
14
0
35
17
42

NUMBER
W-176
W-180
W-192
W-206
W-209
W-247
W-248

X
803301
791822
802834
802527
802821
803021
801537

Y
8530054
8537284
8515940
8516265
8515945
8530005
8536320

ELEV
2969
3190
2806
2827
3164
3803
3874

ESTIMATED
AREA
3.00
3.00
0.09
1.00
2.00
0.08
4.00

Site Class
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Dispersed res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter

OP
34
14
5
7
16
6
12

OPSV
62
4
0
0
4
0
12

OPSVP
65
22
0
0
20
0
50

OLLANTA SITE CODES:

OP Number of identifiable diagnostic Ollanta Phase non-serving vessel sherds recovered.
OPSVNumber identifiable diagnostic Ollanta Phase serving vessel sherds recovered.
OPSVP Percentage of serving vessel sherds relative to the identifiable sample (excluding
sherds for which form is not identifiable).
SITE CLASS:
STATION: A cluster of one-five buildings or corrals.
OFFERING PLACE: Often a circular platform, rock, or other natural feature associated
with artifacts.
DISPERSED RES: A dispersed residential site.
NUCLEATED RES: A nucleated residential site.
ENCLOSURE: A walled area.
AGRICULTURAL COM: An agricultural complex.

See Kosiba (2005) for a complete list of survey codes, as well as examples of survey forms.

321

Table B.4: Inka Period Sites

NUMBER
W-001
W-003
W-004
W-005
W-006
W-007
W-008
W-011
W-015
W-016
W-01801
W-01802
W-020
W-021
W-022
W-023
W-024
W-027
W-028
W-030
W-031
W-033
W-034
W-035
W-036
W-037
W-038
W-039
W-041
W-043
W-044
W-045
W-047
W-050
W-052
W-053
W-055

ELEV
3577
3582
3552
3475
3631
4019
4044
3509
3487
3553
3751
3902
3458
3433
3524
3486
3641
3434
3388
3526
3916
3765
3443
3376
3527
3542
3220
3165
3886
3497
3429
3367
3268
3213
3377
3278
3466

X
802568
802557
800369
797907
796624
796777
796241
802909
800839
800293
800383
800383
801809
800480
799711
800196
799876
800584
801789
798701
797844
797889
798576
798341
798799
798976
799706
799146
797765
798783
799223
799925
800314
799553
800759
797995
797742

EST
Y
AREA
8517922 0.40
8517940 1.00
8517896 0.56
8516984 0.40
8527025 8.00
8516724 0.40
8517076 0.96
8517798 0.20
8518882 0.64
8517576 0.70
8517302 1.95
8516940 1.80
8516852 0.12
8519136 0.75
8521042 0.25
8519842 0.80
8521296 2.50
8518126 1.50
8517196 0.50
8520340 2.20
8520252 0.25
8520758 0.40
8520952 1.00
8521904 0.15
8522832 1.50
8523044 2.00
8524080 1.50
8523838 0.40
8522641 27.00
8526084 9.00
8524594 2.50
8522492 1.96
8524534 1.00
8525582 0.80
8518530 1.20
8526816 0.96
8527264 0.60

SITE CLASS
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Dispersed res
Ag Com
Artifact Scatter
Station
Station
Ag Com
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Enclosure
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Dispersed res
Station
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Ag Com
Other
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Other
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Ag Com
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Ag Com

322

INKA INKSV
14
3
16
3
22
20
23
3
11
31
7
0
8
0
13
0
9
5
7
1
14
0
12
0
6
0
7
0
15
1
6
0
49
3
32
28
28
0
9
0
7
0
9
0
9
0
12
3
11
0
23
6
15
34
12
2
105
143
36
76
28
12
13
4
21
4
11
17
14
8
37
12
21
0

INKSVP
18
16
48
12
74
0
0
0
36
13
0
0
0
0
6
0
6
47
0
0
0
0
0
20
0
21
69
14
58
68
30
24
16
61
36
24
0

NICHED
FRML
No
No
Yes
No
Yes
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
Yes
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
Yes
Yes
No
No
No
No
Yes
No
No

NUMBER
W-056
W-057
W-059
W-060
W-061
W-063
W-064
W-06501
W-06502
W-071
W-072
W-073
W-074
W-077
W-078
W-079
W-080
W-081
W-082
W-083
W-085
W-088
W-089
W-090
W-091
W-092
W-094
W-096
W-097
W-105
W-108
W-11001
W-11002
W-11003
W-11301
W-114
W-115
W-117

ELEV
3189
3216
2930
2873
2860
3807
3676
3761
3898
3968
4004
3871
3689
4072
3874
3655
3478
3466
3679
3399
2998
3376
3554
3477
3455
3504
3917
4417
2886
2830
4028
2845
2992
2872
3025
3165
2916
2913

X
798543
798346
800131
801006
801490
796961
796292
796153
796320
793854
792699
793465
794884
797187
796501
796235
796991
796653
796271
798841
799393
798390
798145
799128
799466
798899
794490
793312
801452
797689
798220
795912
795027
795302
794739
794087
793660
796849

Y
8526842
8526746
8529220
8530684
8530642
8525630
8526032
8527780
8527962
8521672
8522780
8523066
8523716
8522242
8522014
8522274
8523170
8523188
8523028
8527346
8526868
8526234
8526059
8529118
8529148
8529066
8522294
8525824
8530296
8532584
8529656
8531994
8532142
8532138
8532362
8532162
8532536
8533578

EST
AREA
0.16
0.09
1.80
1.00
0.60
0.60
0.25
1.48
0.20
0.12
1.60
0.12
0.25
0.84
0.24
0.24
2.20
0.60
0.20
0.28
2.40
0.08
0.08
0.15
0.75
0.80
0.30
0.40
2.50
0.80
0.60
5.00
4.00
0.80
2.00
0.70
0.20
0.20

SITE CLASS
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Enclosure
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Ag Com
Artifact Scatter
Ag Com
Enclosure
Station
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Other
Other
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Ag Com
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Ag Com
Station
Dispersed res
Station
Nucleated res
Other
Artifact Scatter
Dispersed res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Ag Com

323

INKA INKSV
14
14
16
2
6
0
14
27
22
3
8
0
9
0
6
0
8
0
8
0
8
6
7
5
11
4
6
0
6
0
8
0
31
8
6
2
9
8
10
0
34
22
24
6
26
3
6
0
5
0
11
1
9
0
7
0
2
34
9
2
4
2
21
14
34
18
29
9
22
32
8
12
7
2
8
2

INKSVP
50
11
0
66
12
0
0
0
0
0
43
42
27
0
0
0
21
25
47
0
39
20
10
0
0
8
0
0
94
18
33
40
35
24
59
30
22
20

NICHED
FRML
No
No
Yes
Yes
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
Yes
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
Yes
No
No
No
Yes
No
Yes
Yes
No
Yes

NUMBER
W-119
W-12001
W-12002
W-122
W-123
W-12401
W-12402
W-126
W-128
W-129
W-130
W-131
W-132
W-134
W-135
W-136
W-137
W-138
W-139
W-140
W-141
W-143
W-14401
W-14402
W-146
W-149
W-150
W-151
W-152
W-153
W-155
W-156
W-157
W-158
W-159
W-160
W-161
W-162

ELEV
3082
3460
3478
3580
3650
3424
3326
3247
3095
3245
3057
3490
3193
3334
3071
3611
2986
3525
2909
2954
2976
2982
3410
3409
3432
3097
3463
2844
2887
2824
3751
3156
3114
3097
3221
3305
3798
4181

X
798424
798496
798570
799610
799656
800309
800254
800579
799849
799399
799051
793186
793337
793988
793333
792970
793438
792544
795149
795020
795311
792737
791956
792396
791736
792298
791835
793198
793074
793631
791398
800212
799773
799437
801463
800896
799709
801419

Y
8533982
8534812
8534852
8535436
8535560
8535644
8535050
8535204
8534292
8534540
8534286
8531460
8531966
8531580
8532446
8531290
8532746
8531828
8533620
8533824
8533592
8533212
8532556
8532330
8532946
8533662
8534130
8533164
8533094
8533046
8532089
8534425
8534235
8534143
8535462
8535678
8533262
8533372

EST
AREA
0.70
6.00
12.00
1.50
0.15
20.00
0.40
0.32
0.24
0.20
0.80
1.00
3.00
0.40
3.00
3.00
3.40
4.00
0.06
0.40
0.20
2.25
6.48
5.00
7.00
4.40
2.20
0.16
0.20
0.20
1.00
0.96
0.20
0.24
0.25
0.12
0.80
0.24

SITE CLASS
Ag Com
Ag Com
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Dispersed res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Ag Com
Artifact Scatter
Ag Com
Dispersed res
Dispersed res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Station
Nucleated res
Station

324

INKA INKSV
12
7
6
4
23
18
36
14
12
0
12
58
28
3
5
0
9
0
31
6
5
1
23
0
31
0
7
0
27
6
21
16
20
64
28
10
30
51
28
32
5
0
20
9
92
7
39
13
24
44
62
16
14
6
18
11
9
0
11
0
20
42
11
18
12
0
25
3
18
7
8
19
21
18
8
0

INKSVP
37
40
44
28
0
83
10
0
0
16
17
0
0
0
18
43
76
26
63
53
0
31
7
25
65
21
30
38
0
0
68
62
0
11
28
70
46
0

NICHED
FRML
No
Yes
Yes
No
No
Yes
Yes
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
Yes
No
Yes
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
Yes
Yes
No
No
No
No
Yes
No
No
No
No
No
No
No

NUMBER
W-163
W-164
W-165
W-166
W-167
W-168
W-169
W-171
W-173
W-174
W-175
W-180
W-181
W-182
W-183
W0184
W-185
W-187
W-189
W-190
W-191
W-193
W-194
W-195
W-196
W-19701
W-19702
W-198
W-199
W-201
W-202
W-203
W-204
W-205
W-207
W-210
W-211
W-212

ELEV
3389
3453
3676
3989
3501
3402
3879
3172
3892
3052
3041
3190
3190
3245
3302
3110
3288
4112
4101
3524
3679
2831
3875
3880
3721
3870
3651
3383
3449
3478
3377
3602
3216
3218
3648
3263
4086
3258

X
802742
802715
801974
798531
802401
802552
798492
794056
797962
804143
803957
791822
791831
791842
803061
802527
799619
793705
792330
803021
795156
797370
803030
800781
799869
800739
801226
800118
799831
798331
798449
798839
799474
798869
800258
800336
797255
798469

Y
8536692
8536452
8536817
8535390
8537159
8537038
8536036
8534254
8536966
8531522
8531150
8537284
8537362
8537312
8516893
8516265
8519282
8527943
8529853
8531418
8530826
8533575
8518746
8516560
8517982
8516482
8516796
8519586
8520148
8521166
8521326
8523104
8523942
8523656
8522010
8524020
8524578
8527076

EST
AREA
3.00
4.20
0.24
4.00
0.20
1.50
0.24
0.35
0.36
0.12
2.20
7.00
0.25
0.25
2.00
1.50
0.25
0.15
0.15
0.09
0.12
0.09
0.06
0.09
0.06
1.00
1.00
0.20
0.12
0.20
0.25
0.12
0.20
0.20
0.25
0.06
0.30
0.06

SITE CLASS
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Enclosure
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Ag Com
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Ag Com
Dispersed res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Ag Com
Ag Com
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Enclosure

325

INKA INKSV
16
76
87
71
9
0
8
2
8
12
23
10
8
0
22
9
11
3
26
32
48
117
9
4
58
6
11
0
19
12
11
0
8
0
6
0
14
0
9
1
23
2
8
0
9
0
5
0
6
0
7
0
7
0
5
0
9
0
18
2
11
0
7
0
5
0
9
0
12
1
8
0
5
0
5
0

INKSVP
83
45
0
20
60
30
0
29
21
55
71
31
9
0
39
0
0
0
0
10
8
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
10
0
0
0
0
8
0
0
0

NICHED
FRML
Yes
Yes
No
No
No
No
No
Yes
No
Yes
Yes
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No

NUMBER
W-213
W-214
W-215
W-216
W-217
W-218
W-219
W-221
W-222
W-223
W-224
W-226
W-227
W-229
W-230
W-231
W-232
W-233
W-234
W-235
W-237
W-238
W-240
W-241
W-242
W-243
W-244
W-245
W-246
W-249

ELEV
3993
4226
4417
4351
2921
3512
3713
3470
3124
3491
3879
3874
2813
2823
2846
2789
4208
3012
2923
2689
2732
3243
3794
2718
2844
3743
4324
2900
3321
3475

X
796497
793259
793312
793608
799767
797593
798019
791965
793023
791755
798492
801537
792887
792419
792887
791200
794949
789982
793295
792427
792698
791342
791451
791288
804629
803906
808100
799128
799466
801452

Y
8528432
8521276
8525824
8525960
8528130
8527344
8527760
8532414
8532724
8532559
8536036
8536320
8536159
8536253
8535597
8536815
8536722
8537097
8534239
8535649
8536897
8537439
8538903
8536734
8530850
8536562
8539888
8529118
8529148
8530296

EST
AREA
0.09
0.32
0.06
0.25
0.04
0.12
0.20
0.03
0.01
0.09
0.12
4.60
0.50
0.15
0.87
0.80
0.08
0.09
0.20
0.40
0.06
0.80
0.04
0.40
0.20
0.90
0.15
2.00
0.15
0.56

SITE CLASS
Enclosure
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Dispersed res
Dispersed res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Ag Com
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Ag Com
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Ag Com
Ag Com

326

INKA INKSV
6
0
8
0
6
0
6
0
6
0
8
0
6
0
16
2
6
0
6
0
8
1
14
2
12
8
8
0
7
0
9
0
7
0
8
0
12
14
5
1
8
2
9
1
8
2
6
0
28
11
9
0
9
2
18
39
8
1
23
3

INKSVP
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
11
0
0
0
33
40
0
0
0
0
0
54
17
20
10
20
0
28
0
18
68
11
12

NICHED
FRML
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
No
Yes
No
No

INKA PERIOD SITE CODES:

INKA Number of identifiable diagnostic Inka Period non-serving vessel sherds recovered.
INKSVNumber identifiable diagnostic Inka Period serving vessel sherds recovered.
INKSVP Percentage of Inka serving vessel sherds relative to the identifiable sample (excluding
sherds for which form is not identifiable).

SITE CLASS:
STATION: A cluster of one-five buildings or corrals.
OFFERING PLACE: Often a circular platform, rock, or other natural feature associated
with artifacts.
DISPERSED RES: A dispersed residential site.
NUCLEATED RES: A nucleated residential site.
ENCLOSURE: A walled area.
AGRICULTURAL COM: An agricultural complex.

NICHED/FRML: Presence of Inka formal architecture like Niched buildings.

See Kosiba (2005) for a complete list of survey codes, as well as examples of survey forms.

