“I am the last,” declares Isabelle Atayupanqui Pachacutec, the last direct descendant to hold the noble name of Pachacutec (the transformer of the world), the greatest leader of the Inca Empire. At 81 years old, Isabelle arrives home from shopping, entering the small courtyard of her house located on the outskirts of Cuzco, Peru.

Small and round, her hair braided in two long ponytails, she is the living stereotype of a Peruvian grandmother. Her face doesn’t betray her Inca origins. Her nose is pronounced, her cheeks high and large. But it is her son who, with the same characteristics only in the masculine version, most resembles the illustrious ancestor.

For our interview, her son, José, removes her tall round white hat. “That comes from the Spanish,” says José half as an excuse. Isabelle’s grandfather was Gregorio Pachacutec, an only child. Married to Juliana Sinchirocca, the couple had five children of which four boys. But they all died before marrying. Augustina Pachacutec, the surviving sister married Silverio Atayupanqui.

They also had five children, including Isabelle. These children still have the name Pachacutec, but only as a second family name. This name will stop at this generation because only the first family name is passed on.

Other families can trace their genealogy back to the Incas. The Sinchiroccas, Uscamayta, Atayupanqui and others mostly live outside the imperial city of Cuzco. When the Spanish invaded the Inca territory, families escaped from the city. They tend to live today in the surrounding suburbs of Cuzco, like San Sebastian and San Jeronimo.

In need of Recognition

“Why are only stones important,” exclaims Nivardo, Isabelle’s great nephew, referring to the ruins of Inca buildings and prayer sites at the heart of the tourist industry. The family would like an official recognition of their direct link to the great Pachacutec.

“It’s not for the money or about any sort of privilege. We just think that the direct Inca descendants are as much a part of our heritage as are the ruins.” Nivardo is making a film about his great Aunt.

“When I was little, I was even ashamed of my origins,” admits José, Isabelle’s son. “People treated us as inferior. It wasn’t until the 1970s when society finally became aware of this cultural heritage and we started to feel proud to have an Inca name.” Isabelle affirms she has always been proud of her origins. Widowed very young, she has been trading

Nivardo, Isabelle and José

at the market all her life. Her preoccupations are those of most grandmothers. She worries mostly about her 33 grandchildren and 3 great-grandchildren, hoping they will have a better life.

Isabelle has never been to school and she speaks no Spanish, only Quechua. Her eyes are fogged by fatigue and constant worries.

Do her ancestors communicate with her through dreams, I ask. “Last night, I dreamed of a young boy who was in love with me,” she reveals. Before I can hear the translation from Quechua, the family breaks out laughing. With a trace of coquetry, Isabelle seems to travel in her thoughts to a happier era.