Munay

I came upon them where two paths met beside the river. A woman stood on one side and a man on the other, each holding a kero. They weren't speaking when I approached. Behind them, several people had gathered at a respectful distance, and high above the valley a condor circled between the mountains. There was something deliberate about the moment, as though whatever was happening had begun long before I arrived.

They raised their keros toward one another. I wondered whether I was witnessing a promise, an agreement, a celebration, or something I didn't have the knowledge to name. Neither of them seemed uncertain. They looked directly at one another with the quiet seriousness of people who understood that wanting something and choosing it are not always the same thing. Eventually they drank, and the people behind them began moving forward.

I stayed near the river for a while after they left. I kept thinking about the word munay. I had understood it as love, but perhaps I had made the word too small. There are people I love. There are places I want to go. There is work I want to make. There are things I desire and things I deliberately choose. All of them ask something of me once I say yes.

The two paths continued in different directions behind me. I could have stood at their meeting place all afternoon wondering which one was right. Eventually, I chose one and began walking.