327

Table B.5: Site Names

NUMBER
W-001
W-003
W-00301
W-00302
W-00303
W-00304
W-004
W-005
W-006
W-007
W-008
W-011
W-015
W-016
W-01801
W-01802
W-020
W-021
W-022
W-023
W-024
W-025
W-026
W-027
W-028
W-029
W-030
W-031
W-032
W-033
W-034
W-035
W-036
W-037
W-038
W-039

NAME
K'anaqchimpa
K'anaqchimpa
K'anaqchimpa
K'anaqchimpa
K'anaqchimpa
Huamanmarka
Perolniyoq

Saratuhuaylla
Pitukaylla
Pitukaylla Alta
Erapata
Inkamalo
Inkavilkana
Mawaypata
Chaqrepampa
Chaquepay
Roq'akancha
Cruz Pata
Q'elloqaqa

Churapata

SITE CLASS
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Agricultural Com
Nucleated res
Station
Station
Agricultural Com
Dispersed res
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Dispersed res
Enclosure
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Dispersed res
Dispersed res
Agricultural Com
Agricultural Com
Dispersed res
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Other
Nucleated res
Station
Other

W-041
W-042
W-043
NUMBER
W-044
W-045
W-047
W-050
W-051
W-052
W-053
W-054
W-055
W-056
W-057
W-058
W-059
W-060
W-061
W-062
W-063
W-064
W-06501
W-06502
W-067
W-068
W-069
W-070
W-071
W-072
W-073
W-074
W-076
W-077
W-078
W-079
W-080

328

Wat'a
Tapara
Sulkan
NAME
Kinzaera
Raqaypahua
Qolqapata
Cerro Rontoqay
Cabracanch
Lloqeyoc

Patapatayoq
Iglesiachayoq
Patawasi
Alfapata
Patawasi

Qorimarka
Qorimarka
Pantonay
Qorimarka
Mosoqllaqta
Wakakancha
Chiara
Llamachayoq
Patapatayoq
Kantupata

Raqaypata

Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
SITE CLASS
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Agricultural Com
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Enclosure
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Dispersed res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Station
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Other
Nucleated res
Nucleated res

NUMBER
W-081
W-082
W-083
W-084
W-085
W-088
W-089
W-090
W-091
W-092
W-093
W-094
W-096
W-097
W-099
W-105
W-108
W-11001
W-11002
W-11003
W-11301
W-11302
W-114
W-115
W-116
W-117
W-119
W-12001
W-12002
W-122
W-123
W-12401
W-12402
W-126
W-128
W-129
W-130
W-131
W-132

NAME
Hanupata
Yuracqaqa
Qelloqaqa
Racca
Arintoqancha
Atoqpana

Ayapata
Inquilpata

Chulluraqay
Incapintay
Simapukio
Simapukio
Simapukio
Muyopata
Muyopata Alta
Soqomarka
Kachikata
Juandelayoq
Bandolista
Anaqelqa
Choquebamba
Choquebamba
Hatun Poques
Huchuy Poques
Pumamarka
Pumamarka

Suchuna
Muyupuqio

SITE CLASS
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Station
Artifact Scatter
Dispersed res
Station
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Other
Artifact Scatter
Dispersed res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Agricultural Com
Agricultural Com
Agricultural Com
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Dispersed res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Dispersed res
Dispersed res

NUMBER
W-134
W-135
W-136
W-137
W-138
W-139
W-140
W-141
W-143
W-14401
W-14402
W-146
W-149
W-150
W-151
W-152
W-153
W-155
W-156
W-157
W-158
W-159
W-160
W-161
W-162
W-163
W-164
W-165
W-166
W-167
W-168
W-169
W-171
W-173
W-174
W-175
W-176
W-180
W-181

329

NAME
Pacpayoq
Sallaqaqa
Palpayoq
Cantera
Rumira

Uyvisquyoq
Huayllapata
Llactallaqtayoq
Huaylluhuaylloq
Chakipukio

Chusicasa
Murispampa
Raqaypunku

Kabraqancha
Poques
Saywapata
Markacocha
Ayapata
Hatunpampa
Inkaperqa

Patawasi
Rumira
Andenpata
Markayphiri
Yanawara
Markayphiri
Markayphiri

SITE CLASS
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Station
Dispersed res
Station
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Enclosure
Artifact Scatter
Enclosure
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Nucleated res

NUMBER
W-182
W-183
W-184
W-185
W-187
W-189
W-190
W-191
W-193
W-194
W-195
W-196
W-19701
W-19702
W-198
W-199
W-201
W-202
W-203
W-204
W-205
W-207
W-210
W-211
W-212
W-213
W-214
W-215

NAME
Saqsaywaman
Torrecaca

Tarasaki

Machayoq

SITE CLASS
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Dispersed res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Agricultural Com
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Enclosure
Enclosure
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter

NUMBER
W-216
W-217
W-218
W-219
W-221
W-222
W-223
W-224
W-226
W-227
W-229
W-230
W-231
W-232
W-233
W-234
W-235
W-237
W-238
W-240
W-241
W-242
W-243
W-244
W-245
W-246
W-249

330

NAME

Raqaypata

Llactapata
Llactapata

SITE CLASS
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Dispersed res
Dispersed res
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Artifact Scatter
Agricultural Com
Artifact Scatter
Nucleated res
Nucleated res
Agricultural Com

Table B.6: Ollanta Phase Architectural Data

NUMBER
W-001
W-004
W-005
W-015
W-021
W-022
W-023
W-027
W-029
W-030
W-032
W-035
W-036
W-037
W-038
W-039
W-040
W-041
W-042
W-043
W-044
W-047
W-052
W-053
W-054
W-055
W-057
W-058
W-062
W-067
W-069
W-071
W-072
W-080
W-081
W-082
W-083
W-084
W-085
W-087
W-088
W-089

HOUSE COUNT
0
Med (6-12)
0
Low (1-5)
0
0
Low (1-5)
Med (6-12)
0
Med (6-12)
Low (1-5)
0
0
0
Med (6-12)
0
0
High (13-25)
0
Med (6-12)
High (13-25)
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
Low (1-5)
0
0
0
0
Low (1-5)
0
0
0

AV WW
0
50
0
50
0
0
35
40
0
35
35
0
0
0
35
0
0
70
0
50
35
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
35
0
0
0
0
35
0
0
0

ARCH VAR
0
Low Medium
0
Low
0
0
0
Low
0
0
0
0
0
0
Low Medium
0
0
High Medium
0
Low Medium
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

331

HSE AREA
VAR
0
0
0
0
0
0
Low
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
Low
0
0
High
0
Medium
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

PLATFORMS

Yes

Yes

NUMBER
W-093
W-094
W-11301
W-11302
W-114
W-116
W-12001
W-12002
W-122
W-123
W-12401
W-12402
W-132
W-134
W-137
W-143
W-14401
W-14402
W-146
W-149
W-150
W-151
W-157
W-160
W-161
W-163
W-164
W-166
W-167
W-168
W-173
W-175
W-176
W-180
W-192
W-206
W-209
W-247
W-248

HOUSE COUNT
Low (1-5)
Low (1-5)
High (13-25)
Very High (>25)
0
Low (1-5)
0
Med (6-12)
High (13-25)
Low (1-5)
Med (6-12)
High (13-25)
0
0
Med (6-12)
0
High (13-25)
Very High (>25)
Med (6-12)
High (13-25)
High (13-25)
0
Med (6-12)
0
0
0
Very High (>25)
Med (6-12)
0
0
0
Med (6-12)
Low (1-5)
High (13-25)
0
0
0
0
0

AV WW
35
35
35
40
0
40
0
35
35
35
60
35
0
0
50
0
50
50
35
35
50
0
35
0
0
0
35
35
0
0
0
40
70
40
0
0
0
0
0

ARCH VAR
Low
0
Low
Low Medium
0
0
0
Low Medium
Low Medium
0
High
Low Medium
0
0
Low Medium
0
Low Medium
Low Medium
Low Medium
Low Medium
Low Medium
0
Low
0
0
0
Medium
Low Medium
0
0
0
0
Medium
Low
0
0
0
0
0

332

HSE AREA
VAR
Medium
0
Low
Low
0
0
0
0
Low
0
High
Medium
0
0
Medium
0
Medium
Medium
Medium
Medium
Medium
0
Low
0
0
0
High
Low
0
0
0
0
0
Medium
0
0
0
0
0

PLATFORMS

Yes

Yes

Yes

OLLANTA PHASE ARCHITECTURAL CODES:

HOUSE COUNTCategorical rendering of the number of houses recorded.
AV WW Average wall width among a representative sample of houses.
ARCH VAR Categorical representation of architectural variation, based on the presence and
absence of architectural attributes like house platforms, quoins, subdivided rooms, selected
stone, and/or shaped stone.
HSE AREA VARCategorical representation of house area measurements, representing the
amount of variation among houses within sites. House area was estimated by measuring the
diameter of circular structures, or the diagonal and one side of D-shaped structures.
PLATFORMSPresence of open platforms (typically circular) within the site.

NOTE: The architectural data presented here only represent the variables considered in this
dissertation. The complete array of architectural data from the Wata Archaeological Project will
be published in an upcoming article.

333

Table B.7: Tomb Sites

NUMBER
WT-006
WT-018
WT-020
WT-022
WT-027
WT-030
WT-036
WT-037
WT-038
WT-039
WT-040
WT-041
WT-043
WT-044
WT-045
WT-047
WT-054
WT-059
WT-061
WT-077
WT-078
WT-079
WT-080
WT-084
WT-087
WT-088
WT-089
WT-092
WT-093
WT-11002
WT-11003
WT-11301
WT-11302
WT-114

SITE CLASS
Interspersed (4-10)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Interspersed (4-10)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Interspersed (4-10)
Discrete Complexes (>10)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Discrete Complexes (>10)
Discrete Complexes (>10)
Interspersed (4-10)
Interspersed (4-10)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Discrete Complexes (>10)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Interspersed (4-10)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Interspersed (4-10)
Interspersed (4-10)
Interspersed (4-10)
Interspersed (4-10)
Interspersed (4-10)

MORPHOLOGY
Open
Closed
Closed
Open
Open
Closed
Closed
Open
Closed
Closed
Closed
Open
Open
Closed
Open
Open
Closed
Open
Closed
Closed
Closed
Closed
Closed
Closed
Closed
Open
Open
Closed
Closed
Open
Open
Open
Open
Open

334

TYPE
Cliff
Enclosure
Cist
Cliff
Cliff
Enclosure
Enclosure
Cliff
Cliff
Cist
Cist
Multiple
Cliff
Enclosure
Tower
Enclosure
Enclosure
Cliff
Cliff
Cist
Cist
Enclosure
Enclosure
Cist
Cist
Cliff
Tower
Tower
Enclosure
Tower
Tower
Tower
Tower
Tower

OPSVP
2
4
26
6

32
0
8
76
88
20
8
12
0

29
0

6
28

NUMBER
WT-116
WT-119
WT-120
WT-123
WT-12401
WT-132
WT-135
WT-138
WT-139
WT-141
WT-142
WT-143
WT-14401
WT-14402
WT-145
WT-146
WT-149
WT-163
WT-164
WT-168
WT-173
WT-174
WT-175
WT-176
WT-177
WT-181
WT-197
WT-213
WT-224
WT-226
WT-231
WT-252
WT-258

SITE CLASS
Interspersed (4-10)
Isolated (1-3)
Interspersed (4-10)
Isolated (1-3)
Discrete Complexes (>10)
Isolated (1-3)
Interspersed (4-10)
Interspersed (4-10)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Discrete Complexes (>10)
Discrete Complexes (>10)
Interspersed (4-10)
Interspersed (4-10)
Isolated (1-3)
Interspersed (4-10)
Interspersed (4-10)
Isolated (1-3)
Interspersed (4-10)
Discrete Complexes (>10)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Interspersed (4-10)
Discrete Complexes (>10)
Interspersed (4-10)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Isolated (1-3)
Interspersed (4-10)
Interspersed (4-10)

MORPHOLOGY
Open
Closed
Closed
Closed
Open
Open
Open
Open
Open
Open
Open
Open
Closed
Open
Closed
Open
Open
Closed
Open
Open
Closed
Open
Open
Open
Open
Closed
Closed
Closed
Closed
Open
Open
Open
Open

TYPE
Tower
Enclosure
Enclosure
Enclosure
Tower
Tower
Tower
Tower
Tower
Tower
Tower
Tower
Enclosure
Tower
Enclosure
Tower
Tower
Enclosure
Tower
Tower
Enclosure
Tower
Box
Box
Box
Tower
Enclosure
Enclosure
Enclosure
Tower
Tower
Tower
Tower

OPSVP
18
12
0
44
2

80
18

64
15
32
58

22
48
23

OPSV data are included in the tomb sites table since these data were reviewed in this study. Inka
data, and other mortuary site data will be published in an upcoming article.

335

APPENDIX C: EXCAVATION DATA

CODES:
These codes represent data presented in this study.
SQMSquare meters
CXTContext number
TCWTotal ceramic weight (kg)
BCBurnt ceramics (count)
BCPBurnt ceramics percentage
BBBurnt bone (count)
BBPBurnt bone percentage
OPSVOP serving vessels (count)
OPSVPOP serving vessels (perecentage)
INSVInka serving vessels (count)
INSVPInka serving vessels (percentage)
OVSVPOverall serving vessels (percentage)
CY NCuy NISP
CY NCuy weight (g)
DG NDog NISP
DG WDog weight (g)
OV NDeer NISP
OV WDeer weight (g)
CM NCamelid NISP
CM WCamelid weight (g)
MM NUnidentifiable mammal NISP
MM WUnidentifiable mammal weight (g)

336

Table C.1: Ollanta Phase Contexts

UNIT
10
10
10
10
10
10
11
11
14
14
14
13
13
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
17
17
17
17
17
19
19
19
20
20
20

SQM
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
5
5
3
3
3
5
3
3
5
5
5
5
5
5
4
4
4
4
4
2
2
2
8
8
8
8
8
9
9
9
1
1
1

CXT
1004
1005
1006
1008
1009
1007
1104
1105
1402
14502
14602
1302
1310
151002
151102
1511021
1511011
1512021
1512025
151201
151305
151501
151601
151401
1514015
16701
16801
16802
16901
16902
1161001
161005
166010
1704
17402
1705
17502
17602
1905
1906
1907
2004
2005
2006

TCW
1.81
0.42
0.06
0.99
0.01
0.11
3.78
6.32
6.30
3.20
3.40
8.89
0.35
7.05
2.42
4.92
0.82
1.08
0.78
0.60
1.19
3.90
2.90
1.10
0.40
2.98
2.20
2.98
3.00
4.60
1.48
2.78
3.78
3.80
4.22
20.62
2.78
5.62
5.60
3.60
0.72
0.39
0.36
0.22

BC
63
14
2
55
1
7
93
88
102
61
50
195
7
123
28
103
35
22
27
12
48
33
55
31
14
44
25
50
40
100
38
48
39
89
56
194
49
31
98
48
15
10
7
16

BCP
48.1
30.4
22.2
55.0
100.0
38.9
40.3
29.2
32.5
38.4
36.5
38.8
89.2
100.0
100.0
36.0
46.1
40.7
42.9
36.4
57.1
44.0
32.4
25.6
45.2
37.0
45.5
50.0
48.2
55.6
46.9
53.3
43.3
50.3
26.3
38.0
35.0
27.9
41.5
38.1
41.7
43.5
50.0
61.5

337

OPSV
6
0
0
6
0
0
6
0
6
0
12
24
2
2
2
6
8
2
2
2
0
0
0
10
0
12
0
2
0
6
4
8
0
0
0
0
0
0
4
0
0
4
0
0

OPSVP
13.3
0.0
0.0
8.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
50.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
20.0
75.0
44.4
0.0
50.0
40.0
88.9
0.0
0.0
11.1
66.7
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
16.7
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
48.0
42.1
15.4
0.0
23.5

BB
0
3
0
5
1
0
13
3
30
3
22
28
1
18
15
13
1
11
19
0
0
3
0
1
0
17
12
51
13
23
2
12
18
38
3
11
2
5
11
20
16
4
1
0

BBP
0.0
30.0
0.0
15.0
1.4
0.0
4.8
4.6
44.1
50.0
52.4
33.0
30.0
25.0
26.0
16.0
25.0
24.0
22.0
0.0
0.0
9.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
26.6
24.5
19.0
17.6
44.2
33.3
30.8
17.6
46.3
15.8
7.0
4.3
6.8
23.9
43.5
69.6
26.6
20.0
0.0

UNIT
20
601
601
601
601
601
601
602
602
602
602
602
602
602
602
602
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604

SQM
1
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4

CXT
2007
60112
60113
60114
60115
60116
60117
60212
60213
60214
60215
60216
60217
60218
60219
60220
60306
60307
60308
60309
60310
60311
60312
60313
60314
60315
60316
60317
60318
60319
60407
60408
60409
60410
60411
60412
60413
60414
60415
60416
60417
60418
60419
60420

TCW
0.72
1.75
1.40
0.46
2.29
0.13
0.20
2.22
0.50
0.30
0.11
0.12
0.13
0.09
0.05
0.00
2.60
0.90
0.54
1.51
1.43
2.91
2.33
1.66
0.71
0.44
0.30
0.14
0.11
0.77
2.49
0.49
1.00
1.52
0.71
1.99
1.10
0.70
0.33
0.24
0.22
0.13
0.10
0.10

BC
7
38
47
3
105
6
6
79
15
5
8
3
11
5
4
0
45
20
18
48
36
48
54
35
20
8
7
13
6
24
74
14
25
13
11
62
27
22
8
8
7
3
2
0

BCP
25.9
35.5
54.0
14.3
60.7
31.6
30.0
57.7
62.5
31.3
61.5
23.1
61.1
83.3
44.4
0.0
34.1
35.1
41.9
52.2
34.6
27.6
38.6
37.6
35.1
34.8
43.8
66.5
46.2
40.7
48.1
45.2
45.5
24.5
37.9
39.2
46.6
39.3
36.4
40.0
46.7
30.0
25.0
0.0

338

OPSV
0
2
0
0
0
0
0
8
2
6
0
6
4
8
0
0
40
4
0
2
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
2
2
4
0
0
4
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

OPSVP
42.9
33.3
0.0
0.0
13.3
0.0
25.0
0.0
40.0
11.5
50.0
18.2
19.0
14.3
42.1
26.7
0.0
0.0
20.0
6.1
0.0
15.4
60.0
46.2
26.1
0.0
0.0
22.2
28.6
16.4
5.6
6.3
6.1
0.0
11.4
11.8
22.2
21.4
20.7
0.0
0.0
50.0
0.0
0.0

BB
1
29
29
1
4
7
6
19
4
1
0
0
3
3
0
1
9
14
32
17
12
8
1
10
13
1
0
1
2
17
35
1
24
4
24
27
2
2
1
2
0
0
0
0

BBP
10.0
41.4
49.2
9.1
100.0
58.3
100.0
55.9
21.1
33.3
0.0
0.0
25.0
17.6
0.0
100.0
37.5
48.3
66.7
68.0
60.0
61.5
66.7
58.8
37.1
33.3
0.0
0.0
0.0
89.5
41.7
40.7
66.7
50.0
72.7
33.8
50.0
28.6
50.0
33.3
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

Table C.2: Ollanta Phase Contexts (Faunal)

UNIT
10
10
10
10
10
10
11
11
14
14
14
13
13
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
17
17
17
17
17
19
19
19
20
20

CXT
1004
1005
1006
1008
1009
1007
1104
1105
1402
14502
14602
1302
1310
151002
151102
1511021
1511011
1512021
1512025
151201
151305
151501
151601
151401
1514015
16701
16801
16802
16901
16902
1161001
161005
166010
1704
17402
1705
17502
17602
1905
1906
1907
2004
2005

