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Chasqui: Year 2, Number 3 - January 2004
By: Fernando Cabieses

In addition to my fascination for neurology and brain surgery, I like to dabble in the study of our natural surroundings. Among my recent publications is a book about "The Anthropology of Aji", many aspects of which are surprising, giving rise to some strange reactions.

The first ones to raise their voices in protest were my Mexican friends, who believe that the hot pepper which we call aji and they call chilli, originated in the very heart of their own beautiful country, Mexico. The truth is, however, that the very first chilli pepper to appear on this planet grew in the southern territory we now call Bolivia. It was a very hot spicy kind of pepper which still grows in Bolivia today, although nowadays it also grows wildly in many other parts of the world. All the papers and documents on this crop are duly registered in paleobotanical files and, according to all experts (including Mexican connoisseurs), the Lord planted the original chilli pepper, the father of all chilli peppers, in the Bolivian jungle.

After a long time, thanks to the birds who feed on these chilli peppers with a lustful pleasure, they spread throughout the Amazon basin, then to the Orinoco and finally to Mexico. How did that occur? Only the birds know! However, allpaleobotanists agree that the chilli pepper reached Mexico from the Andes. Of course that happened several thousand centuries ago, but the first human being to arrive in Mexico only about two hundred centuries ago found the small Andean pepper and after tasting it, he cultivated it and gave it the name chilli. Neither he nor the present Mexican population were in the least bit interested in knowing that this crop actually originated in the land that was once known as Higher Peru and is now Bolivia.

Ancient Mexicans were great farmers and they adopted the chilli as their own, cultivating it, pampering it, perfecting it and genetically studying it. With their magnificent creativity and extremely hard work, they produced an amazing variety of chilli peppers, all of which descend from that original small Andean pepper. Of course, chilli peppers have been acknowledged worldwide as being Mexican. Mayas and Mexicans took them to the Caribbean, where Columbus and his brave sailors discovered them,. Considering them to be very similar to pepper, they took them back to Spain, presenting them to Queen Isabel, who had financed the Genoese mariner’s adventure, because pepper and other Asian spices, which made the European food of that time more tolerable, were no longer reaching Spain.

The discoverers of this strong pepper in the Caribbean, changed its name to "pimiento" or sweet pepper. Everyone respected the Caribbean name aji which was accepted throughout the continent, except the stubborn Mexican cooks who defended the name "chilli" with tooth and nail. Subsequently, the Portuguese took these peppers to Asia, whereas other Europeans took them to Africa and the rest of Europe. Since everyone gave this pepper the name they pleased, a curious Swedish doctor, the great Linneo, gave the name capsicum to the wide range of descendants of the original aji.

Linneo referred to the original small aji and all its descendants as capsicum annumm, however more than twenty-five different species have been discovered in the Amazon jungle and surrounding areas, each one with a Latin word made to measure. They are all different to suit every taste, but only five of them have been domesticated. The capsicum annumm, the great great grandfather of Mexican chillis, has very lascivious habits. It mates with whichever cousin, aunt, grandmother or neighbour is closest and the results of this plausible promiscuity are a number of other chillies that wave the flag of hot Mexican food. In Peru we also have some cousins of the Mexican chillis to scandalize even the least conservative geneticists, but as occurs in all families, there are some relatives that are very respectful of social laws. There are two Peruvian species that totally refuse to compromise their genome outside the strictest rules of chastity.

One of these is the hot pepper we refer to as rocoto or hot bell pepper. Readers are probably well aware of how hot and spicy this variety is. Botanists call it capsicum pubescens. It grows best in mild climates, particularly in the Andean highlands of Cuzco and Arequipa. The fortunate natives of both these cities each defend their intellectual property rights, claiming to be the creators of this spicy species, which only thrives in those regions of Peru. Everyone who has tried to grow it elsewhere has failed, although some attempts have had mediocre results. In Mexico they call it apple chilli or horse chilli, but it is a mediocre species. Farmers in Costa Rica seem to be learning to cultivate it, but the fact is, no fertile hybrid of this aristocratic crop has been obtained elsewhere.

The other Peruvian "aji" that scorns unrelated genomes is the one used in all Peruvian cuisine, from potatoes with "aji" to "escabeche" (pickled fish) and duck with rice. Botanists call this variety capsicum baccatum. Our cooks insist on calling it green aji, even though it is a beautiful bright orange colour. When it dries up and turns nearly black, we call it "aji panca". Again, it does not grow well elsewhere and those who have cultivated it in other parts of the continent call it Cuzco chilli or Peruvian chilli.

