AYACUCHO, Peru-Dozens of
soldiers surrounded our plane as we
landed at the Ayacucho airport. After
passing a military checkpoint, we en- tered the airport where no civilians,
except passengers, are allowed. Air-
force and army personnel fill all air- line jobs, from ticket collectors to
porters. For the next few days. I saw
the military everywhere: on roadsides, in restaurants and hotels, outside
churches, in the town square. It was
difficult to imagine a more occupied
town.
The city of Ayacucho. nestled in a
valley high in the Andes Mountains. is home to thousands of Quechua-
speaking Indians. Traditionally ig- nored by the major centers of com-
merce and industry, Ayacucho lacks
the social services found in other parts
of the country and most of the depart-
ment’s inhabitants are peasants, cul-
tivating potatoes in a barren, inhospit-
able landscape.
In December 1982, the department,
or state, of Ayacucho was put under the control of a “political! military
command.” The local police had been
unable to beat back Sendero Luminoso
(Shining Path), the guerrilla move-
ment which surfaced in 1980, Sendero
destroyed police outposts throughout the department, and the police, in
turn, committed numerous abuses
against the civilian population, build-
ing support for the guerrillas. Since 1982, living conditions for
thousands of Ayacucho residents have sharply deteriorated. In pursuit of
Sendero and its suspected supporters, the military-the army, marines and
Sinchis, a special police counterin-
surgency force-has extended its rule into every town and village. Some
5.000 people have been murdered in
Ayacucho since 1983. Human rights
officials estimate that 2,000 people
have disappeared while the survivors
Ayacuchanas selling coca leaves In front of Sendero graffItI
6 REPORT ON ThE AMERICAS
The streets of Lima are a testimony
to Peruvians’ creative survival tactics.
Vendors sell an assortment of items
on virtually every corner while street-
theater groups, fire eaters and singers
perform for spare change. Crime has
also increased substantially, with iron
gates now surrounding most office
buildings. Sales of burglar alarms,
locks and weapons are booming.
Residents of the pueblos jdvenes,
or shantytowns, around Lima have
demonstrated a more organized, mili-
tant approach. Massive marches to
the government palace frequently pro-
test the lack of basic services and
the catastrophic economic situation.
Many neighborhood organizations
have formed communal kitchens, at-
tempting to provide affordable meals.
The shantytowns are also growing
rapidly, as extreme poverty in the
countryside forces thousands of cam-
pesinos to migrate to the cities. As the
residents become organized, they are
joining APRA, the Left and indepen-
dent organizations.
APRA also benefitted from the con-
solidation of the Left; anti-com-
munism is stronger in Peru than anti-
Aprism. Many conservatives admitted
relief at Garcia’s victory over Bar-
rantes. Along with mining towns and
the impoverished southern Andean
provinces, the shantytowns of Lima
have provided the greatest political
Ayacuchanas selling coca leaves in front of Sendero graffiti
support for the United Left coalition.
In light of the increased size and or-
ganization of these groups and the
Left’s efforts to overcome its own in-
ternal rifts, few doubt the political po-
tential of the United Left.
The new APRA government faces a
formidable task. The outgoing admin-
istration, which emphasized its loy-
alty to the international banking sys-
tem, has been in arrears for the last
year on payment of the interest on
Peru’s $13.6 billion debt. Meanwhile,
the working population has been
promised a respite from inflation and
unemployment. The conservative par-
Peru
Ayacucho Under Siege
BY NANCY PECKENHAM
AYACUCHO, Peru-Dozens of
soldiers surrounded our plane as we
landed at the Ayacucho airport. After
passing a military checkpoint, we en-
tered the airport where no civilians,
except passengers, are allowed. Air-
force and army personnel fill all air-
line jobs, from ticket collectors to
porters. For the next few days, I saw
the military everywhere: on roadsides,
in restaurants and hotels, outside
churches, in the town square. It was
difficult to imagine a more occupied
town.
The city of Ayacucho, nestled in a
valley high in the Andes Mountains,
is home to thousands of Quechua-
speaking Indians. Traditionally ig-
nored by the major centers of com-
merce and industry, Ayacucho lacks
the social services found in other parts
of the country and most of the depart-
ment’s inhabitants are peasants, cul-
tivating potatoes in a barren, inhospit-
able landscape.
