Miscelánea Antártica in French

Although this is far from ideal, one can get the gist of Miguel Cabello de Balboa's chronicle of the Incas in a 19th century French translation. Completed by Ternaux Compans in the 1840s, the partial translation covers the chapters pertinent to the Incas, omitting most of the large chronicle's chapters on various other topics. Obviously, we would prefer to read the entire work. But, reading 16th century Spanish chronicles is harder than 19th century French translations. Despite this less than ideal context for reading Cabello de Balboa, one is struck by some of the differences in how this chronicler approached the past of the Incas.

First, Miguel Cabello de Balboa drew from a lost work by Cristobal de Molina and his own sources. Some of these sources seem to reflect greater familiarity with the coastal regions of Peru and Ecuador rather than Cuzco. This means that Miscelánea Antártica may be useful for reconstructing the general narrative of Inca history written by Molina. It also adds a little more knowledge of the Chimu, Lambayeque and other coastal or plain areas, including stories and traditions of the rotation of rulers in the Lambayeque valley and what happened to descendants of the ruling class there. Alas, we do not have anything akin to a detailed chronicle of Chimu or the coastal dynasties, but it shows how the power emanating from the coast was growing at the same time as that of the Incas in Cuzco. Migration to and fro between the coast and the highlands has also been an ongoing factor that must have impacted the relationship between yungas and highlanders in many ways not explored in this chronicle.

Even in his account of the rise of the Inca rulers at Cuzco, Cabello de Balboa differs from others. The early Inca rulers, as one might surmise, left Pacaritambo but it took generations before their power was felt beyond the Cuzco valley. With the rise of Pachacuti, the empire truly took shape. Hailed as a reformer, conqueror, able administrator, and the man who dethroned his father, our chronicler seems to mix him up with his son, Topa Inca. The familiar story of the rise of the Incas under these two into a formidable empire is here, but one gets a sense of just how unstable things could be with the rapid growth of empire. For instance, a plot against Topa Inca by his brother, Topa Capac, threatened the former's reign. Succession crises were also common, as Topa Inca was said to have preferred his bastard son, Capac Guari, to succeed. However, Huayna Capac and his mother resisted this move and went so far as to accuse the mother of the bastard heir of poisoning Topa Inca! Even regents could be a threat to young rulers, as Huayna Capac's regent, Apoc-Gualpaya, sought to seize the throne from him, too! Even during his campaigns against the Caranguis, the orejones warriors revolted due to their poor treatment by Huayna Capac after their shameful retreat. It required the miraculous story of the mother of Huayna Capac's speech and intervention (plus generous gifts and supplies of food from Huayna Capac) to restore the loyalty of orejon troops. One might add that these were troops from Cuzco, too, not warriors gathered from the provinces. In light of the fratricidal conflict between Atahualpa and Huascar on the eve of the Spanish conquest, it was perhaps very common for conflict over succession or the throne to occur in a context where the Empire grew so rapidly over a short century. 

The rest of Cabello Balboa's observations on the Incas are occasionally interesting. Thrusting a love story here or there, for example, might be an example of how his Inca informants combined engaging personal narratives with history. He also was very negative in his evaluation of Huascar. The latter is depicted as a brutal tyrant without any real military leadership ability. Atahualpa, on the other hand, gives a stirring speech in which he justifies his conflict over the throne as a defense of the rights of his supporters. Atahualpa's troops committed atrocities too, yet Cabello de Balboa's chronicle (or his sources) appear to have been pro-Atahualpa. Some of the other observations made in the chronicle are a reference to the use of khipu to "record" a will (the testament of Huayna Capac) and the maritime voyages of Topa Inca to two mysterious islands in the Pacific.

Hispaniola's Indigenous Child Population (c.1514)

Using the total numbers in Arranz Marquez's breakdown of the 1514 repartimiento of Hispaniola, one can easily find numbers for the child population of the island. According to Arranz Marquez, only 6.1% out of the total population of 26,189 were children (1,600). Out of that Indian child population, slightly over 1/3 were assigned to encomenderos in the Santo Domingo region. This was followed by La Conception, San Juan de la Maguana, and Santiago. Clearly, the indigenous population of the island was not prospering since most areas had very small child populations. However, one must keep in mind that the Indians enumerated in 1514 were not the total population of the island. Thus, many areas probably contained hidden communities whose members are not likely counted here. Nonetheless, it is interesting to note how the only areas with sizable (around 100 or more) child populations in western Hispaniola were Salvatierra de la Sabana and Vera Paz, areas built on the ruins of the cacicazgos of Xaragua and Hanyguayaba. Xaragua likely once held a much larger proportion of the indigenous population of the island in 1492. Indeed, it may have even grown demographically before its conquest as some Indians from the eastern part of the island may have sought refuge there before Ovando destroyed it. 