CY
N
0
1
0
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
2
0
0
0
1
1
0
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
0
1
1
0
0
0
0
0
0

CY W
0.0
0.4
0.0
1.2
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
1.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
2.3
1.0
0.0
1.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.2
0.0
0.0
0.0
1.4
0.4
0.0
0.0
2.0
1.0
0.0
0.0

DG
N
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
3
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
7
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
1
0
0
0
0
2
1
0
0

DG W
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
1.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
9.0
0.0
2.1
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
8.0
8.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

339

OV N
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
2
3
0
0
0
0
0
3
0
2
5
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
7
1
0
0
0
0

OV W
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
2.8
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
2.1
8.7
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
12.6
0.0
10.7
189.4
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
3.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
51.7
2.4
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

CM
N
14
6
4
8
0
0
10
3
15
0
59
12
0
26
26
0
9
9
0
8
18
3
4
8
0
20
4
10
6
21
0
10
4
14
12
18
15
21
19
3
7
2
2

CM W
44.1
25.7
52.1
49.8
0.0
0.0
32.0
5.1
78.3
0.0
62.7
32.8
0.0
93.9
78.3
0.0
30.8
39.6
0.0
42.4
54.6
7.4
37.4
20.2
0.0
135.5
35.8
81.2
22.9
89.3
0.0
67.1
39.8
86.8
118.7
130.1
62.3
91.5
172.5
9.4
43.7
9.1
13.1

MM
N
12
4
0
8
0
0
25
59
59
0
27
26
0
81
43
0
52
31
0
32
35
0
14
36
0
0
0
81
0
92
0
0
0
47
14
46
35
44
0
0
0
11
4

MM
W
55.6
4.9
0.0
17.3
0.0
0.0
27.7
76.0
62.7
0.0
38.3
31.1
0.0
87.3
45.2
0.0
54.5
25.9
0.0
50.9
45.5
0.0
20.9
37.2
0.0
0.0
0.0
87.4
0.0
115.4
0.0
0.0
0.0
74.2
23.8
86.3
41.3
63.7
0.0
0.0
0.0
10.7
5.5

UNIT
20
20
601
601
601
601
601
601
602
602
602
602
602
602
602
602
602
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
603
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604
604

CXT
2006
2007
60112
60113
60114
60115
60116
60117
60212
60213
60214
60215
60216
60217
60218
60219
60220
60306
60307
60308
60309
60310
60311
60312
60313
60314
60315
60316
60317
60318
60319
60407
60408
60409
60410
60411
60412
60413
60414
60415
60416
60417
60418
60419
60420

CY
N
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
3
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
6
1
0
0
1
0
0
3
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
3
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

CY W
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
2.2
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.8
0.3
0.0
0.0
0.8
0.0
0.0
1.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
1.7
0.5
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

DG
N
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
90
136
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

DG W
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
10.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
72.3
58.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
4.7
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

340

OV N
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

OV W
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
3.4
0.0
0.0
3.1
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

CM
N
1
5
26
7
0
0
0
0
11
5
0
3
0
0
0
0
0
6
0
3
1
5
2
0
3
6
0
0
0
0
5
22
3
8
6
0
21
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

CM W
6.5
58.8
148.4
42.1
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
23.3
16.2
0.0
5.1
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
12.3
0.0
32.7
3.5
12.5
6.5
0.0
11.7
32.2
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
11.9
263.2
5.8
63.2
17.0
0.0
101.7
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

MM
N
5
7
50
50
9
25
0
4
19
11
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
13
0
65
19
0
0
0
19
24
0
0
0
0
14
56
0
27
0
28
61
0
0
0
5
0
0
0
0

MM
W
7.1
13.6
53.7
28.5
7.9
41.9
0.0
6.7
16.9
14.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
17.7
0.0
39.9
17.1
0.0
0.0
0.0
8.2
22.4
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
11.0
70.7
0.0
32.5
0.0
28.0
69.9
0.0
0.0
0.0
4.4
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

Table C.3: Inka Period Contexts

UNIT
1
1
1
2
2
2
2
2
3
3
3
3
3
3
3
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
5
5
5
5
5
7
7
7
7
7
7
9
9
9
9
10
10
11
11
14
14

SQM
2
2
2
4
4
4
4
4
2
2
2
2
2
2
2
9
9
9
9
9
9
9
9
2
2
2
2
2
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4

CTXT
104
105
106
201
202
203
204
205
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
404
405
406
407
408
409
4010
4011
503
504
505
506
507
703
704
705
706
707
708
902
903
904
905
1002
1003
1102
1103
14301
14302

TCW
3.23
0.94
0.06
3.28
5.66
0.22
1.08
0.24
1.23
1.03
0.76
1.32
3.08
1.26
0.64
6.05
8.52
9.90
6.49
3.53
0.75
0.62
0.78
0.90
9.20
6.10
4.19
2.52
1.41
3.34
1.90
0.21
0.06
0.09
1.90
3.38
1.82
0.38
0.40
1.24
2.00
3.52
2.34
0.93

BC
39
21
2
54
70
17
16
12
5
11
7
21
31
18
46
66
106
175
100
59
4
8
10
26
205
146
259
66
40
54
33
5
1
6
46
128
84
10
15
38
43
78
62
34

BCP
25.7
29.6
20.0
52.2
36.5
88.0
30.2
54.5
3.1
11.0
9.1
17.1
62.7
9.6
100.0
21.7
26.5
35.9
34.8
27.6
88.2
25.8
66.8
35.1
34.2
75.0
64.4
75.0
41.2
32.7
53.2
23.8
14.3
75.0
21.1
36.9
44.0
37.0
33.3
27.7
36.1
43.3
44.9
17.5

341

INSV
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
7
0
0
0
0
2
43
20
16
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
6
10
5
0
0
2
4
0
0
1

INSVP
0.0
33.3
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
87.5
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
40.0
75.4
74.1
64.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
30.0
34.5
29.4
0.0
0.0
33.3
57.1
0.0
0.0
33.3

OVSVP
57.14
90.00
0.00
8.11
28.57
33.33
0.00
0.00
0.00
30.00
0.00
37.50
0.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
40.68
45.45
6.52
25.00
0.00
40.00
20.00
50.55
50.00
38.10
33.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
27.27
49.00
16.67
50.00
0.00
13.33
41.67
0.00
0.00
34.38

BB
7
3
1
33
48
27
8
8
3
1
1
3
27
18
7
65
158
128
107
29
32
14
13
4
58
51
21
9
1
9
3
1
7
0
2
259
29
0
0
0
1
13
15
0

BBP
50.0
33.0
25.0
12.0
25.0
33.3
40.0
40.0
30.0
20.0
6.7
12.5
12.0
29.0
70.0
37.1
17.6
55.7
4.8
40.8
0.0
33.0
16.7
33.3
33.1
0.0
26.3
12.2
3.6
18.4
50.0
14.3
22.0
0.0
40.0
68.0
69.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
33.3
13.1
13.2
0.0

UNIT
14
14

SQM
4
4

CTXT
14401
14501

TCW
10.66
6.40

BC
220
120

BCP
34.0
36.9

INSV
7
8

INSVP
43.8
80.0

OVSVP
37.04
39.51

BB
81
33

BBP
51.6
37.5

14
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
17
17
19
19
19
20
20
102

4
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
3
4
4
4
4
2
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
9
9
9
1
1
2

14601
14301
15302
15401
15402
15501
15502
15601
15602
15701
15702
15801
15802
15901
15902
151001
2E+06
16301
16401
16501
16502
166015
16602
16604
16702
162003
163003
164003
165003
166003
167003
162004
163004
164004
165004
17201
17301
1902
1903
1904
2002
2003
10205

4.70
0.20
1.25
1.00
1.63
2.56
1.54
5.45
2.24
4.80
3.00
3.80
3.83
1.52
2.73
1.70
0.92
3.08
3.60
1.84
4.49
2.28
9.75
4.03
1.68
1.71
4.38
3.29
3.73
3.82
3.30
4.80
5.18
3.52
3.19
3.20
3.53
0.66
5.43
6.23
2.34
2.11
2.64

132
4
4
16
30
24
9
62
18
50
45
76
62
47
22
34
36
30
56
31
7
25
176
84
34
19
75
39
32
33
30
128
108
52
38
37
27
9
84
116
46
41
24

37.1
26.7
14.3
33.3
31.9
23.1
14.3
31.3
16.2
27.0
34.9
23.3
27.7
41.6
27.2
31.5
46.2
27.8
34.4
31.3
9.3
36.8
43.5
39.4
33.0
30.2
65.2
33.3
35.6
35.9
28.0
49.2
40.9
48.6
31.7
23.4
24.8
25.7
45.7
48.3
63.0
40.6
16.4

13
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
5
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
8
1
5
3
7
8
2
2
1
3
7
2
2
7
4
0
0
0
0
0
2

72.2
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
55.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
50.0
0.0
72.7
50.0
62.5
75.0
53.8
80.0
25.0
33.3
20.0
50.0
77.8
28.6
40.0
38.9
57.1
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
6.1

29.23
0.00
25.00
0.00
0.00
22.22
0.00
25.00
20.00
90.00
24.00
36.59
17.14
0.00
33.33
0.00
42.86
0.00
41.18
33.33
44.83
35.29
35.71
25.64
33.33
25.00
29.17
40.00
42.42
47.83
55.56
28.57
15.22
13.33
34.00
44.83
21.05
0.00
40.00
20.00
0.00
0.00
38.98

64
0
0
0
0
1
1
2
6
2
4
3
0
2
3
6
6
6
62
9
18
2
60
35
91
0
3
13
15
17
0
30
11
31
4
5
4
1
22
9
18
4
8

62.1
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
9.1
100.0
8.0
100.0
8.7
100.0
14.3
0.0
100.0
66.7
60.0
100.0
37.5
64.6
45.0
81.8
66.7
44.4
42.2
87.5
0.0
12.0
37.1
37.5
33.3
0.0
40.0
19.0
24.4
28.6
35.7
12.1
100.0
22.4
16.1
0.0
14.3
24.0

342

UNIT
102
102
102
601
601
601
601
601
601
601
602
602
602
602
602
602
602
602
603
603
603
603
604
604
604
604
604
1,201
1,201
1,201
1,202
1,202
1,202
1,301
1,301
1,301
1,301
1,302
1,302
1,302
1,302

SQM
2
2
2
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4

CTXT
10204
10207
10206
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
2
3
4
5
2
3
4
5
6
120101
120102
120103
120202
120203
120204
130101
130102
130103
130104
130202
130203
130204
130205

TCW
2.63
0.10
0.28
0.99
0.90
1.02
1.12
2.10
2.32
1.70
0.42
0.36
0.61
0.49
0.46
0.64
1.09
2.48
0.69
0.72
0.66
2.10
0.21
1.40
2.56
2.71
3.39
1.44
0.58
1.81
0.16
1.92
0.90
1.57
6.08
4.10
0.20
3.45
7.65
0.09
0.20

BC
5
3
5
13
7
22
23
53
56
49
11
6
2
7
8
16
19
66
20
21
10
36
6
26
85
119
94
50
13
31
0
66
26
15
82
83
6
97
95
7
7

BCP
3.6
60.0
20.8
31.7
15.6
37.9
37.1
62.7
44.1
39.5
34.4
22.2
6.9
22.6
66.0
35.6
25.0
88.0
77.0
88.0
27.0
30.8
42.9
32.1
37.8
45.4
90.0
0.0
31.7
44.9
0.0
46.2
46.4
19.7
36.4
46.1
40.0
40.8
28.6
50.0
87.5

343

INSV
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
11
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
4
23
3
2
17
10
0
0

INSVP
6.3
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
78.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
57.1
79.3
42.9
66.7
100.0
100.0
0.0
0.0

OVSVP
41.94
0.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
30.77
0.00
25.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
37.50
10.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
62.50
22.22
0.00
50.00
62.50
22.22
27.27
25.00
15.79
40.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
0.00
62.50
61.29
52.17
62.50
56.10
100.00
0.00
0.00

BB
3
1
0
0
2
2
10
15
21
7
0
2
0
1
4
6
4
8
5
6
4
29
0
4
26
118
72
3
1
1
0
25
0
55
33
59
8
10
7
0
34

BBP
18.0
17.0
0.0
0.0
33.3
16.7
37.0
26.3
35.6
25.9
0.0
33.3
0.0
33.3
0.0
33.3
23.5
24.2
16.7
4.8
25.0
22.0
0.0
33.3
32.5
17.6
37.9
42.9
12.5
7.1
0.0
28.7
0.0
22.3
14.2
22.3
61.5
10.2
21.9
0.0
94.4

Table C.4: Inka Period Contexts (Faunal)

UNIT
1
1
1
2
2
2
2
2
3
3
3
3
3
3
3
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
5
5
5
5
5
7
7
7
7
7
7
9
9
9
9
10
10
11
11
14

SQM
2
2
2
4
4
4
4
4
2
2
2
2
2
2
2
9
9
9
9
9
9
9
9
2
2
2
2
2
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4

CTXT
104
105
106
201
202
203
204
205
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
404
405
406
407
408
409
4010
4011
503
504
505
506
507
703
704
705
706
707
708
902
903
904
905
1002
1003
1102
1103
14301

CY
N
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
4
2
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
2
0
0
0

CY W
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
1.5
5.0
0.4
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.7
0.0
0.0
0.0

DG
N
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
115
6
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

DG P
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
1.3
29.3
2.8
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

344

OV N
0
0
0
1
0
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
8
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

OV W
0.0
0.0
0.0
2.8
0.0
15.8
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
3.5
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
50.9
47.7
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
2.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

CM
N
3
3
5
7
33
7
0
1
1
0
2
6
13
14
1
38
39
53
66
37
8
4
12
3
34
16
53
38
15
10
2
1
3
0
0
26
20
3
5
21
0
16
51

CM W
20.0
22.4
40.0
33.0
204.3
15.7
0.0
16.9
4.3
0.0
10.7
29.3
84.2
90.8
5.2
257.4
180.3
293.0
566.0
217.0
89.0
21.3
38.9
21.9
216.3
91.5
459.1
244.3
53.2
141.3
1.8
10.0
22.2
0.0
0.0
111.7
64.5
8.7
11.8
68.5
0.0
47.2
167.6

MM
N
10
6
2
39
110
16
8
30
7
6
10
18
48
44
8
133
196
155
172
39
11
0
9
0
204
0
140
39
14
44
5
7
5
0
0
305
258
25
0
15
0
70
119

MMW
16.3
13.3
2.4
67.4
147.2
19.9
12.5
24.6
13.1
15.9
7.6
21.0
73.3
52.9
11.7
192.2
255.9
162.9
392.8
57.0
19.0
0.0
9.5
0.0
306.2
0.0
183.1
47.4
21.2
71.3
8.2
6.5
5.5
0.0
0.0
256.2
205.0
28.7
0.0
21.8
0.0
113.8
121.6

UNIT
14
14
14
14
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
15
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
16
17
17
19
19
19
20
20

SQM
4
4
4
4
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
5
3
4
4
4
4
2
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
9
9
9
1
1

CTXT
14302
14401
14501
14601
14301
15302
15401
15402
15501
15502
15601
15602
15701
15702
15801
15802
15901
15902
151001
2E+06
16301
16401
16501
16502
166015
16602
16604
16702
162003
163003
164003
165003
166003
167003
162004
163004
164004
165004
17201
17301
1902
1903
1904
2002
2003

CY
N
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
3
0
0
0
1
1
0
0
0
2
6
0
4
0
0
0
0
0
1
0

CY W
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
2.5
0.0
0.0
0.0
1.7
1.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
1.8
3.7
0.0
2.3
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.3
0.0

DG
N
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

DG P
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
2.5
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

345

OV N
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
3
0
0

OV W
7.4
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
10.5
0.0
4.5
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
3.2
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
16.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
30.9
0.0
0.0

CM
N
19
43
25
22
0
0
0
0
7
0
15
4
3
3
6
4
1
2
4
0
2
10
3
1
9
18
0
9
0
27
4
41
0
0
22
91
0
47
16
11
0
48
20
8
10

CM W
178.0
145.3
76.8
110.9
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
27.3
0.0
217.9
27.3
15.0
46.4
31.9
42.4
1.4
9.1
12.2
0.0
12.4
54.9
25.8
1.1
62.1
158.9
0.0
72.7
0.0
180.9
62.8
286.4
0.0
0.0
88.4
767.2
0.0
356.9
98.6
46.6
0.0
329.9
129.8
70.3
63.1

MM
N
0
105
53
101
0
0
0
0
3
0
15
8
22
16
14
15
0
14
7
0
14
79
17
25
0
113
0
77
0
34
14
73
0
0
59
107
0
83
30
21
0
0
0
21
18

MMW
0.0
124.7
52.5
112.9
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
3.2
0.0
33.3
6.9
27.0
23.9
16.0
13.4
0.0
9.1
9.2
0.0
19.0
87.8
20.1
25.3
0.0
144.6
0.0
111.7
0.0
73.4
19.6
91.6
0.0
0.0
91.3
207.8
0.0
106.4
32.5
38.4
0.0
0.0
0.0
30.9
26.2

UNIT
102
102
102
102
601
601
601
601
601
601
601
602
602
602
602
602
602
602
602
603
603
603
603
604
604
604
604
604
1,201
1,201
1,201
1,202
1,202
1,202
1,301
1,301
1,301
1,301
1,302
1,302
1,302
1,302

SQM
2
2
2
2
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4

CTXT
10205
10204
10207
10206
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
2
3
4
5
2
3
4
5
6
120101
120102
120103
120202
120203
120204
130101
130102
130103
130104
130202
130203
130204
130205

CY
N
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
2
3
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
5
0
0
0
0
1

CY W
0.5
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.5
0.0
0.0
2.1
1.2
1.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
2.1
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.8

DG
N
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
76
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

DG P
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
25.1
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

346

OV N
0
0
0
0
0
1
1
3
0
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
1
0
0
0
0
4
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0

OV W
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
16.5
28.3
28.8
0.0
0.0
10.9
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
7.5
0.0
1.3
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
21.6
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0

CM
N
5
1
0
0
4
4
6
5
25
16
15
2
1
1
3
6
4
0
0
0
0
0
5
0
3
21
29
45
7
7
2
1
18
4
15
67
48
0
22
5
0
0

CM W
30.5
7.6
0.0
0.0
34.1
20.2
157.5
16.8
164.4
90.9
45.8
10.0
4.1
3.9
7.3
11.0
20.3
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
41.9
0.0
4.4
32.1
229.0
241.4
33.4
92.0
13.2
24.7
198.3
24.2
132.6
485.0
296.1
0.0
124.8
106.8
0.0
0.0

MM
N
23
12
0
0
0
0
0
15
32
39
10
3
5
0
0
0
11
0
0
0
0
0
28
0
8
51
107
132
20
0
13
0
54
6
72
318
148
0
66
26
0
15

MMW
26.5
7.1
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
18.5
34.8
54.4
19.2
3.1
5.1
0.0
0.0
0.0
17.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
37.6
0.0
7.4
58.5
153.5
176.0
17.0
0.0
20.3
0.0
87.1
9.3
89.7
570.5
189.5
0.0
88.3
40.5
0.0
16.9

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Aase, T. H. 1994. Symbolic Space: Representations of Space in Geography and Anthropology.