In December 1982, the department,
or state, of Ayacucho was put under
the control of a “political/ military
ties will now play the role of the in-
transigent opposition while the possi-
bility of the Left and APRA combin-
ing forces looks dim. Despite these
difficulties for the next president, the
first and second place finish of the op-
position parties signifies an historic
advance of popular political move-
ments over Peru’s old-style “creole
liberalism.” It was not a vote of pro-
test, Alan Garcia said the day after the
polling, but a vote of hope.
Charles Walker writes for several
Peruvian newspapers and magazines.
command.” The local police had been
unable to beat back Sendero Luminoso
(Shining Path), the guerrilla move-
ment which surfaced in 1980. Sendero
destroyed police outposts throughout
the department, and the police, in
turn, committed numerous abuses
against the civilian population, build-
ing support for the guerrillas.
Since 1982, living conditions for
thousands of Ayacucho residents have
sharply deteriorated. In pursuit of
Sendero and its suspected supporters,
the military-the army, marines and
Sinchis, a special police counterin-
surgency force-has extended its rule
into every town and village. Some
5,000 people have been murdered in
Ayacucho since 1983. Human rights
officials estimate that 2,000 people
have disappeared while the survivors
REPORT ON THE AMERICAS
2
0
0 d
e
6Leonor Zarnora is the mayor of
Ayacucho. She won office in 1983.
campaigning on a platform that prom-
ised to check human rights abuses in the area. When I visited in mid-
March. I found Dr. Zamora at her
desk, sifting through piles of legal documents. ‘Look at the number of
documents that have come to me
today. Zamora said. ‘We thought.
we had faith, that when the holy Pope
came here to Ayacucho last February.
things would calm down. But they
continue kidnapping, they continue
disappearing people. At times every- thing looks worse than before.” A
professor from Lima, Zamora has
moved her four daughters back to the
safety of the capital. Outside her of-
lice, a group of 30 Quechua women,
dressed in black, patiently waited to
seek her help in their search for disap-
peared relatives and friends.
During the next few days I ran into
these women, and others like them,
all over town. They were in the court
rooms, at the district attorney’s office, in the offices of the Ayacucho
Lawyer’s Association, carrying the
voluminous stacks of legal documents
required to investigate the disappear- ance of a family member. Few can read the documents written in
Spanish. still fewer ever receive a
reply. Pablo Rojas, director of the Na-
tional Human Rights Commission,
has witnessed the effect of this fruit-
less pilgrimage. “These people go knocking from door to door, asking
for bodies if the victim is dead. But no
one can solve their problem because,
in practice, no one can exercise jus-
tice. From frustration, many families
join Sendero Luininoso.”
When martial law was declared in
1982, it encompassed seven provinces
(counties) in the department of
Ayacucho. Today political/military commands rule in 25 provinces in six
departments and observers predict that
the model will spread.
“In the areas under political/mili-
tary control, not even Peru’s attorney
general is respected. Judicial power is
not respected and state institutions
have little value,” explained Pablo
Rojas. “The only institution that has
control is the political/military com-
mand.” Following the women of the
Ayacucho Committee of Families of
the Kidnapped, Detained and Disap-
peared leads one through all the doors
of civilian power. The lawyers, dis-
trict attorneys and judges supporting
their cause pursue their cases as far as
they can-to the military’s doorstep. Strong evidence implicating the se-
curity forces in deaths or disappear-
ances has been presented, but the mil-
itary refuses to investigate, or to be
held accountable for any of its ac-
tions. In 1984 the military ceased is-
suing reports on its actions against
Sendero. In the previous two years,
news accounts coming out of Aya-
cucho were primarily based on official
press releases as the military had vir-
tually sealed the region off from the
media. Now the armed forces do not
even attempt to get out their side of
the story, and the head of the political/
military command, Colonel Wilfredo
Mon. refused numerous requests for
an interview.
“Friendly Fire”
We had a taste of how the armed
forces operate during our stay in Ayacucho. in an incident that re-
flected the military’s unaccountability
in innumerable cases of violence in
the area.
On March 10, two ca?npesinos
came down to the Ayacucho city of
Huanta to report the discovery of a
mass grave on a hillside outside town.
A local reporter investigated and filed
a story. The next day we joined a
dozen local journalists, the judge and
the district attorney as they formed a
convoy under military protection to unearth the grave site. The site ap-
peared to be a cave that had been
dynamited to close up the opening. After two hours of digging, no bodies were discovered. As the
marine commander from Huanta,
Luls Gavidia Balarezo, harassed the
local Peruvian journalists, calling
them sensationalists trying to defame
the military, shots rang out. “It’s Sen-
dero Luminoso!” shouted Gavidia.