Hanyguayaba Cacicazgo

One area we wish to learn more about is the Hanyguayaba Cacicazgo of Haiti's Southwest. An important node near the "anus" of the living animal that was Hispaniola (in the mind of the island's native populations), our only detailed references to it are a few allusions in the Spanish chronicles and encomienda records. However, we know the plain of Les Cayes was an attractive area of settlement due to the fertility of its land. Indeed, the numbers from Arranz Marquez's study (the source of the table) of the 1514 repartimiento of Hispaniola suggest the area once had a substantial Indigenous population. In fact, the number of enumerated Indians here (835) exceeded that of Vera Paz (built near the ruins of Xaragua's capital). Of all the Spanish settlements in what is now Haiti, only Yaquimo had a larger population of Indians, but only slightly more than Salvatierra de la Sabana. Of course, the numbers reflected here in 1514-1515 are not necessarily very reliable for what population patterns were like before 1492. Indeed, it is likely that the area of Salvatierra de la Sabana may have experienced less population displacement or relocation since it was so far away from centers of gold mining. 

From the little one can glimpse of Hanyguayaba from reading Las Casas, the area was ruled by a powerful cacique who acted as an independent lord due to the distance from Xaragua. Like Xaragua, this cacicazgo was also destroyed after Ovando ordered the destruction of Xaragua. Indeed, Diego Velazquez, the future conqueror of Cuba, had Hanyguayaba's paramount cacique hung. Since the area still had a larger Indian population in 1514, and Las Casas might be more reliable than Oviedo here (the latter, as well as Peter Martyr d'Anghiera, believed that cave-dwelling or hunter-gatherer "primitives" still resided in Haiti's Southwest), we suspect the Hanyguayaba cacicazgo was once a prosperous area. The elusive "primitive" population described in Spanish records was likely fugitives from the destruction of the cacicazgo who sought to maintain their autonomy from the Spanish settlements at Salvatierra de la Sabana. 

However, one cannot help but notice that some of the caciques (and their subjects given in encomiendas) were rather large groups, with Diego de Matute leading a group of 86. Even more striking is the rather large child population for Indians in this part of what later became the country of Haiti. In the Southwest, about 95 out of 835 Indians were children, or about 11% of the total population. This is a far higher proportion of children than any other area of western Hispaniola. The only other areas in western Hispaniola that even come close to this proportion of children were Yaquimo (6%), La Vera Paz (8%) and Puerto Real (6%). Of course, if one assumes the 715 adults of child-bearing age were evenly split between men and women (which is likely a false assumption), there may have been around 358 women in this part of the island in 1514. If there were only 95 children, that means there were only 0.26 children per woman, far below what would have been necessary to sustain population increase. The only parts of the island where one could have found more children was in the eastern half, where the majority of the island's population was already shifted to by 1514. For example, San Juan de la Maguana may have had about 0.24 children per woman, slightly fewer than Salvatierra de la Sabana. On the other hand, the Santo Domingo region had 520 children, slightly more than a third of the entire enumerated child population. However, for western Hispaniola, more than 1/3 of its share of the total child population lived in the Salvatierra de la Sabana area/Southwest. 

Talking Taino Thoughts

Keegan and Carlson's Talking Taino is an entertaining collection of essays exploring (Lucayan) Taino culture and civilization through language and natural history. The informal and occasionally humorous writing makes it quite a breeze to read. The authors both draw on their experience with archaeology of the Caribbean to give the reader a general overview of the Taino and Caribbean precolonial history. Sadly, some of the words they propose as Taino appear to be from other languages or, in the case of areito, misspelled. Nonetheless, their fun, easygoing approach covers the material culture, diet, agricultural and hunting practices, as well as religious and cultural practices of the Taino. It would be great to build on this with a more detailed study of Hispaniola, Cuba and Puerto Rico, where one has more written sources to use for reconstructing our pre-Hispanic past. 

