The woman who left
It isn’t the same to hear about it as it is to see it. And to drink it. We knew the news before we got to Los Aquijes, but the pain throbbed against our nerves when we reached her room, the scene
full of silence and absence.
We were late to our appointment with the lady of our national firewater—one week after; we had arranged to meet, but she was no longer with us. Rosa Bravo, matriarch of our Pisco, loved like few others, mother of eight children, widow and unbreakable orphan, passed away on Sunday, May 8th, four days after turning 75.
It was a mother’s day that will not be erased from her children’s faces. Herlinda Nieves, the oldest, is the only one who was able to speak. The rest spoke with their eyes, with their pain visible. “The only homage we can do for our mother is to continue producing her Pisco, and ensure that it has international recognition.”
Not so long ago, Saturnino Pisco, produced in the Carmen Bodega that she inherited from her father (Saturnino Bravo), won a gold medal in the Brussels Competition for the pure Torontel Pisco. It filled her with illusions and plans, such as traveling to London, carrying with her the star she distilled.
It isn’t the same to hear about it as it is to see it. And to drink it. We knew the news before we got to Los Aquijes, but the pain throbbed against our nerves when we reached her room, the scene
full of silence and absence. We were late to our appointment with the lady of our national firewater—one week after; we had arranged to meet, but she was no longer with us. Rosa Bravo, matriarch of our Pisco, loved like few others, mother of eight children, widow and unbreakable orphan, passed away on Sunday, May 8th, four days after turning 75.
It was a mother’s day that will not be erased from her children’s faces. Herlinda Nieves, the oldest, is the only one who was able to speak. The rest spoke with their eyes, with their pain visible. “The only homage we can do for our mother is to continue producing her Pisco, and ensure that it has international recognition.”
Not so long ago, Saturnino Pisco, produced in the Carmen Bodega that she inherited from her father (Saturnino Bravo), won a gold medal in the Brussels Competition for the pure Torontel Pisco. It filled her with illusions and plans, such as traveling to London, carrying with her the star she distilled.
Her daughter-in-law remembers her as a good woman to the full extent of the word, who never refused to help, a tireless fighter. And she told us, a weight on our chests, “before she died, she told us that you were coming to interview her.”
The pure Pisco Torontel don Saturnino traveled with us to our next destination, sharing, quietly that feeling of closeness unknown to us and which touches our hearts as the days go by.
Precious History
The next destination was northern Ica, fifteen kilometers from Chincha, in the Hoja Redonda district. No one was unaware of the home of Elena Garcia; everyone knew her wonderful story. Well surrounded by a subtle aura,
Elena came to Hoja Redonda twelve years ago with a suitcase in one hand and her three children in the other.
In Moquegua, her native land, she earned her living by sewing for other people. But no one could patch the sadness of having a cruel husband. Only by preparing Pisco could she find a way to distill her sadness and give a future for her children.
When she knocked on the door of the Brescia family estate, there was skepticism regarding her offer of preparing Piscos. “I started with four plastic tubs and a small still-pot. I will always remember it.” Since then, in 1993, she has sworn to leave every year, but she is still there next to her beloved stills.
“I like this job. And little by little I created a small bodega, where I could do marvelous things. I made everything up—until in 1995 I saw on the news that there was a Pisco competition and they were asking for Piscos to compete. I presented our Pisco and won first place! That gave me strength, the owner loved it, and he told me that I could do whatever I wanted. But I never thought about myself—that is why I am who I am!
Now that the small bodega has been transformed into the very modern Viñas de Oro, with 50 hectares of grapes, they don’t want her to leave. “They tell me that if I leave, the owner will have a heart attack.”
Much of the advancement of the bodega is due to her effort and generosity. “When they didn’t buy the things I asked for, I cried. I saw that they were not listening to me and I would cry and threaten to leave. They noticed that I was so upset that they bought me the things, and I received them with love. It was for the bodega, so it could grow. I asked God for it to grow so that it would generate more work. And the bodega doesn’t know what to do with so many grapes, and has been looking for many people to work for them.”
