Celebrating Pachamama

Week 21 of the Quarantine

SAN MARTIN, ARGENTINA – Donald Trump says a “big number” is coming soon. Maybe tomorrow…

And he’ll make sure it’s a big number. One with lots of zeros behind it. Twelve of them, to be precise.

This past weekend, the locals in the Calchaquí Valley celebrated Pachamama. They were christianized by the Mercedarian Brothers in the 17th century. They celebrate Christmas and Easter, go to Mass, and respect Catholic rites.

But they’re not taking any chances. On the first day of August every year, they pay their respects to the ancient Indian deity, Pachamama… the goddess said to be the mother of the four key elements – Earth, Water, Sun, and Moon.

Our celebration of Pachamama at the ranch began well enough. We gathered at our foreman Gustavo’s house for dinner. The traditional corn soup, locro… many different cuts of grilled meat… salad and vegetables were served. And wine.

There were about 20 of us – men, women… mothers nursing… children playing in the irrigation canal, where water runs down to the pastures below…

Gustavo passed around a big pot, into which we were to offer part of our meal to Pachamama.

When the meal was over, we all marched up the hill. There, we found a stone plate, about two feet square, lightly covered with dirt and sand.

Gustavo knelt down, swept the dirt off the stone, and raised it. He dug down a little and pulled out several liquor bottles, some full, some empty.

Then, he lit a fire in a steel pot, burning aromatic herbs, and lowered the pot down into the hole. Then, each of us knelt down, took off our hats, and swept the smoke towards us, breathing in the fumes, communing with Pachamama herself.

This accomplished, Gustavo raised the pot back up out of the hole. Next, he lit cigarettes and pushed them into the sides of the hole.

This was followed by putting the food offerings… and bottles of alcohol… into the hole.

Each of us participated, drinking a potion from a cup passed around… or sipping maté from a silver straw. If any one of us had the coronavirus, we surely all have it now.

Next, we took turns serving the Pachamama – ladling in the food and pouring in the alcohol.

Your editor takes his turn serving Pachamama

And finally, when all the food and drink had been dumped into the hole, Gustavo filled it with dirt and carefully replaced the stone on top.

The party was just beginning.

Back at the house, we asked both Pachamama and our Christian god to bless Gustavo’s new car.

This done, your editor took advantage of a lull in the festivities to get back to chopping firewood.

The rest of the group, though, continued drinking and carrying on until 5 a.m.

The Only Way

But let us move from the sacred to the profane…

That is, when the zeros start rolling into camp… the hole gets so deep, you can’t climb out… and people realize they’ve been robbed…

And that’s when the gods leave town… and gold goes up.

As we pointed out yesterday, the federal government will likely transfer as much as $12 trillion this year.

The money has to come from somewhere. It can’t come from current income (there ain’t nearly enough)… or savings (who’s gonna lend to the biggest spendthrift in the world, with a current yield on the U.S. 10-year note of barely above 0.5%?).

The only possible source is larceny – stealing America’s capital. In other words, the only way the feds can “transfer” so much wealth is by mining the bedrock wealth of the country, leaving it with just heaps of debt, piled up like tailings on the edge of the hole.

Disappearing Wealth

That $12 trillion represents claim tickets on real wealth – houses, cars, factories, stocks, bonds… coats and hats… all across the country.

But the number of claim tickets increases far faster than the real wealth it aims to buy. The result? Inflation.

You’ll go to buy a car, and instead of the one claim ticket you have in your hand… you’ll need two.

Instead of the $5 you expected to pay for a cup of coffee… the barista will ask for $10…

And instead of the one Jackson and one Lincoln you had in your hand, ready to pay for your oil change at Jiffy Lube, you’ll be asked for two Jacksons and two Lincolns… and maybe, a Ulysses S. Grant, too.

And when people see their wealth disappearing… that is, when the Big Numbers get even bigger… they will find they have a lot more claim tickets than coats…

And they will look for protection… for something that can’t be readily “transferred” away from them… something that has always provided a refuge against profanity:

Gold.

Stay tuned.

Regards,

Bill