Careybana in Xaragua

Although this is purely speculative, one wonders if the place name, Careybana, may have simply meant a flooded or wet plain. Identified in the Spanish chronicles as an area situated on a plain with a large concentration of people in the cacicazgo of Xaragua, the first part of the name, Carey, bears a slight resemblance to a Palikur word for a flooded plain. According to Launey's book on the Palikur tongue, kariy means flooded plain. While Palikur is an Arawakan language distantly related to Taino, we suspect carey and kariy might be related terms. Sadly, we could not find any similar words in Island Carib, Garifuna, or other Arawakan languages. In the Arawak of Suriname, however, Goeje did record kalhao or kalho as words for grass. Perhaps it is far more likely that Careybana simply meant a wet plain where seaturtles could be easily caught near the coast, assuming carey is really the Taino word for sea turtles. 

The Extirpation of Idolatry in Peru

Pablo Joseph de Arriaga's The Extirpation of Idolatry is a fascinating report on the widespread maintenance of precolonial religious traditions and spirituality among indigenous peoples in colonial Peru. A Jesuit priest who promoted "visits" by priests to identify huacas, "sorcerers" and practitioners or observers of the pre-Christian faith, in order to destroy relics, mummies, huacas, and force "sorcerers" and those who still consulted them to cease, Arriaga is an important source on the nature of Andean indigenous religion and spirituality. For instance, one chapter provides a wealth of detail about the sorcerers or witches who plagued a coastal community, gathering at night to kill their victims through supernatural means. Supposedly, this league of witches honored a "lion" deity. 

Much of the text also describes other aspects of Andean religion, particularly the veneration accorded to huacas, mummified ancestors, and household gods or clan-affiliated gods and myths of origin. This information was considered very important for the clergy operating in these areas so they could better refute the "errors" of the Indians in the communities they served. Of course, Arriaga also reserved criticism for the Spaniards and Church, which often failed to actually educate the Indians about the fundamentals of the Catholic faith and failing to provide a good example to inculcate proper Christian values and practice. Furthermore, far too few priests actually mastered indigenous languages like Quechua or Aymara to give effective sermons or provide a fuller education to Indians about the "true" religion that they had been exposed to since the Spanish Conquest. 

While modern readers today might find much to lament or be disgusted by in Arriaga's account, it nonetheless helps us identify some of the religious practices and traditions of precolonial Peru. Unfortunately, we do not have more texts like the Huarochiri Manuscript to shed fuller light on what must have been the very detailed and regionally specific traditions, legends, fables, and huacas of more areas in colonial Peru. Arriaga's account on how the visits should work and the state of Christianity among Indians in the early 1600s helps fill in the gaps. 

Mixtecs of Colonial Oaxaca

   The goal of Terraciano’s monograph is to examine history of the Ñudzahui primarily through the native-language documents written by members of the Ñudzahui nobility and then study the impact of the Spanish and colonialism. Terraciano combines these sources with linguistic, textual, and visual techniques and Spanish colonial sources to analyze change and continuity in the region’s sociopolitical structure, religious practices, gender dynamics, land tenure, and self-ascription as Ñudzahui.

        Like Farriss and Spalding, Terraciano illustrates how colonial control of the Ñudzahui, who were divided into multiple kingdoms united by interdynastic marriages to connect yuhuitayu, came to rely on local patterns of sociopolitical system that gradually changed. The Ñudzahui nobility acted on behalf of their own interests while also representing their communities through reciprocal obligations or religious festivals. Their religious traditions persisted in the veneration of Catholic saints, their images, and All Saints’ Day. In addition to change and continuity in religion, gender roles also shifted from the preconquest patterns of acceptance of women rulers to the colonial practice of privileging males in these interdynastic marriages in cabildos instituted by the colonial state. Systems of land tenure also changed as Ñudzahui elites leased it to Spaniards, increasingly bought and sold land, donated it to religious institutions, or corporate landholding in the form of Catholic confraternities developed.