Geografiska Annaler, Series B, Human Geography 76.
Abrams, P. 1977. Note on the Difficulty of Studying the State. Journal of Historical Sociology
1:58-89.
Acosta, J. de 2002[1590]. Natural and Moral History of the Indies. Durham, NC.: Duke
University Press.
Acuto, F. A. 2005. "The materiality of Inka domination: Landscape, spectacle, memory, and
ancestors," in Global Archaeological Theory. Edited by P. P. A. Funari, A. Zarankin, and
E. Stovel, pp. 211-236. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum.
Adams, R. M. 1956. Some Hypotheses on the Development of Early Civilizations. American
Antiquity 21:227-232.
. 1966. The Evolution of Urban Society: Early Mesopotamia and Prehistoric Mexico. Chicago:
Aldine Publishing Company.
. 1981. Heartland of Cities: Surveys of Ancient Settlement ad Land Use on the Central
Floodplain of the Euphrates. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
. 2000. Review: Scale and Complexity in Archaic States. Latin American Antiquity 1:187-193.
Agnew, J. A. 1987. Place and Politics: The Geographical Mediation of State and Society.
Boston: Allen and Unwin.
Alcina Franch, J. 1978. Ingapirca: aquitectura y reas de asentamiento. Revista de Antropologa
Americana 8:127-146.
Alcock, S. E. 1993. Graecia Capta: The Landscape of Roman Greece. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
. 2002. Archaeologies of the Greek Past: Landscape, Monuments, and Memories. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Alconini, S. 2004. The Southeastern Inka Frontier against the Chiriguanos: Structure and
Dynamics in the Bolivian Chaco. Latin American Antiquity 15:389-418.
. 2008. Dis-embedded Centers and Architecture of Power in the Fringes of the Inka Empire:
New Perspectives on Territorial and Hegemonic Strategies of Domination. Journal of
Anthropological Archaeology 27:63-81.
347

Algaze, G. 1993. Expansionary Dynamics of Some Early Pristine States. American

Anthropologist 95:304-33.
Allen, C. 2002. The Hold Life Has: Coca and Cultural Identity in an Andean Community.
Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution Press.
Alonso, A. M. 1994. The Politics of Space, Time and Substance: State Formation, Nationalism
and Ethnicity. Annual Review of Anthropology 23:379-405.
Anderson, B. 1983. Imagined Communities. London: Verso.
Arextaga, B. 2003. Maddening States. Annual Review of Anthropology 32:393-410.
Arkush, E. 2005. Colla Fortified Sites: Warfare and Regional Power in the Late Prehispanic
Titicaca Basin, Peru. Unpublished PhD Dissertation, Department of Anthropology,
University of California Los Angeles.
. 2008. War, Causality, and Chronology in the Titicaca Basin. Latin American Antiquity
19:339-373.
Arkush, E., and C. Stanish. 2005. Interpreting conflict in the ancient Andes: implications for the
archaeology of warfare. Current Anthropology 46:3-28.
Arnold, D. 1997. "The colonial prison: Power, knowledge, and penology in nineteenth-century
India," in A Subaltern Studies Reader, 1986-1995. Edited by R. Guha, pp. 140-178.
Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Arriaga, P. J. d. 1968[1621]. The Extirpation of Idolatry in Peru. Lexington, KY.: University of
Kentucky Press.
Ascher, M., and R. Ascher. 1981. Code of the Quipu: A Study in Media, Mathematics, and
Culture. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.
Ashmore, W., and J. A. Sabloff. 2002. Spatial Orders in Maya Civic Plans. Latin American
Antiquity 13:201-215.
Avila, F. d. 1987[1598]. Ritos y tradiciones de Huarochiri del siglo XVII. Lima: Instituto de
Estudios Peruanos/Instituto Frances de Estudios Andinos.
Baines, J., and N. Yoffee. 1998. "Order, Legitimacy, and Wealth in Ancient Egypt and
Mesopotamia," in Archaic States. Edited by G. Feinman and J. Marcus, pp. 199-260.
Santa Fe: School of American Research Press.
. 2000. "Order, Legitimacy, and Wealth: Setting the Terms," in Order, Legitimacy, and Wealth
in Ancient States. Edited by J. E. Richards and M. Van Buren. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
348

Balkansky, A. K. 1998. Urbanism and Early State Formation in the Huamelulpan Valley of
Southern Mexico. Latin American Antiquity 9:37-67.
Bandera, D. de la 1968[1557]. Relacion del origen e gobierno que los Ingas tuvieron. Biblioteca
Peruana, tomo 3. Lima: Editores Tecnicos Asociados S.A.
Barnett, H. G. 1938. The Nature of the Potlatch. American Anthropologist 40:349-358.
Barrenechea, R. P. 1984. Los Cronistas del Per (1528-1650) y Otros Ensayos. Lima: Biblioteca
Clsicos del Per.
Barrett, J. C. 1994. Fragments from Antiquity: An Archaeology of Social Life in Britain, 29001200 B.C. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers.
Bass, W. M. 2005. Human Osteology: A Laboratory and Field Manual, 5th Edition. Columbia,
MO.: Missouri Archaeological Society.
Bauer, B. S. 1991. Pacariqtambo and the Mythical Origins of the Inca. Latin American Antiquity
2:7-26.
. 1992. The Development of the Inca State. Austin: University of Texas Press.
. 1998. The Sacred Landscape of the Inca: The Cusco Ceque System. Austin: University of
Texas Press.
. 1999. The Early Ceramics of the Inca Heartland. Fieldiana Anthropology, New Series, 31.
Chicago: Field Museum of Natural History.
. 2002. Las antiguas tradiciones alfareras de la regin del Cuzco. Cuzco, Per: Centro
Bartolom de las Casas.
. 2004. Ancient Cuzco: Heartland of the Inka. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Bauer, B. S., and R. A. Covey. 2002. State Development in the Inca Heartland (Cuzco, Peru).
American Anthropologist 10:846-864.
Bauer, B. S., and W. B. Orosco. 1998. Reconstructing Andean Shrine Systems: A Test Case
from the Xaquixaguana (Anta) Region of Cusco, Peru. Andean Past 5.
Bauer, B. S., and C. Stanish. 1990. Killke and Killke-Related Pottery from Cuzco, Peru in the
Field Museum of Natural History. Fieldiana: Anthropology 15.
Bell, C. 1992. Ritual Theory, Ritual Practice. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
. 1997. Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Bengsston, L. 1988. "Well-Fitted Inca Stone Masonry: Systems and Variation in the Acquisition,
349

Preparation, and Transportation of Lithic Building Materials," in 46th International

Congress of Americanists. Amsterdam.
. 1991. "Grave Chambers at Kachiqhata and Markaqocha in the district of Ollantaytambo.
Cusco Department, Peru," in 47th International Congress of Americanists. New Orleans.
. 1998. Prehistoric stonework in the Peruvian Andes: A case study at Ollantaytambo.
GOTARC series B, No. 10, Ethnologiska studier. Goteborg: Ethnografiska museet.
Berdan, F. F. 1989. "Trade and Markets in Pre-Capitalist Societies," in Economic Anthropology.
Edited by S. Plattner, pp. 78-107. Palo Alto: Stanford University Press.
Bermann, M. 1997. Domestic Life and Vertical Integration in the Tiwanaku Heartland. Latin
American Antiquity 8:93-112.
Berry, B. J. L., and W. L. Garrison. 1958. The Functional Bases of Central Place Hierarchy.
Economic Geography 34:145-154.
Betanzos, J. de 1987[1551]. Suma y narracin de los Incas. Madrid: Ediciones Atlas.
. 1996[1551]. Narrative of the Incas. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Billman, B. R. 1999. "Reconstructing Prehistoric Political Economies and Cycles of Political
Power in the Moche Valley, Peru," in Settlement Pattern Studies in the Americas: Fifty
Years since Vir. Edited by B. R. Billman and G. M. Feinman, pp. 131-59. Washington
DC: Smithsonian Institution Press.
. 2002. Irrigation and the Origins of the Southern Moche State on the North Coast of Peru.
Latin American Antiquity 13:371-400.
Binford, L. R. 1965. "Archaeological systematics and the study of culture process," in
Contemporary Archaeology. Edited by M. Leone, pp. 125-132. Carbondale: University of
Southern Illinois.
Binford, M. W., and A. L. Kolata. 1996. "The Natural and Human Setting," in Tiwanaku and its
Hinterlands: Archaeology and Paleoecology of an Andean Civilization, vol. 1
Agroecology. Edited by A. L. Kolata, pp. 23-56. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution
Press.
Binford, M. W., A. L. Kolata, M. Brenner, J. W. Janusek, M. T. Seddon, M. Abbott, and J. H.
Curtis. 1997. Climate Variation and the Rise and Fall of an Andean Civilization.
Quarternary Research 47:235-248.
Blanton, R. E., G. M. Feinman, S. A. Kowalewski, and P. N. Peregrine. 1996. A Dual-Processual
Theory for the Evolution of Mesoamerican Civilization. Current Anthropology 37:1-14.
350

Bloch, M. 1989. Ritual, History and Power: Selected Papers in Anthropology. London: Athlone
Press.
Boas, F. 1916. "Tshimshian Mythology," in Thirty-first Annual Report of the Bureau of
American Ethnology to the Secretary of the Smithsonian Institution, 1909-1910, pp. 291037. Washington D.C.: United States Government Printing Office.
. 1966. Kwakiutl Ethnography. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Boric, D. 2003. 'Deep time' metaphor: Mnemonic and apotropaic practices at Lepenski Vir.
Journal of Social Archaeology 3:46-74.
Boteler Mock, S. Editor. 1998. The Sowing and the Dawning: Termination, Dedication, and
Transformation in the Archaeological and Ethnographic Record of Mesoamerica.
Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press.
Bourassa, S. C. 1991. The Aesthetics of Landscape. London: Belhaven Press.
Bourdieu, P. 1990. The Logic of Practice. Stanford: Stanford University Press.
Brading, D. A. 1991. The First America: The Spanish Monarchy, Creole Patriots, and the
Liberal State 1492-1867. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Braun, H. E. 2007. Juan de Mariana and Early Modern Spanish Political Thought. Burlington,
VT: Ashgate Publishing.
Bray, T. L. 2000. Inca Iconography: The Art of Empire in the Andes. Res 38:168-178.
. 2003. Inka Pottery as Culinary Equipment: Food, Feasting, and Gender in Imperial Design.
Latin American Antiquity 14:3-28.
Brumfiel, E. M. 1983. Aztec State Making: Ecology, Structure and the Origin of the State.
American Anthropologist 85.
. 1996. "Figurines and the Aztec State: Testing the Effectiveness of Ideological Domination,"
in Gender in Archaeology: Research in Gender and Practice. Edited by R. P. Wright, pp.
143-66. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.
. 1998. Huitzilopotchli's Conquest: Aztec Ideology in the Archaeological Record. Cambridge
Archaeological Journal 8:3-13.
. 2005. "Opting in and Opting out: Tula, Cholula, and Xaltocan," in Settlement, Subsistence,
and Social Complexity: Essays Honoring the Legacy of Jeffrey R. Parsons. Edited by R.
E. Blanton, pp. 63-88. Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology.
Brumfiel, E. M., and T. K. Earle. Editors. 1987. Specialization, Exchange, and Complex
351

Societies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Brundage, B. C. 1963. Empire of the Inca. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.
Buchanan, J. M., and G. Tullock. 1962. The Calculus of Consent: Logical Foundations of
Constitutional Democracy. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.
Burger, R., and L. Salazar. 2004. Machu Picchu: Unveiling the Mystery of the Incas. New
Haven: Yale University Press.
Burns, K. 1999. Colonial Habits: Convents and the Spiritual Economy of Cuzco, Peru. Durham:
Duke University Press.
Byrd Simpson, L., G. Griffiths, and W. Borah. 1956. Representative institutions in the Spanish
Empire of the Sixteenth Century. The Americas 12:223-257.
Cabello de Balboa, M. 1951[1586]. Miscelnea antrtica, una historia del Per antiguo. Lima:
Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Instituto de Etnologa.
Carneiro, R. L. 1970. A Theory of the Origin of the State. Science 169:733-738.
Casey, E. S. 1998. The Fate of Place: A Philosophical History. Berkeley: University of
California Press.
Cerrn-Palomino, R. 1998. El cantar de Inca Yupanqui y la lengua secreta de los incas. Revista
Andina 32:417-452.
Chapman, J. C. 1997. "Places as Timemarkers: The Social Construction of Prehistoric
Landscapes in Easter Hungary," in Landscape in Flux: Central and Eastern Europe in
Antiquity. Edited by J. C. Chapman and P. Dolukhanov, pp. 137-161. Oxford: Oxbow
Books.
Chatfield, M. 2007. From Inca to Spanish Colonial: Transitions in Ceramic Technology.
Unpublished PhD Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of California,
Santa Barbara.
. 2010. Tracing Firing Technology through Clay Properties in Cuzco, Peru. Journal of
Archaeological Science 37:727-736.
Chepstow-Lusty, A. J., B. S. Bauer, and M. Frogley. 2004. "Human Impact and Environmental
History of the Cuzco Region," in Ancient Cuzco: Heartland of the Inca. Edited by B. S.
Bauer, pp. 23-29. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Chepstow-Lusty, A. J., K. D. Bennett, V. R. Swisur, and A. Kendall. 1996. 4,000 years of human
impact and vegetation change in the central Peruvian Andes with events paralleling the
Maya record? Antiquity 70:824-833.
352

Childe, V. G. 1950. The Urban Revolution. Town Planning Review 21:3-17.

