Haiti, Guyane, Amerindiens

We are not avid followers of Haiti Inter, but they occasionally produce fascinating interviews with different figures from Haiti or its Diaspora. This video, which is probably misleading since at least half of it is really about Haitians and people of Haitian descent in La Guyane, caught our attention for its alleged focus on the Amerindian heritage of Haiti. Unfortunately, the guest does not truly explore that intriguing question of Haiti's Indian legacy. Instead, we are given what has become repeated narratives offered without any evidence. Thus, the veve of Haitian Vodou is said to be of Amerindian origin (no evidence provided for this), while words of Taino origin used in Haitian Creole are given as further examples without nuance or explanation. It's a shame Haitians (and people of Haitian descent) have not yet truly explored this interesting question of Taino legacies in Haiti. Moreover, I am not sure I would assume any close connection between the word Jaragua or Xaragua in Indigenous Haiti and the use of the toponym Jaragua in Tupi-Guarani languages of Brazil. There might be a connection, but we once thought it more likely that Xaragua in Haiti might be connected to Aragua in Venezuela (based on the way Aragua was spelled in one source from the 16th century).

Guateque Campesino

Whilst listening to old Cuban music, we came across yet another word supposedly derived from an indigenous language. Used in Cuban and Antillean Spanish, guateque seems to refer to house parties or dances. Checking bilingual or trilingual dictionaries for Garifuna, Lokono, Palikur, and Breton, we could not find any word similar to guateque. The term might be derived from another indigenous language. In Garifuna, Lokono, and Palikur, we found words for dance, but nothing quite specific as a "house party." In the Garifuna tongue, a dance is called abinahani and a party might be translated as fedu. In Palikur, dance is kay but a dancer is called kaykevutne. In Arawak of Guyana, dance is ibini, clearly similar to the Garifuna word. We wonder if there is any relation between the Palikur words for dance and dancer and possible Taino equivalents.

Sociedad y economía de los Taínos

Francisco Moscoso's Sociedad y economía de los Taínos contains two essays on Taino society and agriculture. As one might expect, it treads familiar territory in terms of Moscoso's past scholarship on the development of precolonial societies in the Antilles. Drawing from chronicles, archival documents, archaeological studies, and theoretical premises of changes in the mode of production and social relations, Moscoso argues quite persuasively for a "tribal-tributary" mode for the Taino cacicazgo by 1000 CE. This was a transitional stage to a class-based society that was interrupted by the Spanish conquest. Moscoso applies this understanding to the entire history of humans in the Caribbean, starting with bands, moving to tribes, and culminating with the chiefdoms known as cacicazgos with more division of labor, hereditary elites (caciques, nitainos, behiques), and regular surpluses through conuco agriculture. This was, at least in Azua, Jaragua, and Maguana, supplemented by irrigation projects and possibly hydraulic works that facilitated agriculture in parts of Haiti which suffered from less rainfall. Indeed, Moscoso even cites a 1495 document by Columbus on the existence of acequias in Maguana. Although it is uncertain, it is likely that similar irrigation practices existed in Puerto Rico, Cuba and possibly Jamaica, too. 

The second essay included in the volume focuses on agriculture, and regularly draws from Oviedo, Las Casas, and other ethnographic sources on societies at similar stages of development. The various uses, applications, and varieties of crops, plants, fruits, and wood utilized by the Taino cacicazgo societies exhibit a highly developed understanding of their local environments. Both essays similarly stress Moscoso's argument about the tribal-tributary stage reached by cacicazgos and the central importace of regular surpluses. Using Las Casas and other sources, one can reach possibly accurate estimates of yuca production (but not other crops cultivated by the Tainos) that suggest high population levels. Thus, Moscoso estimated that Xaragua could have had 30,000-40,000 inhabitants (assuming Behechio and the 32 caciques under his order each led aldeas with the minimum number of inhabitants suggested by Las Casas (1000 people). Similarly, Serrano, one of the old conquistadors interviewed in 1517 by the Hieronymites, reported that the grand caciques held under their control 30,000, 40,000 or 50,000 naborias. And given the role of the cacique in ordering the type of labor to be done by naborias and their role in determining the redistribution of said surplus, the dominant 'class' developed a complex ideology that justified the control of caciques and nitainos. 