            While explaining all the aforementioned processes, the significance of and level of detail Terraciano uncovers from Ñudzahui testaments, inventories, letters, and church-related sources provides, as the author asserts, a new lens with view to view the construction of Ñudzahui identity in light of similar studies of the Yucatec Maya or Nahua. Native-language sources as used by the author are by nature limited by their origins with the nobility of the ethnolinguistic group, but it raises important questions on ethnogenesis within colonial Mexican indigenous populations, particularly in ways that may differ from the Nahua and Yucatec Maya examples Terraciano alludes to for comparable examples in Mesoamerica.

            A particularly effective aspect of Terraciano’s history lies in the innovative methods employed to interpret visual sources, particularly codices and lienzos. Admitting that the visual sources examined were not intended to explain the entirety of Ñudzahui cosmology to outsiders, he nonetheless interprets visual evidence through religious symbolism and stylistic patterns to detect social values and the impact of colonialism. For instance, the importance of the reed mat with two seated figures, male and female, with multiple pairs arranged vertically to represent genealogical ties, becomes part of the author’s argument about the role of these earlier pictorial writings in recording origins of dynasties, as well as the importance of women. Gestures of the hand, size and dressing styles of depicted forms, and even the appearance of European-style doors in images of palaces also pertain to social relations.

Styles of dress, like the adoption by men of the Ñudzahui to European clothes instead of the previous loincloth, likewise assist in the monograph’s chronology of Spanish and European influences. By the end of the 16^th century, when writing in the Roman alphabet became the dominant method, pictorial writing motifs recur in church-related documents that probably demonstrate continuity and change in Ñudzahui Christianity. The best example of this is depiction of Christ and the Virgin Mary across from each other in heaven with gestures and gender pairing reminiscent of pictorial drawings of noble married couples as mother or father.

       On the other hand, one potential limitation or conceptual problem arose for the end of the colonial period. Terraciano situates his conclusions in opposition to Farriss’s, arguing that the late colonial period did not assert itself as a “second conquest” for Ñudzahui communities. One cannot help but wonder if non-native language records could have shed light on the ways Bourbon reforms or the increase in Spanish leasing of land and non-native dominance of trade and merchant activity undermined Ñudzahui nobility or economic autonomy in other ways, even if the region did not attract a significant number of Spaniards or obrajes. Was inequality within Ñudzahui communities exacerbated by 18^th century changes of non-native control of trade and the subordinate incorporation of the group into a money economy? Were relations with mestizos or people of African descent similar for both Ñudzahui nobility and commoners by the late colonial period? Native-language sources may not answer these questions or will leave lacunae.

The Incas and Pedro de Cieza de Leon

Completing The Incas, Harriet de Onis's translation of Pedro de Cieza de Leon was a time-consuming endeavor. Translating parts of different books of Cieza de Leon's history of Peru, the text is somewhat disjointed and a jarring. Nonetheless, it is a major source as one of the early chronicles on the Incas written by someone who traveled widely across South America. Moreover, he also had access to some of the early conquistadors and Spaniards who came to Peru with Pizarro or during the 1540s. This means that Cieza de Leon had access to some reliable informants, as well as indigenous informants or ruins he saw throughout his travels. Even more intriguing is the degree to which the author admired the achievements of Inca civilization in terms of its roads, architecture, administrative efficiency and economic organization. The Spaniards, particularly during the course of the civil wars after the conquest, were seen as the major ruin of the Indians, particularly in many coastal areas and valleys where the indigenous population was decimated by the Spaniards. 

As a major source on the Inca Empire, much of the text is spent describing the various provinces and regions under the control of Tawantinsuyu. The northernmost area of conquest, Pasto, was seen by the Incas sent there as a way of time. But Ecuador and much of the modern-day areas of Peru and Bolivia are described in great detail. Of course, some of Cieza de Leon's sources were muddled or confused, but he alluded to various provinces and under which Inca they were added to the empire. Some areas were remembered for the defeat of the Incas, such as Huayna Capac's failure to conquer the natives fo Bracamoros. According to Cieza de Leon, one Inca ruler, Yahuar Huacac Inca, was killed or assassinated by Cuntisuyu captains to prevent him from making further conquests. Inca Urco, the son of Viracocha Inca and thus a brother of Pachacuti, is described as a corrupt, ineffective ruler who was later replaced by Pachacuti. Strangely, however, the story of Pachacuti's victory against the Chancas did not feature stones turning into soldiers. Intriguingly, our chronicler also alluded to moments of revolts and coups by Cuzco elites, such as one crushed by Huayna Capac and another. One also finds a few more references to unrest in the provinces, such as a revolt by the Colla Indians against Pachacuti while the latter was in the East. 