We can’t really say what her position is. To be honest, she works in everything, and as Johnny Schuler says, her word is the law in Viñas de Oro. She distills, carries out quality control, filtration, bottling. Her secret is her maternal care that she gives to the entire process—from the stem to the glass.
But everyone has the right to form their own future. Elena Garcia is a brave, dedicated woman. She doesn’t have to even demonstrate it—twelve years of lonely battle are proof enough.
That is why now that her daughter is about to graduate from Moquegua as an agricultural technician with knowledge of enology, she has an idea running through her head.
Elena… you are dreaming of having your own bodega…?, isn’t that so? Yes.
(She closes her eyes, teary-eyed, her voice trembles). Yes, I do all the time. I have *finished my cycle here and I want to open my bodega. I have to do it with my children. There is nothing wrong with starting from scratch. I’m not afraid. I want to go back to Moquegua and make my own Pisco.
Wings, good wind…and good grapes.
Rosalina and Marisol
The next day, the morning sun rose over Lunahuana with a virtue that can heal scars from the soul. Ready for the next part of our trip, we chewed on our thoughts while busy hands kneaded bread for breakfast. All this before we went to the Olimpo Bodega, which until four years ago was occupied by the emblematic figure of Rene Adolfo Quiroz Cubillas, son of the legendary Vicente Quiroz Sanchez, the Bodega’s founder in 1934.
Few burials bring together so many and so varied demonstrations of support. There was a sea of people, and on that day the voice of Rosalina Sanchez de Quiroz was Rose with unexpected strength, over crowed as she said goodbye to her 50 year long partner in marriage.
We have spoken of marked loneliness, but also of anxiety and labor. The former two-time mayor of Lunahuana doesn’t have the will to abandon the bodega but although she kept from the farm work and the distillery she learned the challenges of the early morning schedule and the housework that follows.
“God put me on this path, even before I was married. I was living in Lima then I fell in love, got married and moved to Lunahuana.”
In her case as well, like the Bohorquez with their father, Rosalina and her daughters gave into the patriarchal spirit and did not ever think about getting close to the farm work, especially during the grape-crushing.
The pure Pisco Torontel don Saturnino traveled with us to our next destination, sharing, quietly that feeling of closeness unknown to us and which touches our hearts as the days go by.
Precious History
The next destination was northern Ica, fifteen kilometers from Chincha, in the Hoja Redonda district. No one was unaware of the home of Elena Garcia; everyone knew her wonderful story. Well surrounded by a subtle aura,
Elena came to Hoja Redonda twelve years ago with a suitcase in one hand and her three children in the other.
In Moquegua, her native land, she earned her living by sewing for other people. But no one could patch the sadness of having a cruel husband. Only by preparing Pisco could she find a way to distill her sadness and give a future for her children.
When she knocked on the door of the Brescia family estate, there was skepticism regarding her offer of preparing Piscos. “I started with four plastic tubs and a small still-pot. I will always remember it.” Since then, in 1993, she has sworn to leave every year, but she is still there next to her beloved stills.
“I like this job. And little by little I created a small bodega, where I could do marvelous things. I made everything up—until in 1995 I saw on the news that there was a Pisco competition and they were asking for Piscos to compete. I presented our Pisco and won first place! That gave me strength, the owner loved it, and he told me that I could do whatever I wanted. But I never thought about myself—that is why I am who I am!
Now that the small bodega has been transformed into the very modern Viñas de Oro, with 50 hectares of grapes, they don’t want her to leave. “They tell me that if I leave, the owner will have a heart attack.”
Much of the advancement of the bodega is due to her effort and generosity. “When they didn’t buy the things I asked for, I cried. I saw that they were not listening to me and I would cry and threaten to leave. They noticed that I was so upset that they bought me the things, and I received them with love. It was for the bodega, so it could grow. I asked God for it to grow so that it would generate more work. And the bodega doesn’t know what to do with so many grapes, and has been looking for many people to work for them.”