Reine Anacaona

I am unsure about the source of this clip, but I found it interesting as one of the more serious Haitian videos on the island's indigenous past. It's designed to be short, simple, and respectful of the "Taino" past on Haiti. There are some issues or areas that undoubtedly require more updated information and nuance (like the population of the island in 1492 or the question of gender relations), but this is interesting. I'd love to see a serious source for the claim of some of the population sizes of villages or towns, too. 

Indian Division...

One thing that requires further study is the indigenous division in the Dominican form of Vodou. Apparently absent in Haiti, the existence of an entire division of spirits associated with the indigenous past of Hispaniola (and water) is interesting for what it may suggest about indigenous Taino spirituality surviving today. The few writings we have found on it are the work of Carlos Esteban Deive on Dominican Vodou, Martha Ellen Davis's work, and an article by Geo. Ripley. Additional mentions of indigenous features in Dominican spirituality and religious practice can be found in Lundius and Lundahl's study of the Palma Sola movement as well as Jana Pesoutova's Indigenous Ancestors and Healing Landscapes. Undoubtedly, additional works exist, but of varying quality and often difficult to locate. As for the appearance of Indian spirits in Haitian Vodou, the only account we know of is a short article by Odette Roy Fombrun of questionable reliability. 

From Deive's account, the Indian Division included spirits or luases like Agalla Dulce, India de Agua Azul, Caonabo, Cayacoa, Enriquillo, Guaroa, Hatuey, Mencia, Hacuai Danto, Guarionex, Carmela, Carmelina Dansoleil, Guacanagarix, Tamayo and a chief of the division, Gamao. Obviously, several of these were caciques of Hispaniola at the time of Spanish arrival or early resisters to the encomienda system and colonial oppression (Enriquillo, Tamayo). Intriguingly, at least one has a name of Haitian Creole origin and a few appear to be linked to water (Agua Azul) or perhaps places or springs. Agalla Dulce, intriguingly, brings to mind a possible etymology of the word cemi, linking it to the concept of sweetness. However, the vast majority of the spirits listed here are "deified" historical persons. A similar concept can be found in Haitian Vodou, which includes Dessalines as a lwa (not to mention the West African origins of some spirits, which can be traced to figures who were deified in the past (Chango, or Shango, anyone?). 

What about Davis, the author of La Otra ciencia? According to Davis, the Indian Division emphasizes water and has an ecological aspect that may reflect animistic influences. She further specified that in the capital, Santo Domingo, historic caciques were worshipped, like Anacaona. In this case, the service to cacique/lwa was akin to the appearance of Indians in Espiritismo. In the Southwest of the Dominican, in areas like San Juan de la Maguana, more Indian spirits can be found, yet they are not, from what we can tell, caciques. Davis's view here finds further support from Pesoutova's work, which emphasizes traditions of Indian spirits in locales like Banica or in the San Juan de la Maguana region. It would seem that two distinct traditions of Indian spirits exist here, if Davis is correct. 

What about the Indian Division according to Lundahl and Lundius? They mentioned the leader of the Indian Division in Dominican Vodou as a spirit called Tinyó, or Gamao. Interestingly, he also has a name of Creole origin, Le Gran Solei, and a chromolithograph of St. Nicolas of Bari is used for him. They additionally specify the importance of Indian spirits in the Dominican Southwest, particularly in the valley of San Juan de la Maguana. This includes practices associated with the large Corral de Los Indios as well as rites and rituals tied to the memory of Caonabo and Anacaona. One particular spot in this area of the country, La Agüita, was associated with St. John the Baptist and a number of Indian spirits. Again, there is an association with water (here believed to have healing properties) and Indian spirits, as well as syncretism with Catholic and African beliefs. 

Although much more research remains to be done on the Indian Division, it does seem to reflect a mix of old, animistic properties and belief in spirits tied to Dominican folk belief (and pre-Columbian religion). The appearance of lwa named after historic caciques might be the result of a mixture of Vodou, Espiritismo, and Dominican folk belief, perhaps explaining why it was more evident in the area of the capital, according to Davis. Either way, if Ripley, who included a ceremonial song for the Indian Division in a short essay, is believed, "Indio soy, vivo en el monte huyendo porque los españoles me van siguiendo." The Indian as ancestor, symbol, and spirit is clearly relevant today in the Dominican Republic. 