Atabey, Yucayequey, Caney

Gilbert Valme's Atabey, Yucayequey, Caney is an intriguing yet somewhat meandering work. Since we are always interested in what Haitian intellectuals have to say about our island's indigenous past, we read it all, despite the unnecessary passages on paysages culturels or the occasionally misleading reference to pre-Arawakan peoples in Hispaniola as "ancestors of the Mayas." While a Central American provenience for some of these populations is a legitimate theory, consistently referring to them as sharing ancient ancestry with the Maya is a little misleading or awkward. Despite these missteps, Valme engaged in extensive research on the island of Haiti's hydrographic networks, water entrenchments, and engagement with archaeologists and academics who have researched the development of various pre-colonial cultures in Hispaniola.

Valme's study of the indigenous peoples of the island and how they related to their own cultural landscape through settlement patterns, domestic architecture, subsistence patterns, and political organization in simple and complex caciquats serves as a nice "refresher" on the scholarship of the "Taino"by 2012. Indeed, sometimes he draws from research we have not yet read ourselves. For instance, the possible location of Hatuey's principal village at Gros Morne (with around 15,000 residents) and high population estimates for the area suggest western Hispaniola likely held the largest concentrations of people in what were likely "proto-towns" or cities rather than simply villages. It is perhaps not wise to put too much stock in some of the population estimates for principal villages cited by Valme, but it would suggest 19,080 people lived at Guacanagaric's principal seat of En Bas Saline. One can imagine Xaragua, with its favorable location near lakes, rivers, and the sea, could have hosted an even larger concentration of people, too. The construction of large bateys at sites like En Bas Saline and Maguana also point to large population centers with intensive ritual activity related to the "Taino" cosmovision. This topic receives a lot of treatment here as it relates to the axis mundi concept, reflected in what Valme refers to as the poto mitan structure of the caney or bohios and the role of the batey itself as an axis mundi. 

What strikes us as particularly confusing, however, is Valme's allusion to Xaragua as a simple caciquat. Bainoa, however, was the "complex caciquat" which encompassed Xaragua and other simple caciquats in western Hispaniola. This is a rather confusing interpretation that reflects the author's best efforts to make sense of the conflicting Spanish sources on the political divisions of the island in 1492. Either way, by the late 1400s, Xaragua was undoubtedly the most powerful or influential caciquat in Bainoa (and probably the entire island). The caciquat was even expansionist in terms of the island's southwest corner, although we will likely never know the exact borders between cacicazgos or how their dimensions probably changed based on the power of various paramount caciques.

Reading Inca History

Catherine Julien's Reading Inca History is a work we rather struggled to complete. Due to our difficulties finding physical copies and the time to read, in full, Cabello Valboa and Murua (as well as a few of the hard to find Spanish chronicles), we were unsure how to tackle Julien's work. Her study of Inca historical consciousness and how it manifested in the sources used by the Spanish historical narratives or chronicles is fascinating, but does require a fuller familiarity with more of the Spanish sources. Nonetheless, Julien constructed an intriguing account of how Inca dynastic genealogy and life history of Inca rulers like Pachacuti were major sources of information used by the Spanish chroniclers. Tied to the panacas or descent groups of the Inca, mummies, songs, traditions, and even khipu were all part of the historical records of the Inca past. The use of paintings, ushered by Pachacuti, further establishes his central role in the development of Inca historical consciousness. 

Undoubtedly, an Inca historical consciousness existed. However, it was significantly changed or codified beginning with the reign of Pachacuti. Once Inca imperial expansion began, the need arose to establish descend from the patrilineage of Manco Capac and his sister (though sister marriage was not clearly established until much later) as the elite, power-holding group allegedly descended from the Sun. Using the Spanish chronicles and how they differ or share details about the early Inca past and the peoples of the Cuzco valley, Julien uncovers some hints at how the Incas were, at the beginning, just one of many groups in the Cuzco valley and their rulers engaged in marriage alliances with neighboring groups who even shared descent (or claimed it) from Pacaritambo and the Ayar brothers. But, with the expansion of Inca power and the need for a select group to consolidate its position, history and ritual were used to confer kingship to descendants from a more restricted kinship group that no longer had to rely so extensively on marriage alliances or acknowledge its shared origins with other groups in the valley. While much of the Inca source material that shaped the Spanish chronicles is still obscure, it is clear that historicist approaches to said Spanish chronicles can still be used to gain deeper glimpses of how the Inca constructed their own understanding of their past. The "mythic" elements and aspects that can perhaps be contextualized in the conflict between panacas or the growth of Christian influences on Andean belief may still reveal something of this historical consciousness that has been omitted or forgotten. 

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.