Surprisingly, despite his detailed account of the regions of Ecuador under Inca rule, one does not find any reference to the Pacific Islands visited by Topa Inca. Instead, islanders bringing gold were said to have visited the southern coast of Peru at Acari. The Puna Islanders, however, were described as traders and pirate. As for the eastern lands, or Amazonian regions, Cieza de Leon makes an interesting reference to Orejones disguised as traders to the East. Paititi, the mysterious land somewhere in the East is also mentioned. One cannot escape reading this chronicle without noting Cieza de Leon's admiration for the Incas and even his respect for indigenous peoples (despite his constant lamentation of their demons and superstitions). 

Earth Beings and Trouillot Thoughts

Marisol de la Cadena's Earth Beings invokes Trouillot’s well-known Silencing of the Past multiple times throughout the book. Trouillot, who argued that the Haitian Revolution was unthinkable to European observers, is utilized by de la Cadena to argue why indigenous leaders such as Mariano Turpo were not recognized for their leadership. Like African-descended slaves in 18th century Saint Domingue, the runakuna of Peru were not seen as capable of rational political agency (61). Both liberalism and socialism perpetuate this refusal to recognize indigenous politics drawing on earth politics, which de la Cadena attributes to onto-epistemic practices of history which, beginning with Hegel and other Western thinkers, “canceled the world-making potential of practices that escaped the nature-humanity divide” (146). Similarly, the coloniality of politics and history, in which nature and humanity were divided, became the foundation of modern politics (92).

De la Cadena later connects epistemic disconcertment to Trouillot’s notion of the unthinkable, suggesting that instead of recognition, epistemic disconcertment has the potential to make one challenge what and how one knows (276). Building from her conclusions on the coloniality of modern politics and the importance of divergence or partial connections, de la Cadena seems to propose a politics underpinned by divergence (286). What this exactly looks like is not entirely clear, but she argues that the cosmo-politics of the runakuna, in which the in-ayllu includes earth-beings as well as humans, operates through divergence with modern politics and its possibility is not determined by contradiction (283). If my interpretation of de la Cadena’s argument is correct, she appears to be arguing for a coexistence of modern politics and earth politics in which neither one cancels the other. How would that work? Like Ari, she also noted the conflicts between Andean indigenous movements and their respective national governments regarding extractive mining or oil operations (284). The ontological disagreement on the rights of nature of Pachamama does not seem to be the grounds through which one can develop cosmovivir, either. 

Anacaona as Tragedy

Anacaona, poème dramatique by Burr-Reynaud, Frédéric Burr-Reynaud and Dominique Hippolyte is yet another play inspired by Haiti's indigenous past and the Spanish conquest. First staged in 1927, the play continues the Haitian tradition of connecting the struggles of the "Taino" with the descendants of African slaves who avenge them by defeating the French in 1804. Since it was also staged during the US Occupation, one can easily imagine the play appealing to nationalist sentiments in favor of Haitian independence and anti-imperialism, too. 

However, this short play fictionalizes aspects of the Xaragua Massacre orchestrated by Ovando. Although Ovando is portrayed as already plotting to destroy Xaragua and even convinces his officers that the Indians are plotting against them, the authors also add romance. Ovando actually falls in love with Anacaona, so completely seduced and beguiled by her charm, beauty and etiquette. Anacaona, however, cannot forget the fate of Caonabo, and only hopes to win over the Spanish with her charms to avert greater disaster. Sadly, Ovando nonetheless orders the massacres and becomes irate when rejected by Anacaona, who is later killed. 

Throughout the play, an old woman, Mataba, repeatedly warns of the Spanish plot to destroy Xaragua and enslave and oppress the Indian population. Alas, the other Indian leaders do not heed her warnings, so Mataba predicts the eventual vengeance of the indigenous population by blacks (today's Haitians). Thus, through a fraternal bond based on their exploitation and subjugation by Europeans, Haitians and "Tainos" are connected. Again, this is neither surprising, nor deviating from typical Haitian literary portrayals of the island's indigenous peoples. One can also see the authors continuing to use words derived from sources on the Kalinago, too. Thus, moutoutou, ouicou, Nonun, Savacou, Kouroumon, and other Kalinago words make an appearance. One scene even has Anacaona and her court praying to the cemis, including among them names from Kalinago (Island Carib) religion and spirituality. 