. 1956. Piecing Together the Past: the Interpretation of Archaeological Data. London:
Routledge and Kegan Paul.
Christaller, W. 1966[1933]. Central Places in Southern Germany. New York: Prentice Hall.
Cieza de Len, P. de 1971[1554]. La Cronica del Peru. Bogot: Ediciones de la Revista
Ximenez de Quesada.
. 1985[1554]. El seoro de los incas. Madrid: Historia 16.
Claessen, H. J. M. 1979. "The Balance of Power in Early States," in Political Anthropology: the
State of the Art. Edited by H. J. M. Claessen and S. L. Seaton, pp. 183-96. The Hague:
Mouton.
. 1984. The Internal Dynamics of the Early State. Current Anthropology 25:365-79.
Claessen, H. J. M., and P. Skalnk. Editors. 1978. The Early State. The Hague: Mouton
Publishers.
. Editors. 1981. The Study of the State. The Hague: Mouton.
Clark, J. E. 1995. Craft Specialization as an Archaeological Category. Research in Economic
Anthropology 16:267-294.
Clark, J. E., and W. J. Parry. 1990. Craft Specialization and Cultural Complexity. Research in
Economic Anthropology 12:289-346.
Clarke, D. L. 1968. Analytical Archaeology. London: Methuen.
. 1979. Analytical Archaeologist: Collected papers of David L. Clarke. London: Academic
Press.
Clendinnen, I. 1991. Aztecs: An Interpretation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Coben, L. 2006. "Other Cuzcos, Replicated Theaters of Inka Power," in Archaeology of
Performance: Theaters of Power, Community, and Politics. Edited by T. Inomata and L.
Coben. Lanham, MD: Altamira Press.
Cobo, B. de 1956[1653]. Historia del nuevo mundo, II. Biblioteca del Autores Espaoles, V. 92.
Madrid: Ediciones Atlas.
. 1990[1653]. Inca Religion and Customs. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Coe, W. R. 1959. Piedras Negras Archaeology: Artifacts, Caches, and Burials. Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Museum.
353

Cohn, B. S. 1996. Colonialism and its Forms of Knowledge: The Birtish in India. Princeton:
Princeton University Press.
Conkey, M. 1990. "Experimenting with Style in Archaeology: Some Historical and Theoretical
Issues," in The Uses of Style in Archaeology. Edited by M. Conkey and C. A. Hastorf, pp.
5-17. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Conlee, C. A. 2006. "Regeneration as Transformation: Postcollapse Society in Nasca, Per," in
After Collapse: The Regeneration of Complex Societies. Edited by G. M. Schwartz and J.
J. Nichols, pp. 99-113. Tucson: University of Arizona Press.
Connerton, P. 1989. How Societies Remember. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Conrad, G. W. 1981. Cultural Materialism, Split Inheritance, and the Expansion of Ancient
Peruviasn Empires. American Antiquity 46:2-26.
Corrigan, P., and D. Sayer. 1985. The Great Arch. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.
Costin, C. L. 1986. From Chiefdom to Empire State: Ceramic Economy among the Prehispanic
Wanka of Highland Peru, University of California.
. 1991. Craft Specialization: Issues Defining, Documenting, and Explaining the
Organization of Production. Archaeological Method and Theory.
Costin, C. L., and T. K. Earle. 1989. Status Distinction and Legitimation of Power as Reflected
in Changing patterns of Consumption in Late Prehispanic Peru. American Antiquity
54:691-714.
Coulson, C. 2003. Castles in Medieval Society: Fortresses in England, France, and Ireland in
the Central Middle Ages. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Costin, C. L., and M. B. Hagstrum. 1995. Standardization, Labor Investment, Skill, and the
Organization of Ceramic Production in Late Prehispanic Highland Peru. American
Antiquity 60:619-639.
Covey, R. A. 2003. The Vilcanota Valley (Peru): Inka State Formation and the Evolution of
Imperial Strategies. Unpublished PhD Dissertation, Department of Anthropology,
University of Michigan, Ann Arbor.
. 2006a. How the Incas Built their Heartland: State Formation and the Innovation of Imperial
Strategies in the Sacred Valley, Peru. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.
. 2006b. "Intermediate Elites in the Inka Heartland, A.D. 1000-1500," in Intermediate Elites in
Pre-Columbian States and Empires. Edited by C. M. Elson and R. A. Covey, pp. 112135. Tucson: University of Arizona Press.
354

. 2008. Multiregional Perspectives on the Archaeology of the Andes during the Late
Intermediate Period (c. A.D. 1000-1400). Journal of Archaeological Research 16:287338.
Cuba Pea, L. A. 2003. Informe de Investigacin Arqueolgico Wat'a - Warokondo. Cuzco:
Instituto Nacional de Cultura (INC).
. 2004. Informe de Investigacin Arqueolgico Wat'a - Warokondo. Cuzco: Instituto Nacional
de Cultura (INC).
Cummins, T. B. F. 2002. Toasts with the Inca: Andean Abstraction and Colonial Images on
Quero Vessels. Ann Arbor: Unievrsity of Michigan Press.
. 2007. "Queros, Aquillas, Uncus, and Chulpas: The Composition of Inka Artistic Expression
and Power," in Variations in the Expression of Inka Power, vol. 267- 312. Edited by R.
Burger, C. Morris, and R. Matos Mendieta. Washington DC: Dumbarton Oaks.
D'Altroy, T. N. 1987. Transitions in Power: Centralization of Wanka Political Organization
under Inka Rule. Ethnohistory 34:78-102.
. 1992. Provincial Power in the Inka Empire. Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press.
. 1994. "Public and Private Economy in the Inka Empire," in The Economic Anthropology of
the State. Edited by E. M. Brumfiel, pp. 169-221. New York: University Press of
America.
. 2001. "The Cultural Setting," in Empire and Domestic Economy. Edited by T. N. D'Altroy
and C. A. Hastorf, pp. 27-53. New York: Kluwer Academic.
. 2002. The Incas. Malden, Mass: Blackwell Publishers.
D'Altroy, T. N., and T. K. Earle. 1985. Staple Finance, Wealth Finance, and Storage in Inka
Political Eocnomy. Current Anthropology 26:187-206.
D'Altroy, T. N., and C. Hastorf. Editors. 2001. Empire and Domestic Economy. New York:
Kluwer Academic.
Davies, W. 2007. Acts of Giving: Individual, Community and Church in Tenth-Century Christian
Spain. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Dean, E. M. 2005. Ancestors, Mountains, Shrines, and Settlements: Late Intermediate Period
Landscapes of the Southern Vilcanota Valley, Peru. Unpublished PhD Dissertation,
Department of Anthropology, University of California, Berkeley.
DeBord, G. 1994. The Society of the Spectacle. New York: Verso.
355

DeMarrais, E. 2001. "The Architecture and Organization of Xauxa Settlements," in Empire and
Domestic Economy. Edited by T. N. D'Altroy and C. A. Hastorf, pp. 115-154. New York:
Kluwer Academic.
DeMarrais, E., L. J. Castillo, and T. K. Earle. 1996. Ideology, materialization, and power
strategies. Current Anthropology 37:15-31.
Dietler, M., and I. Herbich. 1998. "Habitus, techniques, style: An integrated approach to the
social understanding of material culture and boundaries," in The Archaeology of Social
Boundaries. Edited by M. Stark, pp. 232-263. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution
Press.
Dirks, N. B. 1994. "Ritual and resistance: Subversion as a social fact," in Culture/Power/History.
Edited by N. B. Dirks, G. Eley, and S. Ortner, pp. 483-503. Princeton: Princeton
University Press.
Dreyfus, H. L., and P. Rabinow. 1982. Michel Foucault: Beyond Structuralism and
Hermeneutics. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Durkheim, E. 1997[1933]. The Division of Labor in Society. New York: Free Press.
Dwyer, E. B. 1971. The Early Inca Occupation of the Valley of Cuzco, Peru. Unpublished PhD
Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of California, Berkeley.
Eagleton, T. 1991. Ideology: An Introduction. London: Verso.
Earle, T. K. 1997. How Chiefs Come to Power: The Political Economy in Prehistory. Stanford:
Stanford University Press.
. 2002. Bronze Age Economics: The Beginnings of Political Economies. Boulder, Co.:
Westview Press.
Earle, T. K., T. DAltroy, C. Hastorf, C. Scott, C. Costin, G. Russell, and E. Sandfeur. 1987.
Archaeological Field Research in the Upper Mantaro, Peru, 1982-1983: Investigations
of Inka Expansion and Exchange. Institute of Archaeology, University of California.
Eisenstadt, S. N. 1963. The Political Systems of Empires. Glencoe: Free Press.
Erickson, C. L. 1992. Prehistoric Landscape Management in the Andean Highlands: Raised Field
Agriculture and its Environmental Impact. Population and Environment 13:285-300.
. 1999. Neo-environmental determinism and agrarian 'collapse' in Andean prehistory. Antiquity
73:281.
Espada, D. M. J. d. l. 1965[1582]. "Relacion y descripcion de los pueblos del partido de
Otavalo," in Biblioteca de Autores Espaoles, V. 184, pp. 233-242. Madrid: Ediciones
356

Atlas.
Espinoza Soriano, W. 1973. La destruccin del imperio de los Incas. Lima: Retablo de Papel.
. Editor. 1978. Los Modos de Produccin en el Imperio Inca. Lima: El Mantaro.
Estete, M. de 1918[1535]. "Noticia del Per," in Boletn de la Sociedad Ecuatoriana de Estudios
Histricos Americanos, Tomo 1, No.3, pp. 312-335. Quito.
Estow, C. 1995. Pedro the Cruel of Castile, 1350-1369. Leiden: E.J. Brill.
Falconer, S. E., and S. H. Savage. 1995. Heartlands and Hinterlands: Alternative Trajectories of
Early Urbanization in Mesopotamia and the Southern Levant. American Antiquity 60:3758.
Farrington, I. S. 1992. Ritual Geography, Settlement Patterns and the Characterization of the
Provinces of the Inka Heartland. World Archaeology 23:368-385.
Farrington, I. S., and J. Zapata. 2003. "Nuevos canones de arquitectura inka: investigacioones en
el sitio de Tambokancha - Tumibamba, Jaquijahuana, Cuzco," in Identidad y
Transformacion en el Tawantinsuyu y en los Andea Coloniales: Perspectivas
Arqueologicas y Etnohistoricas, Segunda Parte, vol. 7. Edited by P. Kaulicke, G. Urton,
and I. Farrington, pp. 57-78. Lima: Boletin de Arqueologa PUCP.
Feinman, G. M. 1998. "Scale and Social Organization: Perspectives on the Archaic State," in
Archaic States. Edited by G. Feinman and J. Marcus, pp. 59-94. Santa Fe: School of
American Research Press.
Feinman, G. M., and J. Marcus. Editors. 1998. Archaic States. Santa Fe: School of American
Research.
Feinman, G. M., and L. M. Nicholas. 1990. At the Margins of the Monte Alban State: Settlement
Patterns in the Ejutla Valley, Oaxaca, Mexico. Latin American Antiquity 1:216-246.
. 2004. Archaeological Perspectives on Political Economies. Foundations of Archaeological
Inquiry. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press.
Flannery, K. V. 1972. The Cultural Evolution of Civilizations. Annual Review of Ecology and
Systematics 3:399-426.
. Editor. 1976. The Early Mesoamerican Village. New York: Academic Press.
. 1998. "The Ground Plans of Archaic States," in Archaic States. Edited by G. M. Feinman and
J. Marcus, pp. 15-57. Santa Fe: School of American Research Press.
Flannery, K. V., and J. Marcus. 1983. The Cloud People: Divergent Evolution of the Zapotec and
357

Mixtec Civilizations. New York: Academic Press.

Fleming, A. 1973. Tombs for the Living. Man 8:177-193.
Flemming, D. 1994. Guaman Poma, Hieronymo de Chavs, and the kings of Persia. Latin
American Indian Literatures 10.
Foucault, M. 1979a. On Governmentality. Ideology and Consciousness 6:5-21.
. 1979b. Discipline and Punish. New York: Random House.
. 1980. Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings 1972-1977. New York:
Pantheon.
. 2003. Society must be Defended: Lectures at the Collge de France. New York: Picador.
Fried, M. 1967. The Evolution of Political Society. New York: Random House.
Frye, K. L. 1997. "Political centralization in the Altiplano period in the southwestern Titicaca
Basin," in Archaeological Survey in the Juli-Desaguadero Region of Lake Titicaca Basin,
Southern Peru. Edited by C. Stanish, pp. 129-141. Chicago: Fieldiana: Anthropology,
Field Museum of Natural History.
Gade, D. W. 1975. Plants, Man, and Land in the Vilcanota Vallley of Peru. The Hague: Dr. W.
Junk B.V.
Garcilaso de la Vega, E. I. 1965[1605]. "Los Comentarios Reales de los Incas," in Obras
Completas, vol. Biblioteca de Autores Espaoles, v. 132-135. Edited by C. Sez de Santa
Mara. Madrid: Ediciones Atlas.
Gasparini, G., and L. Margolies. 1980. Inca Architecture. Bloomington: University of Indiana
Press.
Geertz, C. 1973. The Interpretation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books.
Gibaja Oviedo, A. M. 1982. "La ocupacion neoinca del valle de Urubamba," in Arqueologa de
Cuzco. Edited by I. Oberto, pp. 81-93. Cuzco: INC.
. 1984. "Requencia cultural de Ollantaytambo," in Current Archaeological Projects in the
Central Andes, BAR International Series 210. Edited by A. E. Kendall. Oxford: British
Archaeological Reports.
Giddens, A. 1979. Central Problems in Social Theory: Action, Structure, and Contradiction in
Social Analysis. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Gifford, C., and F. A. Acuto. 2002. "Space, place and Inka domination in Northwest Argentina,"
in Experimental Archaeology: replicating Past Objectgs, Behaviors, and Processes.
358

Edited by J. R. Mathieu. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports.

Glave, L. M., and M. I. Remy. 1983. Estructura agrara y vida rural en una regin andina:
Ollantaytambo entre los siglos XVI-XIX. Cusco, Peru: Centro de Estudios Rurales
Andinos Bartolom de las Casas.
Glowacki, M. 2002. "The Hauro Archaeological Site Complex: Rethinking the Huari Occupation
of Cuzco," in Andean Archaeology I: Variations in Sociopolitical Organization. Edited
by W. H. Isbell and H. Silverman, pp. 267-285. New York: Kluwer Academic.
Glowacki, M., and G. F. McEwan. 2001. Pikillacta, Huaro y la gran regin del Cuzco: Nuevas
interpretaciones de la ocupacin Wari de la Sierra Sur. Boletn de Arqueologa PUCP
5:31-49.
Godelier, M. 1977. "The concept of social and economic formation:' the Inca example," in
Perspectives in Marxist Anthropology. Edited by M. Godelier, pp. 63-69. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
. 1978. Infrastructures, Societies, and History. Current Anthropology 19:763-71.
. 1999. The Enigma of the Gift. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Gonzales Corrales, J. A. 1984. "La arquitectura y cermica Killke del Cuzco.," in Current
Archaeological Projects in the Central Andes: Some Approaches and Results. Edited by
A. Kendall, pp. 189-204. Oxford: Proceedings of the 44th International Conhress of
Americanists. BAR International Series 210. British Archaeological Reports.
Gonzlez Holgun, D. 1989[1608]. Vocabulario de la lengua general de todo el Per llamado
lengua Qguichua o del Inca. Lima: Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos.
Gordillo, G. 2002. Locations of hegemony: The making of places in the Tobas struggle for La
Comuna 1989-99. American Anthropologist 104:262-277.
. 2004. Landscapes of Devils: Tensions of Place and Memory in the Argentinean Chaco.
Durham: Duke University Press.
Gose, P. 1996. Past is a Lower Moiety: Diarchy, History, and Divine Kingship in the Inka
Empire. History and Anthropology 9:383-414.
. 2000. The State as a Chosen Woman: Brideservice and the Feeding of Tributaries in the Inka
Empire. American Anthropologist 102:84-97.
Gottdiener, M. 1985. The Social Production of Urban Space. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Gramsci, A. 1992. Prison Notebooks. New York: Columbia University Press.
359

Guaman Poma de Ayala, F. 1980[1615]. El primer nueva crnica y buen gobierno. Mexico City:
Siglo Veintiuno.
. 2005[1615]. Nueva Coronica y Buen Gobierno. Vol. Book 1. Lima: Fondo de Cultura
Economica.
Guillet, D. 1981. Land Tenure, Ecological Zone, and Agricultural Regime in the Central Andes.
American Ethnologist 8:139-156.
. 1987. Terracing and Irrigation in the Peruvian Highlands. Current Anthropology 28:409-430.
Haas, J. 2001. From Leaders to Rulers. New York: Kluwer Academic.
Hall, E. T. 1963. A System for the Notation of Proxemic Behavior. American Anthropologist
65:1003-1026.
. 1966. The Hidden Dimension. New York: Doubleday.
Halperin, R. H. 1989. Ecological versus Economic Anthropology: Changing 'Place' versus
Changing 'Hands'. Research in Economic Anthropology 11:15-41.
Haquehua Huaman, W., and R. Maqque Azorsa. 1996. Cermica de Cueva Moqo-Maras.
Unpublished Thesis, Facultad de Ciencias Sociales, Cusco: Universidad de San Antonio
Abad del Cusco.
Harvey, D. 1973. Social Justice and the City. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.
. 1989. The Condition of Postmodernity. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.
Hastorf, C. 1993. Agriculture and the Onset of Political Inequality before the Inka. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
. 2001. "Agricultural Production and Consumption," in Empire and Domestic Economy.
Edited by T. N. D'Altroy and C. Hastorf, pp. 155-78. New York: Kluwer Academic
Press.
. 2003. Andean luxury foods: special food for the ancestors, deities and the lite.
Antiquity:545-554.
Heffernan, K. 1989. Limatambo in Late Prehistory: Landscape Archaeology and Documentary
Images of Inca Presence in the Periphery of Cuzco. Unpublished PhD Dissertation,
Australian National University.
. 1996. Limatambo: Archaeology, History and the Regional Societies of Inca Cusco. BAR
International Series 644, Oxford: British Archaeological Reports.
Helms, M. 1979. Ancient Panama: Chiefs in Search of Power. Austin: University of Texas Press.
360