"Aji limo" is another kind altogether; if you stroll through the small markets of Peru, you can make your "cebiche" (marinated fish) with thirty different kinds of chillies, all of them promiscuous mixtures of the other species. It is enough to drive any botanist crazy. Changing the subject, defiant questions arise when one tries to find out why the aji is so spicy hot, why we like it, why it is that something that burns your mouth is not harmful. Why? Why indeed?

That is exactly what prompted me to write a book. There is an answer to everything and every answer gives rise to more questions. That is the way we are and that is what science is all about. It has been known for over a hundred years that the chilli is spicy hot because it contains a chemical substance called capsaicin. When it comes into contact with the eyes or the mouth, it stings so much it makes one see stars! One gram of purified capsaicin in a 4 x 5 x 1 m. pool would make it too unbearable to get into. A rocoto only has a small amount of capssaisin, yet we all know how it can sting.

What does capsaicin do, though? Examine it and you will be convinced that what that substance produces is pain! That burning tongue or stinging eye is really a type of pain. The sensation in your mouth when you eat chilli is pain. I need several pages to explain it, but the fact remains, that burning sensation is definitely pain.

It is hard to explain why people are so partial to chilli if it causes pain. Are we a tribe of masochists? Mexicans, Peruvians, Chinese, Koreans, Japanese, French, Africans…… can they all be masochists? It is these ambiguities and contrasts that make chilli peppers so wonderful. The fact is that there is nothing in the universe as complicated as the brain. When we feel a strong pain, our brain cells protect themselves by producing substances called endorphins. They are a kind of endogenous morphine that act in the same way as opium morphine, numbing the areas of the brain that register pain. Since they are the same as opium morphine, not only do they make pain tolerable but they also produce a feeling of well-being and peace. Pure morphine. Can you believe it? When we see on television or in real life that victims of terrible injuries, horrible burns or cruel mutilations neither scream nor complain while they are being rescued, tolerating what would appear to be extremely painful, it is because their brains are producing endorphins that reduce the significance of the dangerous injuries suffered.

Experts maintain that we tolerate the sharp sting we feel when eating chilli because we know it is not harmful. The brain produces endorphins that calm the intensity of the pain and in addition, produce a pleasing sensation of euphoria which is responsible for the harmonious and enthusiastic socialization that goes on in spicy food restaurants in Arequipa or among the "Mariachis" in a Mexican eating house.

Capsaicin and the way it acts was a great discovery. Neurologists can now understand many pain mechanisms, hence its current medical use for various diseases and painful situations. However, researchers have discovered that capsaicin produces pain only in areas where there are receivers of this molecule. We have receivers all over our mouth and pharynx, as well as our eyes. However, we have none in the stomach or intestines, therefore once we have swallowed the food, we will only feel the burning sensation in our mouth and maybe our throat. The next day, when any remnant might leave our body the way God planned it, we may well feel the burning sensation again! However, it causes no discomfort anywhere else. Such is the case in all mammals. It is worth noting, however, that birds have no such capsaicin receivers, therefore they are incapable of feeling the sting of a hot chilli. Consequently, we can feed a parrot a rocoto and watch it eat it with pleasure. That is why the birds spread the Bolivian aji as far as Mexico. That is also why a chicken will never flinch if we squeeze some rocoto juice into its eyes. The same cannot be said for cats and dogs, however.

When studying these aspects of chilli peppers, a group of Hungarian scientists injected capsaicin into the stomach of a newborn rat. A few days later, the baby rat had lost all its capacity to feel pain. Curiously enough, pain is our best friend, since it warms us about impending danger. When there is no pain, the danger progresses and the risk is enormous. The baby rat died young. One day it felt hungry and ate its own four legs. It felt no pain…

Just imagine, had it not been for this tribe of plants – in this case paprika or sweet red pepper which is a capsicum annumm without capsaicin – had it not been for this castrated chilli called sweet chilli that does not sting, and had the Hungarians not liked it so much, a man named Szent Györgi would never have discovered vitamin C and he would never have won the Nobel Prize! Forget about oranges and citrus fruit. A sweet pepper contains more vitamin C than four oranges. So does a rocoto, even though it brings tears to your eyes. The aji, a marvellous product of the Andean biodiversity, is still full of many secrets.