La fille du Kacik

In spite of its flaws, Henri Chauvet's La fille du Kacik is an interesting work of drama for the context in which it was produced. Published in 1894, ten years before the Centennial of Haitian independence, the play was undoubtedly connecting Caonabo's resistance to Spanish oppression and invasion with the origins of Haiti as an independent state. Needless to say, Chauvet took many liberties with history to portray Caonabo as a proto-nationalist leader eager to build an alliance with caciques across the island to defeat the Spaniards. The play, as one might expect, also focuses on his defeat of the whites left at Navidad by Columbus and the routing of a group led by Arana sent to avenge the men killed by Caonabo. Anacaona, who is mentioned once in a line by Mamona, the daughter of Caonabo, appears to either not be married yet to Caonabo or is marginal to the story. Xaragua, however, is mentioned briefly, and Bohechio as in agreement with Caonabo's plan to drive out the whites left in Marien. 

Much of the plot is centered on the tragic romance of Rodrigo, a "good" white who is opposed to the avarice and abuses of his fellow Spaniards eager to find gold and take advantage of indigenous women. Mamona, the beloved daughter of Caonabo, is rescued by Rodrigo from a caiman one day whilst resting near the Artibonite River. Because Rodrigo saved Mamona's life (who also happens to be named after Atabey, the mother of Yucahu), he is spared by Caonabo when Macao, a guide, leads the reconnaissance mission of the Spaniards straight into the domains of Caonabo. The powerful cacique, driven by a hatred for the Spaniards after their numerous depredations across the island for gold and women, has the Spaniards on the reconnaissance mission executed while Rodrigo, spared because of Mamona's love, is torn by his sense of honor and his feelings for Mamona. In a twist that is promising and liberatory, Caonabo later goes on to defeat the forces led by Arana to avenge the death of the Spaniards executed by the powerful cacique. In one moving scene, Caonabo similarly alludes to the barbarism of the Spaniards, despite the latter referring to the Indians as barbarians instead of civilized. Anyway, as one might expect, the romance of Mamona and Rodrigo is a tragic one, ending in the former's death and the suicide of the former. Nonetheless, Caonabo's pledge to liberate and defend Haiti, frequently alluding to the Aya aya bombe chant (which is actually of African origin) and even the Tree of Liberty, expresses Chauvet's desire to insert Caonabo into the pantheon of national heroes and founders. Guacanagaric, on the other hand, is more akin to a traitor and perhaps comparable to Rigaud?

Despite its anti-colonial themes, however, Chauvet's play surprisingly refuses to pass judgment on Columbus. Instead of the Admiral bearing any blame, it is really the rapacious appetite of the Spaniards in his service who are responsible for the abuses and exploitation of the island's indigenous people. Chauvet, through Rodrigo, prefers to portray Columbus as a heroic figure whose accomplishments represented an advance in science and human knowledge. Obviously, this version of events is not matched by the historical record, but it falls into line with the depiction of Columbus in Nau's history of Haiti's indigenous past. Another intriguing feature in the play is Chauvet's heavy reliance on Kalinago language and culture for what is ostensibly "Taino" Haiti. Instead of referring to clubs by their Taino name, macana, Chauvet uses boutou. He also uses Kalinago names for a variety of things, like karbet, Nonum, Louquo, Kouroumon, and Mabouya. Although the Taino and Kalinago cultures were definitely in contact in the precolonial Caribbean, the ubiquity of references and names derived from cultures non-indigenous to Hispaniola is a bit jarring. However, it does reflect 19th century Haitian knowledge of the island's indigenous peoples, which sometimes carelessly applied data from the Lesser Antilles to Hispaniola. Likewise, one wonders if, like Nau, Chauvet also believed the false idea that the sambas of 19th century Haiti were somehow derived from or influenced by the Taino singer-poets and their areytos, even though the word points more to Africa.