Constitutions et luttes de pouvoir en Haiti (Tome I)

Although we have only read the first time of Claude Moise's Constitutions et luttes de pouvoir en Haiti, it is enough to understand to a greater extent the intermittent political crises that negatively impacted the country from 1804-1915. Viewing the endless battles and conflicts for political power between different branches, clans, and regional elites since the birth of Haitian independence until the US Occupation through the conflict over constitutions to legitimize various regimes illustrates more clearly the impasse the Haitian political system had reached by 1915. Since each constitution was instituted either to deny power to another branch of the elite and legitimize their own seizure of power, there was a constant danger of political intrigue, coups, and revolutions to unseat the incumbent president/Executive and restore governmental legitimacy. Of course, the source of real power in the country was the Executive, and his power came from the military who administered the provinces as commandants. Thus, regardless of any constitutional innovations to protect civil government and individual liberties, all were at risk of arbitrary and despotic presidents (or, in the case of Dessalines, Soulouque, and Christophe, emperors and kings) who had to rely on the military as the main source of authority (as well as preserving public security). 

However, as Moise's masterful study reveals, there were a number of occasions in which branches of the political elite sought to institute a truly liberal, democratic state with more power to civil authorities. The first, the 1843 Constitution, was never truly implemented as Riviere Herard was unseated and the country's elite fell back on Guerrier and Riche to neutralize the threat of the Piquets. Here, unfortunately, Moise's analysis does not extend deeper into exploring how the Piquets themselves wanted to reconstitute the state, but he is certainly correct that most of the Haitian political elite banded together to prevent any real seizure of power from the lower classes. This included military repression, government appointments to Piquet leaders and the return to "presidentialism" to protect public security. After ending the Piquet threat, the political elites, both of the "mulatto" and "noir" branches, proceeded to implement other constitutions, such as that of 1846 and 1867. The Executive branch was severely weakened in the 1870s through the rise of the Liberals and Boyer-Bazelais, who favored a government dominated by the Legislative branch. Nonetheless, their favored constitution and governmental system, designed to weaken the Executive, was impractical as there was no real constitutional solution to conflict between the Executive and Legislative bodies. 

Furthermore, the Liberals, according to Moise, lacked deeper alliances with the real source of power in the country, the military leaders, and were thus severely weakened once the inevitable return of conflict over power returned in 1879 and beyond. Intriguingly, their regime did work well under Saget and Boisrond-Canal, although the exceptional circumstances and character of those men favored the longevity of this inherently unworkable system. By the end of the era of Liberal hegemony, despotic, arbitrary regimes dominated by Presidents like Salomon (who in one letter, compared the demands of political power to African conditions), Hyppolite, and Nord Alexis became the norm. Even with the 1889 Constitution that survived until the US Occupation, each president relied on unconstitutional measures, arbitrary despotism, the military, and sometimes, outright terror, to remain in power or endeavor to control succession. 

Throughout the entire period, the conflict over power and various attempts to legitimize new regimes with legality through new constitutions was usually able to counteract any serious attempts at opening the political system or debate to the lower classes. A few exceptions occurred, however. And it is these exceptions that warrant additional attention, particularly the Piquets (who still await their historian, to paraphrase Moise), cacos, and the urban masses who supported Salnave. La foule was especially relevant during the terror of Soulouque and presumably supported, initially, Soulouque's rise to effective power and self-elevation to Emperor. In addition, the urban masses, such as the women, who rallied behind Salnave, must be analyzed for revealing the political ideology of the lower classes. The cacos in the Nord similarly warrant closer attention, although Moise seems predisposed to discount the idea of any real political debate or ideology motivating their actions in the decades leading to US Occupation. That said, it seems hard to image the cacos of the Nord completely lacking ideas about reform, even if they were doomed to fail. The challenge now is to reconstruct, to whatever extent possible, how the peasants, urban poor, and embryonic working-class envisioned a different political regime in Haiti.

Gulf of Darien...

If one searches through the parish registers digitized at ANOM's site for a while, one can sometimes detect generations of the same family. In this case, it appears to be that of 2 generations of "illegitimate" Indiens born in the Sud of Saint Domingue. The mother, Marie Anne, was baptized in 1759. Of her ethnic origin, we are told her mother was from the Gulf Darien.

However, by 1788, when Jean Antoine was baptized in Aquin, Marie Anne was apparently no longer residing in Torbeck. Indeed, the baptismal record of her son suggests that an investigation into her origin was conducted, confirming Indian heritage. Yet, a look at the 1759 record of her baptism does not specify the ethnic origin of her father, just as the father of her son is unidentified. One wonders if these "Indiens" were more likely mestizos or mixed-race individuals. Of course, it is possible there was another Marie Anne of "Indian" origin who was the mother of Jean Antoine.