We can’t really say what her position is. To be honest, she works in everything, and as Johnny Schuler says, her word is the law in Viñas de Oro. She distills, carries out quality control, filtration, bottling. Her secret is her maternal care that she gives to the entire process—from the stem to the glass.
But everyone has the right to form their own future. Elena Garcia is a brave, dedicated woman. She doesn’t have to even demonstrate it—twelve years of lonely battle are proof enough.
That is why now that her daughter is about to graduate from Moquegua as an agricultural technician with knowledge of enology, she has an idea running through her head.
Elena… you are dreaming of having your own bodega…?, isn’t that so? Yes.
(She closes her eyes, teary-eyed, her voice trembles). Yes, I do all the time. I have *finished my cycle here and I want to open my bodega. I have to do it with my children. There is nothing wrong with starting from scratch. I’m not afraid. I want to go back to Moquegua and make my own Pisco.
Wings, good wind…and good grapes.
Rosalina and Marisol
The next day, the morning sun rose over Lunahuana with a virtue that can heal scars from the soul. Ready for the next part of our trip, we chewed on our thoughts while busy hands kneaded bread for breakfast. All this before we went to the Olimpo Bodega, which until four years ago was occupied by the emblematic figure of Rene Adolfo Quiroz Cubillas, son of the legendary Vicente Quiroz Sanchez, the Bodega’s founder in 1934.
Few burials bring together so many and so varied demonstrations of support. There was a sea of people, and on that day the voice of Rosalina Sanchez de Quiroz was Rose with unexpected strength, over crowed as she said goodbye to her 50 year long partner in marriage.
We have spoken of marked loneliness, but also of anxiety and labor. The former two-time mayor of Lunahuana doesn’t have the will to abandon the bodega but although she kept from the farm work and the distillery she learned the challenges of the early morning schedule and the housework that follows.
“God put me on this path, even before I was married. I was living in Lima then I fell in love, got married and moved to Lunahuana.”
In her case as well, like the Bohorquez with their father, Rosalina and her daughters gave into the patriarchal spirit and did not ever think about getting close to the farm work, especially during the grape-crushing.
“When my husband was alive, he wouldn’t even let us out of the house. ‘This is not work for my daughters to do,’ he said. My husband was very conservative. At most I watched what he was doing. Now, if he or their grandfather were alive, they would fall over watching us do this work,” she says proudly.
“The Gringa” as she is affectionately known in Lunahuana, believes that there is a difference when there is a woman involved in making Pisco. Which coincides with Eduvina Acuache from Ica who believes that it is because of the care women give to the purity of the grape. “Also, women have a much more delicate palate and we appreciate smells and flavors better.”
This Pisco lady has assured her succession. And her daughter Marisol keep herself away from this painful fate that puts women at the head of such vigorous work. She is in Lunahuana and works at El Olimpo Bodega after the airline she was working for in Lima broked down
With her little Allison she has embarked on the return to her father’s land and there she will learn to produce Pisco, from the grape to the press, from the darkness of the earthenware jugs to the light of the still and the enjoyable immaculate flow of our Peruvian firewater.
“The Gringa” as she is affectionately known in Lunahuana, believes that there is a difference when there is a woman involved in making Pisco. Which coincides with Eduvina Acuache from Ica who believes that it is because of the care women give to the purity of the grape. “Also, women have a much more delicate palate and we appreciate smells and flavors better.”
This Pisco lady has assured her succession. And her daughter Marisol keep herself away from this painful fate that puts women at the head of such vigorous work. She is in Lunahuana and works at El Olimpo Bodega after the airline she was working for in Lima broked down
With her little Allison she has embarked on the return to her father’s land and there she will learn to produce Pisco, from the grape to the press, from the darkness of the earthenware jugs to the light of the still and the enjoyable immaculate flow of our Peruvian firewater.
Translated by Katrina Heimark
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