“Everyone on the ground.”
A column of soldiers ran off toward
the shots, while others sent rounds of
machine-gun fire down the hillside.
Twenty minutes later, all firing stopped. No one was hurt, although
our taxi was completely destroyed by “friendly fire.”
“Why did Sendero attack us?” 1 ask-
MAY/JUNE 1985 7
have often fled to the cities.* Recently
the government has expanded its use
of paramilitary peasant patrols in the
war against Se,zdero. frequently re-
settling indigenous communities to
areas under military control.
Tracing the Disappeared
Model of Control Spreading
Imprisoned Senderlatas contInue theIr study of Mao Ze-dong
have often fled to the cities.* Recently
the government has expanded its use
of paramilitary peasant patrols in the
war against Sendero, frequently re-
settling indigenous communities to
areas under military control.
Tracing the Disappeared
Leonor Zamora is the mayor of
Ayacucho. She won office in 1983,
campaigning on a platform that prom-
ised to check human rights abuses in
the area. When I visited in mid-
March, I found Dr. Zamora at her
desk, sifting through piles of legal
documents. “Look at the number of
documents that have come to me
today,” Zamora said. “We thought,
we had faith, that when the holy Pope
came here to Ayacucho last February,
things would calm down. But they
continue kidnapping, they continue
disappearing people. At times every-
thing looks worse than before.” A
professor from Lima, Zamora has
moved her four daughters back to the
safety of the capital. Outside her of-
fice, a group of 30 Quechua women,
dressed in black, patiently waited to
seek her help in their search for disap-
peared relatives and friends.
During the next few days I ran into
these women, and others like them,
all over town. They were in the court
rooms, at the district attorney’s office,
in the offices of the Ayacucho
Lawyer’s Association, carrying the
voluminous stacks of legal documents
required to investigate the disappear-
ance of a family member. Few can
read the documents written in
Spanish; still fewer ever receive a
reply.
Pablo Rojas, director of the Na-
tional Human Rights Commission,
has witnessed the effect of this fruit-
less pilgrimage. “These people go
knocking from door to door, asking
for bodies if the victim is dead. But no
one can solve their problem because,
in practice, no one can exercise jus-
tice. From frustration, many families
join Sendero Luminoso.”
Model of Control Spreading
When martial law was declared in
1982, it encompassed seven provinces
(counties) in the department of
Ayacucho. Today political/military
commands rule in 25 provinces in six
departments and observers predict that
the model will spread.
“In the areas under political/mili-
tary control, not even Peru’s attorney
general is respected. Judicial power is
not respected and state institutions
have little value,” explained Pablo
Rojas. “The only institution that has
control is the political/military com-
mand.”
Following the women of the
Ayacucho Committee of Families of
the Kidnapped, Detained and Disap-
peared leads one through all the doors
Imprisoned Senderistas continue their study of Mao Ze-dong
of civilian power. The lawyers, dis-
trict attorneys and judges supporting
their cause pursue their cases as far as
they can-to the military’s doorstep.
Strong evidence implicating the se-
curity forces in deaths or disappear-
ances has been presented, but the mil-
itary refuses to investigate, or to be
held accountable for any of its ac-
tions. In 1984 the military ceased is-
suing reports on its actions against
Sendero. In the previous two years,
news accounts coming out of Aya-
cucho were primarily based on official
press releases as the military had vir-
tually sealed the region off from the
media. Now the armed forces do not
even attempt to get out their side of
the story, and the head of the political/
military command, Colonel Wilfredo
Mori, refused numerous requests for
an interview.
“Friendly Fire”
We had a taste of how the armed
forces operate during our stay in
Ayacucho, in an incident that re-
flected the military’s unaccountability
in innumerable cases of violence in
the area.
On March 10, two campesinos
came down to the Ayacucho city of
Huanta to report the discovery of a
mass grave on a hillside outside town.
A local reporter investigated and filed
a story. The next day we joined a
dozen local journalists, the judge and
the district attorney as they formed a
convoy under military protection to
unearth the grave site. The site ap-
peared to be a cave that had been
dynamited to close up the opening.
After two hours of digging, no
bodies were discovered. As the
marine commander from Huanta, Luis Gavidia Balarezo, harassed the
local Peruvian journalists, calling
them sensationalists trying to defame
the military, shots rang out. “It’s Sen-
dero Luminoso!” shouted Gavidia.
“Everyone on the ground.”