Hemming, J. 1970. The Conquest of the Incas. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.
Hemming, J., and E. Ranney. 1982. Monuments of the Incas. Boston: Little, Brown, and
Company.
Hiltunen, J., and G. F. McEwan. 2004. "Knowing the Inca Past," in Andean Archaeology. Edited
by H. Silverman, pp. 237-254. Malden: Blackwell.
Hiltunen, J. J. 1999. Ancient kings of Peru: The Reliability of the Chronicle of Fernando de
Montesinos, correlating the dynasty lists with current prehistoric periodization in the
Andes. Helsinki: Suomen Historiallinen Seura.
Hobsbawm, E., and T. Ranger. Editors. 1992. The Invention of Tradition. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Hollowell, J. L. 1987. Precision Cutting and Fitting of Stone in Prehistoric Andean Walls.
National Geographic Society.
Hyslop, J. 1984. The Inka Road System. New York: Academic Press.
. 1990. Inka Settlement Planning. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Isbell, B. J. 1978a. To Defend Ourselves: Ecology and Ritual in an Andean Village. Austin:
University of Texas Press.
Isbell, W. H. 1978b. "Environmental Perturbations and the Origin of the Andean State," in Social
Archaeology: Beyond Subsistence and Dating. Edited by C. Redman, M. J. Berman, E.
V. Curtin, W. T. Langhorne Jr, N. W. Versaggi, and J. C. Wanser, pp. 303-314. New
York: Academic Press.
. 1997. Mummies and Mortuary Monuments: A Post-Porcessual Prehistory of Andean Social
Organization. Austin: University of Texas Press.
. 2004. Mortuary Preferences: A Wari Culture Case Study from Middle Horizon Peru. Latin
American Antiquity 15:3-32.
Isbell, W. H., and G. F. McEwan. 1991. "A History of Huari Studies and Introduction to Current
Interpretations," in Huari Administrative Structure: Prehistoric Monumental Architecture
and State Government. Edited by W. H. I. a. G. F. McEwan, pp. 1-17. Washington DC:
Dumbarton Oaks.
Janusek, J. W. 2002. Out of Many, One: Style and Social Boundaries in Tiwanaku. Latin
American Antiquity 13:35-61.
Janusek, J. W., and A. L. Kolata. 2004. Top-down or Bottom-up: Rural Settlement and Raised
Field Agriculture in the Lake Titicaca Basin, Bolivia. Journal of Anthropological
361

Archaeology 23:404-430.
Jennings, J. 2004. La Chichera y El Parton: Chicha and the Energetics of Feasting in the
Prehistoric Andea. Archaeological Papers of the American Anthropological Association
14:241-259.
Jesuit, Anon. 1968[1594]. "Relacion de las costumbres antiguas de los naturales del Peru.," in
Biblioteca de Autores Espanoles, tomo 209, pp. 151-189. Madrid: Ediciones Atlas.
Johnson, A. W., and T. K. Earle. 1987. The Evolution of Human Societies: From Foraging
Group to Agrarian State. Palo Alto: Stanford University Press.
Johnson, G. A. 1977. Aspects of regional analysis in archaeology. Annual Review of
Anthropology 6:479-508.
Johnson, H. B. 1970. From Reconquest to Empire: The Iberian Background to Latin American
History. New York: Knopf.
Johnson, M. 2002. Behind the Castle Gate: From Medieval to Renaissance. London: Routledge.
Jones, S. 1997. The Archaeology of Ethnicity: Constructing Identities in the Past and Present.
London: Routledge.
Julien, C. 1982. "Inca Decimal Administration in the Lake Titicaca Region," in The Inca and
Aztec States 1400-1800: Anthropology and History. Edited by G. A. Collier, R. I.
Rosaldo, and J. D. Wirth, pp. 119-151. New York: Academic Press.
. 1983. Hatunqolla: A View of Inca Rule from the Lake Titicaca Region. Publications in
Anthropology, 15. Berkeley: University of California Press.
. 1988. How Inca Decimal Administration Worked. Ethnohistory 35:257-279.
. 2000. Reading Inca History. Iowa City: Unievrsity of Iowa Press.
. 2004. Las tumbas de Sacsahuaman y el estilo Cuzco-Inca. awpa Pacha 25-27:1-125.
Julien, D. 1993. Late pre-Inkaic ethnic groups in highland Peru: An archaeologicalethnohistorical model of the poltiical geography of the Cajamarca region. Latin American
Antiquity 4:246-273.
Keatinge, R. W. Editor. 1988. Peruvian Prehistory: An Overview of pre-Inca and Inca Society.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Kendall, A. E. 1976. Aspects of Inca Architecture. University of London, London.
. 1984. "Archaeological Investigations of Late Intermediate Period and Late Horizon Period at
Cusichaca, Peru," in Current Archaeological Projects in the Central Andes, BAR
362

International Series 210. Edited by A. Kendall, pp. 247-290. Oxford: British

Archaeological Reports.
. 1985. Aspects of Inca Architecture: Description, Function, and Chronology, parts 1 and 2.
BAR International Series 242. Oxford: British Archaeological Reports.
. 1988. "Inca Planning North of Cuzco between Anta and Machu Picchu and along the
Urubamba Valley," in Recent Studies in Precolumbian Archaeology. Edited by N. J.
Saunders and M. O. de. Oxford: BAR.
. 1994. Proyecto Arqueolgico Cusichaca, Cusco: Investigaciones arqueolgicas y de
rehabilitacin agrcola, tomo I. Lima: Southern Peru Copper Corporation.
. 1996. An Archaeological Perspective for Late Intermediate Period Inca Development.
Journal of the Steward Anthropological Society 24:121-156.
Kendall, A. E., R. Early, and B. Sillar. 1992. "Report on archaeological field season investigating
early Inca architecture at Juchuy Coscco (Q'aqya Qhawana) and Warq'ana, Province of
Calca, Department of Cuzco, Peru," in Ancient America: Contributions to New World
Archaeology. Edited by N. J. Saunders, pp. 189-256. Oxford: Oxbow Books.
Kertzer, D. 1988. Ritual, Politics, and Power. New Haven: Yale University Press.
Killion, T. W. 1990. Cultivation Intensity and Residential Site Structure: An
Ethnoarchaeological Examination of Peasant Agriculture in the Sierra de los Tuxtlas,
Veracruz, Mexico. Latin American Antiquity 1:191-215.
Kolata, A. L. 1992. "In the Realm of the Four Quarters," in America in 1492: The World of the
Indian Peoples Before the Arrival of Columbus. Edited by A. M. Josephy. New York:
Knopf.
. 1993a. The Tiwanaku: Portrait of and Andean Civilization. Cambridge: Blackwell.
. 1993b. "Understanding Tiwanaku: Conquest, Colonization, and Clientage in the South
Central Andes," in Latin American Horizons. Edited by D. S. Rice, pp. 193-224.
Washington DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collections.
. 1996. "Principles of Authority in the Native Andean State," in Structure, Knowledge, and
Representation in the Andes. Edited by G. Urton: Journal of the Steward Anthropological
Society 24: 61-84.
. Editor. 2003. Tiwanaku and its Hinterland: Archaeological and Paleoecological
Investigations of an Andean Civilization Volume 2: Urban and Rural Archaeology.
Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution Press.
Kolata, A. L., M. W. Binford, M. Abbott, J. W. Janusek, and M. T. Seddon. 1997. Climate
363

Variation and the Rise and Fall of an Andean Civilization. Quaternary Research 47:235248.
Kolata, A. L., and C. Ortloff. 1996. "Agroecological perspectives on the decline of the Tiwanaku
state," in Tiwanaku and its Hinterland: Archaeology and Paleoecology of an Andean
Civilization, Vol. 1. Edited by A. L. Kolata, pp. 181-201. Washington DC: Smithsonian
Institution Press.
Kosiba, S. B. 2005. Informe del Proyecto Arqueolgico de la Subregin de Wata. Primera
Temporada. Unpublished Research Report, Instituto Nacional de Cultura- Lima, Per.
. 2007. Informe del Proyecto Arqueolgico de la Subregin de Wata. Segunda Temporada.
Unpublished Research Report, Instituto Nacional de Cultura- Lima, Per.
Kosiba, S. B., and L. A. Cuba Pea. 2006. "Shifting from Local to Regional Landscapes of
Power: Inka Incorporation and Transformation of a Cusco Area Urban Settlement
(Wat'a)," in 71st Meetings of the Society of American Archaeologists. San Juan, PR.
Kus, S., and V. Raharijoana. 2000. House to Palace, Village to State: Scaling up Architecture
and Ideology. American Anthropologist 102:98-113.
La Lone, M. B. 1985. Indian Land Tenure in Southern Cuzco, Peru: From Inca to Colonial
Patterns. Unpublished PhD Dissertation, University of California.
Laclau, E., and C. Mouffe. 1985. Hegemony and Socialist Strategy: Toward a Radical
Democratic Politics. London: Verso.
Larson, B. 1998. Cochabamba, 1550-1900: Colonialism and Agrarian Transformation. Durham:
Duke University Press.
Lau, G. 2002. Feasting and Ancestor Veneration at Chinchawas, North Highlands of Ancash,
Peru. Latin American Antiquity 13:279-304.
Lavale, D. 1973. Structura y organizacin del habitat en los Andes centrales durante el perodo
Intermedio Tardo. Revista del Museo Nacional 39:91-116.
LeBlanc, C. J. 1981. Late Prehispanic Huanca Settlement Patterns in the Yanamarca Valley,
Peru, University of California, Los Angeles.
Lechtman, H. 1976. A Metallurgical Survey in the Peruvian Andes. Journal of Field
Archaeology 3:1-42.
. 1984. Andean Value Systems and the Development of Prehistoric Metallurgy. Technology
and Culture 25:1-36.
. 1988. "Traditions and Styles in Central Andean Metalworking," in The Beginning of the Use
364

of Metals and Alloys. Edited by R. Maddin, pp. 344-378. Cambridge: MIT Press.
LeCount, L. J. 1987. Towards defining and explaining functional variation in Sausa ceramics
from the Upper Mantaro Valley, Peru, University of California.
Lennstrom, H. A., and C. A. Hastorf. 1995. Interpretation in Context: Sampling and Analysis in
Paleoethnobotany. American Antiquity 60:702-721.
Levillier, R. 1935. Don Francisco de Toledo, Supremo Organizador del Per, Su Vida, Su Obra
(1515-1582). Tomo I. Buenos Aires: Espasa-Calpe.
. 1940. Don Francisco de Toledo, Supremo Organizador del Per, Su Vida, Su Obra (15151582). Tomo II: Sus informaciones sobre los incas (1570-1572). Buenos Aires: EspasaCalpe.
LeVine, T. Y. 1992. Inka Storage Systems. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.
Lincoln, B. 1994. Authority: Construction and Corrosion. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Losch, A. 1938. The Nature of Economic Regions. Southern Economic Journal 5:71-78.
Lumbreras, L. G. 1978. "Acerca de la aparicin del estado Inka," in Actas y trabajos del III
congreso peruano "El hombre y la cultura andina, vol. 1. Edited by M. M. Ramiro, pp.
101-109. Lima: Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos.
. 2001. Uhle y los asentamientos de Chincha en el siglo XVI. Revista del Museo Nacional
49:13-87.
Lunt, S. W. 1984. "An introduction to the pottery from the excavations at Cusichaca, Department
of Cuzco, Peru," in Current Archaeological Projects in the Central Andes: Some
Approaches and Results. Edited by A. E. Kendall, pp. 302-322. Oxford: British
Archaeological Reports.
. 1987. Inca and pre-Inca Pottery: Pottery from Cusichaca, Department of Cuzco, Peru.
Lupher, D. A. 2003. Romans in a New World: Classical Models in Sixteenth-Century Spanish
America. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.
MacCormack, S. 1993. Religion in the Andes: Vision and Imagination in Early Colonial Peru.
Princeton: Princeton University Press.
. 2001. "Cusco, another Rome?" in Empires: Perspectives from Archaeology and History.
Edited by S. E. Alcock, T. N. D'Altroy, K. D. Morrison, and C. M. Sinopoli, pp. 419-435.
New York: Cambridge University Press.
. 2007. On the Wings of Time: Rome, the Incas, Spain, and Peru. Princeton: Princeton
365

University Press.
MacLean, M. G. 1986. Sacred Land, Sacred Water: Inca Landscape Planning in the Cusco Area,
University of California.
Mann, M. 1977. States, Ancient and Modern. Archives Europenes de Sociologie 18.
. 1985. The Autonomous Power of the State: Its Origins, Mechanisms, and Results. European
Journal of Sociology 24.
. 1986. The Sources of Social Power Volume One: A History of Power from the Beginning to
A.D. 1760. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Mannheim, B. 1991. The Language of the Inka since the European Invasion. Austin: University
of Texas Press.
Marcus, J. 1993. Dynamic cycles of Mesoamerican states: Poltiical fluctuations in Mesoamerica.
National Geographic Research and Exploration 8:392-411.
. 1998. "The peaks and valleys of ancient states: An extension of the dynamic model," in
Archaic States. Edited by G. Feinman and J. Marcus, pp. 59-94. Santa Fe: School of
American Research Press.
. 2008. The Archaeological Evidence for Social Evolution. Annual Review of Anthropology
37:251-266.
Marcus, J., and G. M. Feinman. 1998. "Introduction," in Archaic States. Edited by G. M.
Feinman and J. Marcus, pp. 3-13. Santa Fe: School of American Research.
Marcus, J., and K. V. Flannery. 1996. Zapotec Civilization: How Urban Society Evolved in
Mexico's Oaxaca Valley. New York: Thames and Hudson.
Marshall, Y., and A. Maas. 1997. Dashing Dishes. World Archaeology 28:275-290.
McAnany, P. A. 1995. Living with the Ancestors: Kinship and Kingship in Ancient Maya
Society. Austin: University of Texas Press.
McEwan, C., and M. Van de Guchte. 1992. "Ancestral time and sacred space in Inca state ritual,"
in The Ancient Americas: Art from Sacred Landscapes. Edited by R. Townsend and A.
Aveni. Chicago: Art Institute of Chicago.
McEwan, G. F. 1987. The Middle Horizon in the Valley of Cuzco, Peru: The Impact of Wari
Occupation of the Lucre Basin. BAR International Series, 372. Oxford: British
Archaeological Reports.
. 1991. "Investigations at the Pikillacta Site: A Provincial Huari Center in the Valley of
366

Cuzco," in Huari Administrative Structures: Prehistoric Monumental Architecture and

State Government, vol. 93-119. Edited by W. H. Isbell and G. F. McEwan. Washington
DC: Dumbarton Oaks.
. 1996. Archaeological Investigations at Pikillacta, a Wari Site in Peru. Journal of Field
Archaeology 23:169-186.
. 1998. The Function of Niched Halls in Wari Architecture. Latin American Antiquity 9:68-86.
. 2005. Pikillacta: The Wari Empire in Cuzco. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press.
. 2006. The Incas: New Perspectives. Santa Barbara: ABC Clio.
McEwan, G. F., M. Chatfield, and A. Gibaja Oviedo. 2002. "The Archaeology of Inca Origins:
Excavations at Chokepukio, Cuzco, Peru," in Andean Archaeology 1: Variations of
Sociopolitical Organization. Edited by W. Isbell and H. Silverman, pp. 287-301. New
York: Kluwer Academic.
. 2008. Arquitectura monumental en al Cuzco del Periodo Intermedio Tardio: Evidencias de
continuidades en la reciprocidad ritual y el manejo de administrativo entre los horizontes
Medio y Tardio. Boletn de Arqueologa PUCP 9:257-280.
McEwan, G. F., A. Gibaja Oviedo, and M. Chatfield. 1995. Archaeology of the Chokepukio Site:
An Investigation of the Origin of the Inca Civilization in the Valley of Cuzco, Peru. A
Report of the 1994 Field Season. Tawantinsuyu 1:11-17.
Means, P. A. 1920. Indian legislation in Peru. The Hispanic American Historical Review 3:509534.
. 1928. Biblioteca Andina: Part One: The Chroniclers, or, the Writers of the Sixteenth and
Seventeenth Centuries Who Treated of the Pre-Hispanic History and Culture of the
Andean Countries. Transactions of the Conneticut Academy of Arts an Sciences 29:271525.
Meneses, G. 1992. Tradicin oral en el imperio de los incas: Historia, religin, teatro. San Jos,
Costa Rica: Editorial Departmento Ecumnico de Investigaciones.
Menzel, D. 1959. The Inca Occupation of the South Coast of Peru. Southwestern Journal of
Anthropology 15:125-142.
. 1964. Style and time in the Middle Horizon. awpa Pacha 2.
. 1966. The pottery of Chincha. awpa Pacha 4:77-144.
. 1976. Pottery Style and Society in Ancient Peru: Art as a Mirror of History in the Ica Valley,
1350-1570. Berkeley: University of California Press.
367

Meskell, L. 2003. "Memory's Materiality: Ancestral Presence, Commemorative Practice and

Disjunctive Locales," in Archaeologies of Memory. Edited by S. E. Alcock and R. Van
Dyke, pp. 34-55. Oxford: Blackwell.
Miller, G. R., and R. L. Burger. 1995. Our father the cayman, our dinner the llama: Animal
utilization at Chavin de Huantar, Peru. American Antiquity 60:421-458.
Mitchell, T. 1988. Colonising Egypt. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Mitchell, W. P. 1976. Irrigation and Community in the Central Peruvian Highlands. American
Anthropologist 78:25-44.
Montoya, R. 2007. Socialist Scenarios, Power, and State Formation in Sandinista Nicaragua.
American Ethnologist 34:71-90.
Moore, J. D. 1996. The Archaeology of Plazas and the Proxemics of Ritual. American
Anthropologist 98:789-802.
Moore, S. 1958. Power and Property in Inca Peru. New York: Columbia University Press.
Morris, C. 1967. Storage in Tawantinsuyu. Unpublished PhD Dissertation, Department of
Anthropology, University of Chicago.
. 1979. "Maize Beer in the Economics, Politics and Religion of the Inca Empire," in
Fermented Food Beverages in Nutrition. Edited by C. G. Gastineau, W. J. Darby, and T.
B. Turner, pp. 21-34. New York: Academic Press.
. 1982. "The Infrastructure of Inka Control in the Peruvian Central Highlands," in The Inca
and Aztec States 1400-1800: Anthropology and History. Edited by G. A. Collier, R. I.
Rosaldo, and J. D. Wirth, pp. 153-171. New York: Academic Press.
. 1985. "From Principles of Ecological Complementarity to the Organization and
Administration of Tawantinsuyu," in Andean Ecology and Civilization: An
Interdisciplinary Perspective on Andean Ecological Complementarity. Edited by S.
Masuda, I. Shimada, and C. Morris, pp. 477-490. Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press.
. 1992. "The Technology of Highland Inka Storage," in Inka Storage Systems. Edited by T. Y.
LeVine, pp. 237-58. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.
. 1993. "Value, Investment and Mobilization in the Inca Economy," in The Politics of
Production and Consumption. Edited by J. Henderson and P. Netherly, pp. 34-55. Ithaca:
Cornell University Press.
Morris, C., and R. A. Covey. 2003. La plaza central de Hunuco Pampa: espacio y
transformacin. Boletn de Arqueologa PUCP 7:133-149.
368

