Someone just pulled the lever on one of the many toilets in the Palace of Justice. Although unpleasant, the evacuated jet is a familiar sound to those who work in the General Archive of the Nation, a 2,500 square meter space where the documentary memory of Peru is preserved, located for eighty years in the basement of the Palace, in the Center of Lima. Beyond their knowledge, filers must meet some essential requirements: not be afraid of mice or lizards, possible intruders that they must scare away; accept with dignity that they will contract rhinitis or sinusitis; and not be disgusted by the nauseating odors that filter in from time to time.
It was long ago determined that this place with its cracks, peeling roofs and exposed drainage pipes was not suitable, but since there was no other, it was decided that the staff would have the right to go out to a skylight to breathe five minutes of fresh air every hour and to have a thirty-minute break at mid-morning. It is lunchtime, and the archivists are beginning to remove their latex gloves and cotton masks. Twelve people are racing against time, trying to inventory the 1,600 meters of documentation missing to complete the 16 kilometers of the archive from the Republican era, which, as planned, will be moved in August to a warehouse in Callao, nestled in an industrial zone of the Bocanegra urbanization.
This news has alarmed academic sectors for months, claiming that cultural heritage is being put at risk by choosing a location close to the humidity of the sea, which is next to a bleach factory and is also far away. People also question whether the move is temporary and the cost is high: 3,160,220 dollars for 36 months of rent, that is, an average of 81,000 dollars per month. For all these reasons, the heads of the National General Archive are in the public eye. In particular, its institutional head, Ricardo Moreau Heredia and the director of the Historical Archive, Ruth Borja Santa Cruz.
“We are precarious possessors and we have an eviction order in progress, but people don’t understand that,” says Borja—white hair with purple highlights, thick-framed glasses, a poncho with embroidered flames—, a historian who began her career in this same basement, dusting and organizing offices in ’87 and which later had a key role in the description of the documentary collection of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (CVR), which scrutinized the violence that occurred between the 80s and 2000. A The media questioned his integrity by pointing out that Borja’s partner is the brother of a terrorist comrade. Borja defends herself with factual data: she divorced her ex-husband in 2009, and never met her sister-in-law because she disappeared in the eighties.
Voices that even disagree with the move have come out to defend his reputation. But Borja hopes that, beyond personal attacks, citizens understand that this premises is not their own, that it has always belonged to the Judiciary and that there is an order in the enforcement sentence to vacate the space as soon as possible. “The investigators say that we should declare ourselves in rebellion, that they will support us in not moving. But we are public officials and as such we are subject to scrutiny and complaints if we do not comply with a court order,” he explains.
The director of the Historical Archives points out that the problem with staying in the basement is that, as they are not the owners, they cannot refurbish the infrastructure or install large-scale dehumidifiers. Therefore, every time there is a leak, the only thing they can do is place plastic buckets and dry the documentation. There is a technical file for the construction of the new headquarters in a building in the Pueblo Libre district, but no progress has yet been made.
Regarding the dangers of moving to an industrial area, Ruth Borja insists that the decision was made jointly and that the best option was chosen from among twenty-four alternatives. “There will be a distance of 35 meters between the documentation and the warehouse of the bleach factory. We have tried to ensure that there is a wide gap. In addition, bleach is not flammable,” she says. Regarding humidity, she points out: “Humidity is very high throughout Lima, it is a problem for the entire city, but there is a report that indicates that in the Callao area there is less humidity than in Cercado de Lima.” This report, which will be shared with me later, refutes this: Callao, the constitutional province that faces the sea, has seven percentage points more humidity.
As for the expense, Borja focuses his argument on the fact that the other premises lacked administrative areas and furniture. “They ended up being more expensive, because we had to implement shelving, a user area and an unloading area. On the other hand, this one has a space for customer service, three administrative floors, very modern fire protection systems, a storage height of ten meters and has an area of 5,800 square meters that will allow us to protect the archive in optimal conditions.”
Cecilia Soto Molina, head of the Historical Archive and Cultural Management Processes Unit, says that they have taken all possible precautions for the eventual transfer: they will hire 45 external workers who will join the ten archivists, who will work together on the move. “The documentation will be sealed, no more than three boxes will be stacked on the truck to make fewer trips, archive personnel will be present at all times, and nothing will be moved that is not inventoried,” she says.
A report by Epicentro TV revealed that the General Secretariat of the Ministry of Culture visited said premises and not only concluded that its location presents potential risks such as “fires, chemical contamination, floods and theft”, but that neither in the bases nor in the terms of reference to contract the warehouse, special conditions of technical security for the preservation of documents on paper were requested. In said letter they urgently recommend the inspection of international experts. Recommendation that the headquarters of the General Archive of the Nation have complied with. In the fortnight of July, three members of the Latin American Archives Association will visit the questioned location and issue a report. Will being a lapidary frustrate the move, even though a contract has already been signed with the Transel consortium and an advance has been paid?
“We consider that we have decided well, but we will adjust to the report. Yes, it could be stopped (the transfer), and we will accept what the experts say. No premises that are rented will meet all the conditions because they are not premises made for archives but for warehouses, and that is why we are going to condition them. It is also clear that at the judicial level there is no turning back. We will have to leave,” says Ruth Borja, the director of the Historical Archive.
On a table they have displayed a few relics: an account book from the 17th century, a letter from 1821 in the handwriting of the liberator José de San Martín, the chronology of how the stanzas of the national anthem were modified, the will of the anthropologist Julio César Tello, and some coca leaves buried next to mummies. The value is incalculable. A false step would be fatal for documents that represent the DNA of the country. Enough damage from living in a dungeon since the last century: may reason enlighten you.
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