A column of soldiers ran off toward
the shots, while others sent rounds of
machine-gun fire down the hillside.
Twenty minutes later, all firing
stopped. No one was hurt, although
our taxi was completely destroyed by
“friendly fire.”
“Why did Sendero attack us?” I ask-
MAY/JUNE 1985 7ed my companions as we were swept away under military escort. A local
journalist shrugged, and remarked that perhaps it was not the guerrillas,
who are well known for attacking only by night. “It could have been the
marines who wanted to get us away from the mass grave,” he said. Re-
turning to Huanta, the judge closed
the investigation into the grave with-
out issuing findings.
Everyone present during the attack agrees that the marines were the only
ones logistically capable of staging the incident, though we have no con- clusive evidence proving them re-
sponsible. Like thousands of local re-
sidents, we were powerless in the face
of the political/military command. Dr. EfraIn Morote Best is a well-
known figure in Ayacucho. former
dean of the Ayacucho Association of Lawyers and of the University of
Huamanga. He is also the father of a
Sendero leader, Osman Morote, and a
frequent defender of the right of Peru- vians to revolt against the govern- ment. “There is an old saying,” ex-
plained Morote in an interview in his
office in Ayacucho, “When all the
doors of reason and of justice close, the doors of violence open. When
state violence is permanent, the vio- lence which is the response of the
people will be permanent. Sendero’s
best ally is the violence from the
state.”
Young and Quechua
During my final days in Peru. back
amid the sophistication of Lima, the
violence engendered by the “dirty war” in Ayacucho surfaced on the
outskirts of the city. On March 21, two workers were detained by the
police as they passed the scene of a
common crime. Photos show the men, Carlos Honda and Santos Tenorio, being taken into the police station.
Two days later, (heir bullet-riddled
bodies turned up at the morgue, show-
ing signs of torture. Santos Tenorio’s sister, Marcelina, believes her brother was killed be-
cause he was young. from Ayacucho
and spoke Quechua. The police ac- cused her of being a terrorist, and as
friends and relatives stood wake over
the body. the police and soldiers burst
in and searched the house, shouting:
Where are the arms? Where did you
hide the dynamite?”
The Tenorio family are workers
who fled Ayacucho to escape the vio-
lence. But they found greater tragedy in Lima and today curse the govern-
ment that allowed Santos to be mur-
dered. Since the government believes
Indian immigrants are responsible for
urban bombings and blackouts, Aya-
cuchanos are often subjected to
harassment and surveillance.
Looking for more clues about Sen-
dero Lu,ninoso. I went down to the
port of Lima where every Saturday and Sunday morning the families of
political prisoners are ferried out to
the island fortress prison. El Froton.
There are some 400 political prisoners in El Froton, avowed members of
Sendero Lunzinoso, who have instal-
led a sub-society at the prison. A Sen-
dero flag flies over the jail yard and
inmates gather daily to recite chants in
praise of their leader, Abimael Guz-
man. Senderistas consider Guzman, a
former university philosophy profes- sor, fourth in line after Marx, Lenin
and Mao. As the families awaited the boat
under the watchful eyes of uniformed
and non-uniformed security agents, the group broke into chants for the benefit of the international press:
‘Massacres, torture, assassinations
will be avenged by the armed people.
Long live the people’s armed strug-
gle!” Each chant was punctuated by
rapid hand-clapping, giving an air of
ritual to the performance. The security personnel stood quietly on the
sidelines as a woman denounced the
‘reactionary government” and
praised “popular war.”
“The People Feel Defrauded”
“The parties that have collaborated
[with President Belatlndel are going to receive a serious reversal,” predict-
ed conservative novelist Mario Vargas
Llosa in an interview several days be-
fore Peru’s April 14 general election.
ISee accompanying article.] “The people feel defrauded by what has
happened in the past four years be-
cause democracy has not been able to
create social and economic progress.”
Vargas Llosa is closely aligned with
the ruling party. As they await their new president,
we found Peruvians keenly aware of
the overwhelming problems facing their country. Some foretell the in-
evitability of revolutionary change; others continue to challenge the gov- ernment o remedy its abuses; and a
diminishing group strain to verify the
strength of an emerging democracy.
Nancy Peckenham spent a month in
Peru as associate producer on a
documentary on human rights for
European television.
See “Peru-‘Dirty War’ in Ayacu-
cho,” NACLA Report on the Ameri-
cas (May-June 1983) and “Peru-
Amnesty Speaks Out,” (January-Feb-
ruary 1984).