Morris, C., and J. I. Santillana. 2007. "The Inka Transformation of the Chincha Capital," in
Variations in the Expression of Inka Power. Edited by R. L. Burger, C. Morris, and R.
Matos Mendieta, pp. 135-164. Washington DC: Dumbarton Oaks.
Morris, C., and D. Thompson. 1985. Hunuco Pampa: An Inca City and its Hinterland. London:
Thames and Hudson.
Morris, E. 2006. ""Lo, Nobles Lament, the Poor Rejoice": State Formation in the Wake of Social
Flux," in After Collapse: The Regeneration of Complex Societies. Edited by G. M.
Schwartz and J. J. Nichols, pp. 58-71. Tucson: University of Arizona Press.
Morrison, K. D. 2001. "Coercion, Resistance, and Hierarchy: Local Processes and Imperial
Strategies in the Vijayanagara Empire," in Empires. Edited by S. E. Alcock, T. N.
D'Altroy, and K. D. Morrison, pp. 252-278. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Morrison, K. D., and M. T. Lycett. 1994. Centralized Power, Centralized Authority? Ideological
Claims and Archaeological Patterns. Asian Perspectives 32:312-53.
Mosley, M. E. 1992. The Incas and their Ancestors. New York: Thames and Hudson.
Murra, J. 1968. An Aymara Kingdom in 1567. Ethnohistory 15:115-151.
Murra, J. V. 1956. The Economic Organization of the Inca State. Unpublished PhD Dissertation,
Department of Anthropology, University of Chicago.
. 1973. "Rite and Crop in the Inca State," in Peoples and Cultures of Native South America.
Edited by D. Gross, pp. 377-394. New York: Natural History Press.
. 1980[1956]. The Economic Organization of the Inka State. Greenwich, Conn.: JAI Press.
. 1982. "The Mit'a Obligations of Ethnic Groups to the Inka State," in The Inka and Aztec
States 1400-1800: Anthropology and History. Edited by G. A. Collier, R. I. Rosaldo, and
J. D. Wirth, pp. 237-262. New York: Academic Press.
. 1984. "Andean Societies before 1532," in Cambridge History of Latin America, vol. 1, pp.
59-90. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
. 1989. "Cloth and its fucntion in the Inka state," in Cloth and Human Experience. Edited by
A. B. Weiner and J. Schneider, pp. 275-302. Washington DC: Smithsonian Institution
Press.
Nagengast, C. 1994. Violence, Terror, and the Crisis of the State. Annual Review of
Anthropology 23:109-136.
Nair, S. E. 2003. Of Remembrance and Forgetting: The Architecture of Chinchero, Peru from
Thupa Inka to the Spanish Occupation.
369

Netherly, P. 1984. The Management of Late Andean Irrigation Systems of the North Coast of
Peru. American Antiquity 49:227-254.
Niles, S. A. 1980. Pumamarca: A Late Intermediate Site near Ollantaytambo. awpa Pacha
18:49-62.
. 1987. Callachaca: Style and Status in an Inca Community. Iowa City: University of iowa
Press.
. 1987b. Niched Walls in Inca Design. Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians
46:277-285.
. 1988. Looking for "Lost" Inca Palaces. Expedition 30:56-64.
. 1993. "The Provinces in the Heartland:Stylistic Variation and Architectural Innovation Near
Inca Cuzco," in Provincial Inca: Archaeological and Ethnohistorical Assessment of the
Impact of the Inca State. Edited by M. A. Malpass, pp. 145-176. Iowa City: University of
Iowa Press.
. 1999. The Shape of Inca History: Narrative and Architecture in an Andean Empire. Iowa
City: University of Iowa Press.
Ogburn, D. 2005. Dynamic Display, Propaganda, and the Reinforcement of Provincial Power in
the Inca Empire. Archaeological Papers of the American Anthropological Association
14:225-239.
Ortloff, C., and A. Kolata. 1993. Climate and Collapse: Agro-ecological Perspectives on the
Decline of the Tiwanaku State. Journal of Archaeological Science 20:195-221.
Orton, C. 2000. Sampling in Archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Osborne, R. 1996. Greece in the Making, 1200-479 BC. London: Routledge.
Pachacuti Yamqui Salcamaugua, J. d. S. C. 1993[1600s]. Relacin de antiguedades deste reyno
del Piru. Cuzco: Centro de Estudios Rurales Andinos Bartolom de las Casas.
Pagden, A. 1995. Lords of All he World: Ideologies of Empire in Spain, Britain and France.
New Haven: Yale University Press.
Pardo, L. A. 1937. Ruinas Pre-Columbinas del Cuzco. Cuzco: Editora Cuzco Imperial.
. 1938. Hacia una nueva clasificacin del la cermica Cuzquea del antiguo imperio de los
Incas. Revista del Instituto Arqueolgico del Cusco 3:4-5.
Paredes, M. 2003. "Practicas funeraria incaicas en Sacsayhuaman: enterramientos ceremoniales y
complejo funerario," in Identidad y Transformacion en el Tawantinsuyu y en los Andea
370

Coloniales: Perspectivas Arqueologicas y Etnohistoricas, Segunda Parte, vol. 7. Edited

by G. Urton and I. Farrington, pp. 79-112. Lima: Boletin de Arqueologa PUCP.
Parsons, J. R., and C. M. Hastings. 1988. "The Late Intermediate Period," in Peruvian
Prehistory. Edited by R. W. Keatinge. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Parsons, J. R., C. M. Hastings, and M. M. Ramiro. 2000. Prehispanic Settlement Patterns in the
Upper Mantaro and Tarma Drainages, Junn, Peru. Volume 1: The TaramaChinchaycocha Region, Part 1. Ann Arbor: Memoirs of the Museum of Anthropology,
University of Michigan, 34.
Patterson, T. 1985a. Exploitation and Class Formation in the Inca State. Culture 5:35-42.
. 1985b. "An Andean Oracle under Inka Rule," in Recent Studies in Andean Prehistory and
Protohistory. Edited by P. Kvietok and D. Sandweiss, pp. 159-176. Ithaca: Cornell
University Latin American Studies Program.
Paxson, M. 2005. Solovyovo: The Story of Memory in a Russian Village. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
Paynter, R. W. 1983. "Expanding the Scope of Settlement Analysis," in Archaeological
Hammers and Theories. Edited by J. A. Moore and A. S. keene, pp. 233-275. New York:
Academic Press.
Pearsall, D. M. 1988. "Interpreting the Meaning of Macroremain Abundance: The Impact of
Source and Context," in Current Paleoethnobotany: Analytical Methods and Cultural
Interpretations. Edited by C. A. Hastorf and V. S. Popper, pp. 97-118. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press.
. 1989. Paleoethnobotany: A Handbook of Procedures. San Diego: Academic Press.
Pease Garca Yrigoyen, F. 1978. Del tawantinsuyu a la historia del Per. Lima: IEP.
. 1981. Continuidad y resistencia de lo andino. Allpanchis 17-18:105-118.
. 1982. "The Formation of Tawantinsuyu: Mechanisms of Colonization and Relationshp with
Ethnic Groups," in The Inca and Aztec States 1400-1800: Anthropology and History, vol.
173-198. Edited by G. A. Collier, R. I. Rosaldo, and J. D. Wirth. New York: Academic
Press.
. 1995. Las crnicas y los Andes. Lima: Pontifica Universidad Catlica del Per.
Pealosa, P. d. M. d. 1965[1570s]. "Relacin de la Provincia de los Pacajes," in Relaciones
Geogrficas de Indias. Edited by M. Jimnez de la Espada, pp. 334-341. Madrid:
Ediciones Atlas.
371

Pizarro, P. 1965[1571]. "Relacin del descubrimiento y conquista de los reinos del Per," in
Biblioteca de Autores Espaoles, V. 168, pp. 162-242. Madrid: Ediciones Atlas.
Platt, T. 1976. Espejos y maz: Temas de la estructura simblica andina. La Paz: Centro de
Investigacin y Promocin del Campesinado.
Plattner, S. 1989. "Markets and Marketplaces," in Economic Anthropology. Edited by S. Plattner,
pp. 171-208. Stanford: Stanford University Press.
Plog, S. 1976. "Relative efficiencies of sampling techniques for archaeological surveys," in The
Early Mesoamerican Village. Edited by K. V. Flannery, pp. 136-158. New York:
Academic Press.
Pocock, J. G. A. 2005. Barbarism and Religion: Barbarians, Savages and Empires. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Polo de Ondegardo, J. de 1916[1571]. "Informaciones acerca de la religion y gobierno de los
incas (1a. parte)," in Coleccion de Libros y Documentos Referentes a la Historia del
Peru, serie 1, tomo 3, pp. 3-208. Lima: Imprenta y Libreria Sanmarti y Ca.
Popper, V. S., and C. A. Hastorf. 1988. "Introduction," in Current Paleoethnobotany: Analytical
Methods and Cultural Interpretations. Edited by C. A. Hastorf and V. S. Popper, pp. 116. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Protzen, J.-P. 1985. Inca Quarrying and Stonecutting. JSAH XLIV:161-182.
. 1986. Inca Stonemasonry. Scientific American 254:94-105.
. 1991. Inca Architecture and Construction at Ollantaytambo. New York: Oxford University
Press.
. 2000. "Inca Architecture," in The Inca World: the Development of Precolumbian Peru, A.D.
1000-1534. Edited by L. Minelli, pp. 193-217. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press.
Quilter, J., and G. Urton. 2002. Narrative Threads: Acounting and Recounting in Andean Khipu.
Austin: University of Texas Press.
Radcliffe-Brown, A. R. R. 1958. "Preface," in African Political Systems. Edited by M. Fortes and
E. E. Evans-Pritchard.
Ramrez, S. E. 2005. To Feed and be Fed: The Cosmological Bases of Authority and Identity in
the Andes. Stanford: Stanford University Press.
Renfrew, C. 1976. "Megaliths, territories and populations," in Acculturation and Continuity in
Atlantic Europe. Edited by S. J. De Laet, pp. 198-220. Bruges: De Tempel.
372

Rice, D. S. Editor. 1993a. Latin American Horizons: A Symposium at Dumbarton Oaks.

Washington DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection.
. 1993b. "Late Intermediate Period Domestic Architecture and Residential Organization at La
Yaral," in Domestic Architecture, Ethnicity, and Complementarity in the South-Central
Andes. Edited by M. S. Aldenderfer, pp. 66-82. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press.
Rivera Dorado, M. 1971a. La cermica killke y la arqueologa de Cuzco (Per). Revista
Espaola Anthropologa Americana 6:85-124.
. 1971b. Diseos decorativos en la cermica killke. Revista del Museo Nacional 37:106-115.
. 1972. La cermica de Cancha-Cancha, Cuzco, Per. Revista Dominicana de Arqueologa y
Antropologa 2:36-49.
. 1973. Aspectos tipolgicos de la cermica Cuzquea del perodo Intermedio Tardo.
International Congress of Americanists (Rome-Genoa).
Rose, J. 1996. States of Fantasy. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Rosman, A., and P. G. Rubel. 1972. The Potlatch: A Structural Analysis. American
Anthropologist 74:658-671.
Rostworowski de Diez Canseco, M. 1953. Pachacutec Inca Yupanqui. Lima: Instituto de
Estudios Peruanos.
. 1960. Succession, Cooption of Kinship, and Royal Incest among the Inca. Southwestern
Journal of Anthropology 16:417-427.
. 1977. La estratificacin y el hatun curaca en el mundo andino. Histrica 1/2:249-286.
. 1978. "Una hiptesis sobre el surgimiento del estado inca," in Actas y trabajos del III
congreso peruano "El hombre y la cultura andina". Edited by M. M. Ramiro, pp. 89-100.
Lima: Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos.
. 1983. Estructuras andinas del poder: ideologa religiosa y poltica. Lima: Instituto de
Estudios Peruanos.
. 1988. La historia del Tawantinsuyu. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos.
. 1992. Pachacamac y el Seor de los Milagros: Una trayectoria Milenria. Lima: Instituto de
Estudios Peruanos.
. 1999a. El Seorio de Pachacamac: El Informe de Rodrigo Cantos de Andrade de 1573.
Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos.
. 1999b. History of the Inca Realm. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
373

Rowe, J. H. 1944. An Introduction to the Archaeology of Cuzco. Vol. 27. Papers of the Peabody
Museum of American Archaeology and Ethnology. Cambridge: Harvard University.
. 1945. Absolute Chronology in the Andean Area. American Antiquity 10:265-284.
. 1946. "Inca Culture at the Time of Spanish Conquest," in Handbook of South American
Indians, vol. 2: The Andean Civilizations. Edited by J. Steward, pp. 183-330. Washington
D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office.
. 1962. Stages and Periods in Archaeological Interpretation. Southwestern Journal of
Anthropology 18:40-54.
. 1967. What Kind of a Settlement was Inca Cuzco? awpa Pacha 5:59-76.
. 1982. "Inca Policies and Insitutions Relating to the Cultural Unification of the Empire," in
The Inca and Aztec States 1400-1800: Anthropology and History. Edited by G. A.
Collier, R. I. Rosaldo, and J. D. Wirth, pp. 93-118. New York: Academic Press.
. 1985. La constitucin Inca del Cuzco. Histrica 9:35-73.
Russell, N. 1999. "Symbolic Dimensions of Animals and Meat at Opovo, Yugoslavia," in
Material Symbols: Culture and Economy in Prehistory. Edited by J. E. Robb.
Carbondale: Center for Archaeological Investigations, Southern Illinois University.
Sahlins, M. 1985. Islands of History. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Salomon, F., J. Urioste, and F. d. Avila. 1991. The Huarochir Manuscript: A Testament of
Ancient and Colonial Andean Religion. Austin: University of Texas Press.
Salomon, F. L. 1985. "The Dynamic Potential of the Complementarity Concept," in Andean
Ecology an Civilization. Edited by S. Masuda, I. Shimada, and C. Morris, pp. 511-531.
Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press.
Sandefur, E. C. 2001. "Animal Husbandry and Meat Consumption," in Empire and Domestic
Economy. Edited by T. N. D'Altroy and C. Hastorf, pp. 179-202. New York: Kluwer
Academic.
Sanders, W. T., and B. J. Price. 1968. Mesoamerica: The Evolution of a Civilization. New York:
Random House.
Santillana, J. I. 1984. La Centinela: Un asentamiento Inka-Chincha. Rasgos arquitectnicos
estatales y locales. Arqueologa y Sociedad 10:14-32.
Santo Tomas, D. d. 1951[1560]. Grammatica, o Arte de la lengua general de los indios de los
reynos del Per. Lima: Instituto de Historia, Universidad Nacional Mayor de San
Marcos, Publicaciones del cuarto centenario.
374

Sarmiento de Gamboa, P. 2007[1572]. The History of the Incas. Austin: University of Texas
Press.
Sarmineto de Gamboa, P. 1965[1572]. Historia de los Incas. Biblioteca de Autores Espaoles v.
135. Madrid: Ediciones Atlas.
Scarborough, V. L. 1994. "Water management as a functio of locational and appropriational
movements and the case of the Classic Maya of Tikal," in From Political Economy to
Anthropology: Situating Economic Life in Past Societies. Edited by C. A. M. Duncan and
D. W. Tandy, pp. 105-121. Montreal: Black Rose Books.
. 1998. Ecology and Ritual: Water Management and the Maya. Latin American Antiquity
9:135-159.
Schaedel, R. P. 1978. "Early State of the Incas," in The Early State. Edited by H. J. M. Claesson
and P. Skalnk, pp. 289-320. The Hague: Mouton.
. 1987. "Control de agua y control social," in La heterodoxia recuperada en torno a Angel
Palerm. Edited by S. Glantz, pp. 126-164. Mexico: Fondo de Cultural Econmica.
. 1988. Andean World View: Hierarchy or Reciprocity, Regulation or Control? Current
Anthropology 29:768-775.
Schechter, J. M. 1979. The Inca cantar histrico: A lexico-historical elaboration on two cultural
themes. Ethnomusicology 23:191-204.
Schele, L., and D. Freidel. 1990. A Forest of Kings: The Untold Story of the Ancient Maya. New
York: William Morrow.
Schreiber, K. J. 1987. Conquest and Consolidation: A Comparison of the Wari and Inka
occupations of a Highland Peruvian Valley. American Antiquity 52:266-284.
. 1999. "Regional Approaches to the Study of Prehistoric Empires: Examples from Ayacucho
and Nasca, Peru," in Settlement Pattern Studies in the Americas: Fifty Years Since Vir.
Edited by B. R. Billman and G. Feinman, pp. 160-171. Washington DC: Smithsonian
Institution Press.
. 2005. "Imperial Agendas and Local Agency: Wari Colonial Strategies," in The Archaeology
of Colonial Encounters: Comparative Perspectives. Edited by G. J. Stein, pp. 237-262.
Santa Fe: School of American Research Press.
Scott, J. C. 1998. Seeing like a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition
have Failed. New Haven: Yale University Press.
Seidlmayer, S. 2003. "The First Intermediate Period (c. 2160-2055 B.C.)," in The Oxford History
of Ancient Egypt. Edited by I. Shaw, pp. 108-136. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
375

