Ekeko

On a shelf in a kitchen high on the Bolivian Altiplano, where the air thins to a cold blue and everything smells of woodsmoke and boiled maize, a squat little man stands buried under a cargo of plenty. Sacks of grain are roped to his back. Baskets of bread and dried potatoes hang from his shoulders, along with tiny cooking pots, a folded banknote, a little ladder, sometimes a miniature truck or a slip of paper standing in for a house. He grins through a heavy black mustache, arms open as if there were always room for one more bundle. This is the Ekeko, and he is waiting to be fed.

His work is simple. People want things, and the Ekeko provides them, or at least promises to, on terms he sets himself. He is the god of abundance and good fortune across the highlands the Aymara have farmed for centuries, and his reach runs from western Bolivia into southern Peru and the cold corners of northern Chile and Argentina. Wherever the Altiplano stretches, someone keeps one of him in a place of honor at home.

He is older than he looks, and far older than the Inca. Stone, mud, and gold figures dug from the country around Lake Poopó and the old mining departments of La Paz, Oruro, and Potosí point back to Tiwanaku, the civilization that raised its temples by Lake Titicaca a thousand years before the Spanish came. Near the December solstice the people there worshipped their gods by offering small models of what they hoped to gain in the year ahead. His name carries the old sense of “dwarf,” and behind it stands an Aymara spirit of fortune, the Ekhako or Illa, called on whenever misfortune crept into a house. The earliest idols are hunched and sometimes frankly fertile, nothing like the jolly gentleman in the poncho. That cheerful version is colonial, the ancient luck-spirit dressed in the clothes of a new century.

The story most often told about him is set in 1781, when the indigenous army of Túpac Katari ringed La Paz and held it under siege. Inside the walls people starved. They ate the cats, then the dogs. A servant girl named Paulita Tintaya kept house for a Spanish family, and she was in love with Isidoro Choquehuanca, a young man from the estate where she had grown up. Before she left it, he had given her a small clay figure to keep her safe, modeled, some say, on her master’s father, a short, round, red-faced, good-humored Spaniard. All through the siege her kitchen never emptied. Dried meat, maize, and biscuits appeared beside the little statue on its altar, and on that food she and her mistress survived. The miracle had a plain explanation. Isidoro was a soldier in the besieging army, and week after week he slipped into the city and left provisions by the figure without a word. When the governor asked where the food came from, Paulita pointed to the clay man and called him Ekeko. Afterward, copies of him spread across the highlands as charms of plenty.

In the flesh, so to speak, he is small. Most figures stand about fifteen centimeters, cast in plaster or fired clay and hand-painted, every inch of him hung with the freight of a comfortable life. Modern statues have a neat round hole set in the mouth. Once a year his owner wedges a lit cigarette there and lets it burn. The thread of smoke rising from the little face, the dry smell of tobacco filling the room, is read as a sign: if he smokes cleanly and the ash holds, the year will be good.

His great festival is Alasitas, which opens in La Paz every January 24. The word means something close to “buy me.” For days the stalls overflow with everything made tiny, banknotes and houses and diplomas and trucks and bags of rice no longer than a finger. At midday a ritual specialist blesses the purchases with incense and a splash of alcohol, and the small things are pinned to an Ekeko to charge them with promise. There is one firm rule. No one buys their own luck. A miniature works best when someone gives it to you, in the belief that the full-size thing will arrive within the year.

That is the heart of the bargain, and it cuts both ways. The Ekeko gives generously, real money, full harvests when he is offered grain, the true version of whatever miniature is tied to him, but he gives nothing for free. An offering comes first. He expects to be fed, sprinkled with alcohol, kept somewhere warm and respected, his cigarette lit on the appointed day. Neglect him and the abundance thins to nothing. He is a god you have to keep happy. Leave him hungry on his shelf, and he simply stops.

Frequently Asked Questions

Who is Ekeko?

Ekeko is the Aymara god of abundance and good fortune from the Andean Altiplano, worshipped in Bolivia, southern Peru, and parts of northern Chile and Argentina. He is kept as a small household figure laden with miniature goods, and he is believed to grant the wealth and prosperity those objects represent.

What does Ekeko do?

Ekeko brings abundance to the home, granting money, good harvests, and the full-size version of any miniature attached to him within the coming year. He requires offerings first, such as banknotes, grain, alcohol, or a lit cigarette, and rewards worshippers who keep him fed and respected while withdrawing his favor from those who neglect him.

What is the Alasitas festival?

Alasitas is the annual fair held in La Paz, Bolivia, every January 24, where Ekeko is the central figure. People buy miniature versions of things they want, such as money, houses, cars, or diplomas, then have them blessed and pinned to an Ekeko in the hope the real items arrive during the year. The word “alasitas” means roughly “buy me.”

Why does Ekeko have a cigarette in his mouth?

Many modern Ekeko statues have a small hole in the mouth so a real cigarette can be placed there and lit once a year. The way the cigarette smokes is read as an omen: if it burns cleanly and the ash holds, the year ahead will be prosperous. It is also one of the offerings Ekeko expects in exchange for his blessings.

Where does the legend of Ekeko come from?

The best-known legend dates to the 1781 siege of La Paz, when a servant named Paulita Tintaya survived starvation because food kept appearing beside a small clay figure given to her by her sweetheart Isidoro. The food was secretly left by Isidoro, a soldier in the besieging army, but the figure was credited with the miracle and became known as Ekeko. The deity himself is far older, with roots in the pre-Inca Tiwanaku culture.

Related Entries

Pachamama, Viracocha, Inti, Illapa, Supay, Amaru, Pishtaco, Bes, Lares, Di Penates, Domovoi, Tomte, Nisse