SecurIty checks have become commonplace in Ayacucho
8 REPORT ON ThE AMERICAS
Security checks have become commonplace In Ayacucho
ed my companions as we were swept
away under military escort. A local
journalist shrugged, and remarked
that perhaps it was not the guerrillas,
who are well known for attacking only
by night. “It could have been the
marines who wanted to get us away
from the mass grave.” he said. Re-
turning to Huanta, the judge closed
the investigation into the grave with-
out issuing findings.
Everyone present during the attack
agrees that the marines were the only
ones logistically capable of staging
the incident, though we have no con-
clusive evidence proving them re-
sponsible. Like thousands of local re-
sidents, we were powerless in the face
of the political/military command.
Dr. Efrain Morote Best is a well-
known figure in Ayacucho. former
dean of the Ayacucho Association of
Lawyers and of the University of
Huamanga. He is also the father of a
Sendero leader. Osman Morote, and a
frequent defender of the right of Peru-
vians to revolt against the govern-
ment. “There is an old saying,” ex-
plained Morote in an interview in his
office in Ayacucho, “When all the
doors of reason and of justice close,
the doors of violence open. When
state violence is permanent, the vio-
lence which is the response of the
people will be permanent. Sendero’s
best ally is the violence from the
state.”
Young and Quechua
During my final days in Peru. back
amid the sophistication of Lima, the
violence engendered by the “dirty
war” in Ayacucho surfaced on the
outskirts of the city. On March 21,
two workers were detained by the
police as they passed the scene of a
common crime. Photos show the men,
Carlos Honda and Santos Tenorio,
being taken into the police station.
Two days later, their bullet-riddled
bodies turned up at the morgue, show-
ing signs of torture.
Santos Tenorio’s sister, Marcelina,
believes her brother was killed be-
cause he was young, from Ayacucho
and spoke Quechua. The police ac-
cused her of being a terrorist, and as
friends and relatives stood wake over
the body, the police and soldiers burst
in and searched the house, shouting:
“Where are the arms? Where did you
hide the dynamite?”
The Tenorio family are workers
who fled Ayacucho to escape the vio-
lence. But they found greater tragedy
in Lima and today curse the govern-
ment that allowed Santos to be mur-
dered. Since the government believes
Indian immigrants are responsible for
urban bombings and blackouts, Aya-
cuchanos are often subjected to
harassment and surveillance.
Looking for more clues about Sen-
dero Luminoso. I went down to the
port of Lima where every Saturday
and Sunday morning the families of
political prisoners are ferried out to
the island fortress prison, El Frot6n.
There are some 400 political prisoners
in El Frot6n, avowed members of
“I
Nancy Peckenhanl spent a month in
Peru as associate producer on a
documentary on huan, rights for
European television.
*See “Peru-‘Dirty War’ in Ayacu-
cho,” NACLA Report on the Ameri-
cas (May-June 1983) and “Peru-
Amnesty Speaks Out,” (January-Feb-
ruary 1984).
REPORT ON THE AMERICAS
Sendero Luminoso. who have instal-
led a sub-society at the prison. A Sen-
dero flag flies over the jail yard and
inmates gather daily to recite chants in
praise of their leader. Abimael Guz-
min. Senderistas consider GuzmAn. a
former university philosophy profes-
sor, fourth in line after Marx, Lenin
and Mao.
As the families awaited the boat
under the watchful eyes of uniformed
and non-uniformed security agents.
the group broke into chants for the
benefit of the international press:
“Massacres, torture, assassinations
will be avenged by the armed people.
Long live the people’s armed strug-
gle!” Each chant was punctuated by
rapid hand-clapping, giving an air of
ritual to the performance. The security
personnel stood quietly on the
sidelines as a woman denounced the
” ‘reactionary government” and
praised “popular war.”
“The People Feel Defrauded”
“The parties that have collaborated
[with President Belatindel are going to
receive a serious reversal,” predict-
ed conservative novelist Mario Vargas
Llosa in an interview several days be-
fore Peru’s April 14 general election.
[See accompanying article.] “The
people feel defrauded by what has
happened in the past four years be-
cause democracy has not been able to
create social and economic progress.”
Vargas Llosa is closely aligned with
the ruling party.
As they await their new president,
we found Peruvians keenly aware of
the overwhelming problems facing
their country. Some foretell the in-
evitability of revolutionary change;
others continue to challenge the gov-
ernment to remedy its abuses; and a
diminishing group strain to verify the
strength of an emerging democracy.
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