Service, E. 1962. Primitive Social Organization: An Evolutionary Perspective. New York:

Random House.
Service, E. R. 1975. Origins of the State and Civilization. New York: Morrow.
Sharma, C. L. 1993. Ruling Elites of Rajasthan: A Changing Profile. New Delhi: MD
Publications.
Sherbondy, J. 1992a. "Water ideology in Inca ethnogenesis," in Andean Cosmologies through
Time: Persistence and Emergence. Edited by R. Dover, K. Seibold, and J. McDowell, pp.
46-66. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Sherbondy, J. E. 1992b. "Water ideology in Inca ethnogenesis," in Andean Cosomologies
through Time: Persistence and Emergence. Edited by R. V. H. Dover, K. E. Seibold, and
J. H. McDowell, pp. 46-66. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Shimada, I. 1991. Pachacamac Archaeology: Retrospect and Prospect. Philadelphia: University
Museum Press, University of Pennsylvania.
. 2000. "Late Prehispanic Coastal States," in The Inca World: The Development of PreColumbian Peru, A.D. 1000-1534. Edited by L. Laurencich Minelli, pp. 49-110. Norman:
University of Oklahoma Press.
Sillar, B., and E. M. Dean. 2002. Identidad tnica bajo el dominio inca: una evaluacin
arqueolgica y etnohistrica de la repercusiones del estado Inka en el grupo tnico canas.
Boletn de Arqueologa PUCP 6:205-264.
Silverblatt, I. 1981. Moon, Sun, and Devil: Inca and Colonial Transformations of Andean
Gender Relations: Unpublished Doctoral Dissertation, University of Wisconsin.
. 1988. Imperial Dilemmas, the Politics of Kinship, and the Inca Reconstruction of History.
Comparative Studies in Society and History 30:83-102.
Sinopoli, C. M. 2003. The Political Economy of Craft Production: Crafting Empire in South
India, c. 1350-1650. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Sjoberg, G. 1960. The Preindustrial City Past and Present. New York: Free Press.
Smith, A. T. 1996. Imperial Archipelago: The Making of the Urartian Landscape in Southern
Transcaucasia. Unpublished PhD Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University
of Arizona.
. 2000. Rendering the Political Aesthetic: Political Legitimacy in Urartian Representations of
the Built Environment. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 19.
. 2001. The Limitations of Doxa: Agency and Subjectivity from and Archaeological Point of
376

View. Journal of Social Archaeology 1:155-171.

. 2003. The Political Landscape: Constellations of Authority in Early Complex Polities.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
. 2004. The End of the Essential Archaeological Subject. Archaeological Dialogues 11:1-20.
. 2006. "The Spectacular in Urartian Images of Performance," in Archaeology of Performance:
Theaters of Power, Community, and Politics. Edited by T. Inomata and L. Coben, pp.
103-134. New York: Altamira Press.
Smith, A. T., and N. David. 1995. The Production of Space and the House of Xidi Sukur.
Current Anthropology 36:441-471.
Smith, C. A. 1976. Regional Analysis. New York: Academic Press.
Smith, M. E. 1992. "Rhythms of Change in Postclassic Central Mexico: Archaeology,
Ethnohistory and the Braudelian Model," in Archaeology, Annales, and Ethnohistory.
Edited by A. B. Knapp, pp. 51-74. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Smith, M. L. 2005. Networks, Territories, and the Cartography of Ancient States. Annals of the
Association of American Geographers 95:832-849.
Snodgrass, A. M. 1971. The Dark Age of Greece. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.
Sols Diaz, F., and N. Olabazal. 1998. Arqueologa de Pachar: Una Introduccion a su Pasado.,
Universidad Nacional de San Antonio Abad del Cusco.
Someda, H. 2001. El Imperio de los Incas: Imagen del Tahuantinsuyu Creada por los Cronistas.
Lima: Pontifica Universidad Catlica del Per.
Spalding, K. 1984. Huarochir: An Andean Society under Inca and Spanish Rule. Palo Alto:
Stanford University Press.
Spector, J. D. 1970. Seed Analysis in Archaeology. Wisconsin Archaeologist 51:163-190.
Spencer, C. 1993. Human agency, biased transmission, and the cultural evolution of chiefly
authority. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 12:41-74.
. 1997. Evolutionary approaches in archaeology. Journal of Archaeological Research 5:209264.
Spencer, C. S., and E. M. Redmond. 2004. Primary State Formation in Mesoamerica. Annual
Review of Anthropology 33:173-199.
Stanish, C. 1985. Post-Tiwanaku Regional Economies in the Otora Valley, Southern Peru.
Unpublished PhD Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of Chicago.
377

. 1997. Nonmarket Imperialism in a Prehispanic Context: The Inca Occupation of the Titicaca
Basin. Latin American Antiquity 8:1-18.
. 2000. "Negotiating Rank in an Imperial State: Lake Titicaca Elite under Inca and Spanish
Control," in Hierarchies in Action: cui Bono? Edited by M. Diehl, pp. 317-339.
Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Center for Archaeological Investigations.
. 2001. Regional Research on the Inca. Journal of Archaeological Research 9:213-241.
. 2003a. "The Evolution of Chiefdoms: An Economic Anthropological Model," in
Archaeological Perspectives on Political Economies. Edited by G. Feinman and L.
Nicholas, pp. 7-24. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press.
. 2003b. Ancient Titicaca: The Evolution of Complex Society in Southern Peru and Northern
Bolivia. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Stanish, C., and B. S. Bauer. 2007. "Pilgrimage and the Geography of Power in the Inka
Empire," in Variations in the Expression of Inka Power, A Symposium at Dumbarton
Oaks, 18 and 19 October 1997. Edited by R. L. Burger, C. Morris, and R. Matos
Mendieta, pp. 45-84. Washington DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection.
Starn, O. 1991. Miising the Revolution: Anthropologists and the War in Peru. Cultural
Anthropology 6:63-91.
Stein, G. 1999. Rethinking World-Systems: Diasporas, Colonies and Interaction in Uruk
Mesopotamia. Tucson: University of Arizona Press.
Stein, G. J. Editor. 2005. The Archaeology of Colonial Encounters: Comparative Perspectives.
Santa Fe: School of American Research Press.
Stern, S. J. 1993. Peru's Indian Peoples and the Challenge of Spanish Conquest: Huamanga to
1640. Madison, WI.: University of Wisconsin Press.
Steward, J. 1955. Irrigation Civilizations: A Comparative Study. New York: McGraw-Hill.
Strathern, M. 1990. The Gender of the Gift. Los Angeles: University of California Press.
Swenson, E. R. 2004. Ritual and Power in the Urban Hinterland: Religious Pluralism and
Political Decentralization in Late Moche Jequetepeque, Peru. Unpublished PhD
Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of Chicago.
. 2007. Local Ideological Strategies and the Politics of Ritual Space in the Chim Empire.
Archaeological Dialogues 14:61-90.
Tello, J. C. 1940. Pachacamac. Chaski 1:1-4.
378

Thompson, L. G., and E. Mosley-Thompson. 1987. "Evidence of abrupt climate change during
the last 1500 years recorded in ice cores from the tropical Quelccaya ice cap," in Abrupt
Climatic Change: Evidence and Implications. Edited by W. H. Berger and L. D.
Labeyrie, pp. 99-110. Norwell, Mass.: D. Redel.
Thompson, L. G., E. Mosley-Thompson, J. F. Bolzan, and B. R. Koci. 1985. A 1500 year record
of tropical precipitation in the ice cores from the Quelccaya ice cap. Science 269:46-50.
Thompson, L. G., E. Mosley-Thompson, M. E. Davis, P.-N. Lin, K. A. Henderson, J. Cole-Dai,
J. F. Bolzan, and K.-B. Liu. 1995. Late glacial stage and Holocene tropical ice core
records from Huascaran, Peru. Science 269.
Tollefson, K. D. 1995. Potlatching and Political Organization Among the Northwest Coast
Indians. Ethnology 34:53-73.
Tomlinson, G. 2007. The Singing of the New World: Indigenous Voice int he Era of European
Contact. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Topic, J. R. 2003. From Stewards to Bureaucrats: Architecture and Information Flow at Chan
Chan, Peru. Latin American Antiquity 14:243-274.
Treacy, J. M. 1989. The Fields of Coporaque: Agricultural Terracing and Water Management in
the Colca Valley, Arequipa, Peru, University of Wisconsin.
Trouillot, M.-R. 1995. Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History. Boston: Beacon
Press.
Turner, V. 1982. From Ritual to Theatre: The Human Seriousness of Play. New York: PAJ
Publications.
Tylor, E. B. 1891. Primitive Culture: Researches into the Development of Mythology,
Philosophy, Religion, Language, Art, and Custom, Vol. 2. London: John Murray,
Albemarle Street.
Udehn, L. 2001. Methodological Individualism: Background, History, and Meaning. London:
Routledge.
Uhle, M. 1903. Pachacamac: Report of the William Pepper, M.D., LL. D., Peruvian Expedition
of 1896. Philadelphia: Department of Archaeology, The University of Pennsylvania.
Urton, G. 1990. The History of a Myth: Pacariqtambo and the Origin of the Inkas. Austin:
University of Texas Press.
. 1998. From Knots to Narratives: Reconstructing the Art of Historical Record Keeping in the
Andes from Spanish Transcriptions of Inka Khipus. Ethnohistory 45:409-438.
379

. 1999. Inca Myths. Austin: University of Texas Press.

. 2001. A Calendrical and Demographic Tomb Text from Northern Peru. Latin American
Antiquity 12:127-147.
. 2003. Signs of the Inka Khipu: Binary Coding in the Andean Knotted-String Records. Austin:
University of Texas Press.
Valcrcel, C. D. 1983. Tupac Amaru y la iglesia, Antologa. Lima: Comit Arquidiocesano del
Bicentario Tupac Amaru, Banco de los Andes, Edubanco.
Valcrcel, L. 1934. Los trabajos arqueolgicos en el Departamento de Cuzco. Sajsawaman
Reduscubierto I-II. Revista del Museo Nacional 3:3-36, 211-233.
. 1935. Los trabajos arqueolgicos en el Departamento de Cuzco. Sajsawaman Reduscubierto
III-IV. Revista del Museo Nacional 4:1-24, 161-203.
Valencia Zegarra, A., and A. Gibaja Oviedo. 1992. Machu Picchu: La investigacion y
conservacion del monumento arqueologico despues de Hiram Bingham. Cuzco:
Municipalidad de Qosqo.
Van Buren, M. 1996. Rethinking the Vertical Archipelago. American Anthropologist 98:338351.
Vera Robles, W. 2000. Informe Final de Tesis de las Investigaciones Arqueolgicas en Wata
Anta. Unpublished Thesis Universidad Nacional San Antonio Abad del Cusco
(UNSAAC).
Vining, R. 1955. A Description of Certain Spatial Aspects of an Economic System. Economic
Development and Cultural Change 3.
Wachtel, N. 1973. "La reciprocidad y el estado Inca: De Karl Polanyi a John V. Murra," in
Sociedad y ideologa. Edited by N. Wachtel, pp. 59-78. Lima: Instituto de Estudios
Peruanos.
Wallace, D. T. 1998. The Inca Compound at La Centinela, Chincha. Andean Past 5:9-33.
Wallerstein, I. M. 2000. The Essential Wallerstein. New York: New Press.
Watanabe, S. 2002. El reino de Cuismancu: orgenes y transformacin en el Tawantinsuyu.
Boletn de Arqueologa PUCP 6:107-136.
Weber, M. 1968[1921]. Economy and Society. New York: Bedminster Press.
Webster, G. 1990. Labor Control and Emergent Stratification in Prehistoric Europe. Current
Anthropology 31:337-366.
380

Webster, L., and M. Brown. 1997. The Transformation of the Roman World, A.D. 400-900.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
Wenke, R. J. 1980. Patterns in Prehistory. New York: Oxford University Press.
Wernke, S. A. 2003. An Archaeo-History of Andean Community and Landscape: The Late PreHispanic and Early Colonial Colca Valley, Peru. Unpublished PhD Dissertation,
Department of Anthropology, University of Wisconsin, Madison.
. 2006a. "Collagua 'Eco-logistics': Intermediate Elites and Hybrid Community Structures in
the Colca Valley, Peru," in Intermediate Elites in Pre-Columbian States and Empires.
Edited by C. M. Elson and R. A. Covey, pp. 175-211. Tucson: University of Arizona
Press.
. 2006b. The Politics of Community and Inka Statecraft in the Colca Valley, Peru. Latin
American Antiquity 17:177-208.
White, L. A. 1959. The Evolution of Culture. New York: McGraw-Hill.
Willey, G. R. 1991. Horizontal Integration and Regional Diversity: An Alternating Process in the
Rise of Civilizations. American Antiquity 56:197-215.
Williams, R. 1973. The Country and the City. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
. 1977. Marxism and Literature. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Winterhalder, B. 1993. "Rainfall and temperature patterning and predictability with respect to
water management in the central Andes of southern Peru," in Irrigation at High
Altitudes: The Social Organization of Water Control Systems in the Andes. Edited by W.
P. Mitchell, D. Guillet, and I. Bolin. Arlington, VA: Society for Latin American
Anthropology, American Anthropological Association.
Wise, K. 1993. "Late Intermediate Period Architecture of Lukurmata," in Domestic Architecture,
Ethnicity, and Complementarity in the South-Central Andes. Edited by M. S.
Aldenderfer, pp. 103-113. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press.
Wittfogel, K. 1955. "Developmental Aspects of Hydraulic Societies," in Irrigation Civilizations:
A Comparative Study. Edited by J. Steward, pp. 43-52. Washington DC: Pan American
Union.
. 1957. Oriental Despotism: A Comparative Study of Total Power. New Haven: Yale
University Press.
Wolf, E. R. 1999. Envisioning Power: Ideologies of Dominance and Crisis. Los Angeles:
University of California Press.
381

Wright, H. T. 1977. Recent Research on the Origin of the State. Annual Review of Anthropology
6:379-97.
Wright, H. T., and G. A. Johnson. 1975. Population, Exchange, and Early State Formation in
Southwestern Iran. American Anthropologist 77:267-289.
Wright, M. F., C. A. Hastorf, and H. A. Lennstrom. 2003. "Pre-Hispanic Agriculture and Plant
Use at Tiwanaku: Social and Political Implications," in Tiwanaku and its Hinterland:
Archaeology and Paleoecology of an Andean Civilization, Vol. 2 Urban and Rural
Archaeology. Edited by A. L. Kolata, pp. 384-403. Washington DC: Smithsonian
Institution Press.
Yaeger, J., and M. A. Canuto. 2000. "Introducing an archaology of communities," in The
Archaeology of Communities. Edited by M. A. Canuto and J. Yaeger, pp. 123-142. New
York: Routledge.
Yoffee, N. Editor. 2007. Negotiating the Past in the Past: Identity, Memory, and Landscape in
Archaeological Research. Tucson: University of Arizona Press.
Zimmerer, K. S. 1998. The Ecogeography of Andean Potatoes: Versatility in Farm Regions and
Fields Can Aid Sustainable Development. BioScience 48:445-454.
. 1999. Overlapping Patchworks of Mountain Agriculture in Peru and Bolivia: Toward a
Regional-Global Landscape Model. Human Ecology 27:135-165.
Zimmerman, A. F. 1938. Francisco de Toledo, Fifth Viceroy of Per, 1569-1581. Caldwell:
Caxton.
Zuidema, R. T. 1964. The Ceque System of Cuzco: The Social Organization of the Capital of the
Inca. Leiden: E.J. Brill.
. 1982. "Bureaucracy and Systematic Knowledge in Andean Civilization," in The Inca and
Aztec States, 1400-1800: Anthropology and History. Edited by R. I. R. G.A. Collier, and
J.D. Wirth, pp. 419-458. New York: Academic Press.
. 1983a. Hierarchy and Space in Incaic Social Organization. Ethnohistory 30:49-75.
. 1983b. The Lion in the City: Royal Symbols of Transition in Cuzco. Journal of Latin
American Lore 9:39-100.
. 1989a. "El Ushnu," in Reyes and Guerreros: Ensayos de Cultura Andina. Edited by R. T.
Zuidema, pp. 402-454. Lima: Fomciencias.
. 1989b. "The Moieties of Cusco," in The Attraction of Opposites: Thought and Society in the
Dualistic Mode. Edited by D. Mybury-Lewis and U. Almagor, pp. 255-275. Ann Arbor:
University of Michigan Press.
382

. 1990. Inca Civilization in Cuzco. Austin: University of Texas Press.

383