Astronomy and Empire in the Ancient Andes: The Cultural Origins of Inca Sky Watching

Reading Bauer and Dearborn on astronomy in the Inca Empire was somewhat disappointing. But, it sounds like Zuidema's theories about Inca astronomy, the Inca calendar, and astronomical significance of the ceque system of Cuzco is not supported by archaeological evidence...nor is it always backed by the written sources from the 1500s-1600s. But Bauer and the other author here have little to say otherwise given the limited nature of the sources and the difficult of confirming it through astronomical observations of sites in the Cuzco area. However, they think the Inca calendar was a solar and lunar one with an additional intercalated lunar one to align them. Unfortunately, the authors were unable to locate any evidence from sites in the Cuzco valley for observatories or markers for star observation, but the evidence for pillar markers for solar observations and the solstices is evident, although the pillars themselves have not survived the looting of Cuzco sites or time. The Pleiades were also very important in Inca and Andean sky watching but there's so much in the book that is just lightly suggested or said to be plausible yet impossible to be certain given the lack of ethnographic, textual, or archaeological sources. I guess they lean in favor of a 1528 death for Huayna Capac based on known comets and astronomical phenomena of the 1520s. It is unfortunate, although one must agree with the contention of the authors that astronomy and the ritual calendar must have been centralized and standardized by the Inca imperial administration with the aid of khipus. This would have strengthened the claims to power and legitimacy via descent from the Sun by the Inca ruling elites across the Andes. 

Taino Cultural Legacies in the Greater Antilles (AI)

 The Taino peoples, indigenous to the Greater Antilles, have long been described as extinct, a vanished people swept away by colonization, disease, and slavery in the early 1500s. Yet, as the blog Dream Variants emphasizes, the legacies of Taino life are deeply embedded in Caribbean culture. From farming practices to language, and from mythology to modern identity politics, the Taino remain central to understanding Caribbean history and culture.

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Persistence Beyond Extinction

Colonial records and later scholarship often portrayed the Taino as disappearing by the mid-1500s. However, as Dream Variants points out, archival evidence shows that thousands of “Indios” continued to live in Hispaniola into the mid-16th century, forming hidden communities and blending into broader colonial society (Dream Variants 2023a). This survival complicates the “extinction” narrative and explains why cultural and even genetic traces of the Taino endure in modern Caribbean populations.

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Agrarian and Genetic Echoes

The persistence of Taino culture is especially visible in agrarian systems. For instance, cassava mound cultivation, a key feature of Taino subsistence, remains part of rural farming practice in parts of the Dominican Republic, Haiti, and Puerto Rico. As Dream Variants suggests, these techniques were not just practical but cultural inheritances, reflecting deep continuity with indigenous lifeways (Dream Variants 2020a). Genetic research adds further nuance: many Caribbeans today retain small but measurable traces of indigenous ancestry, confirming that survival was both cultural and biological.

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Myth, Ritual, and Expressions of Identity

Taino mythology has also left deep marks on Caribbean cultural identity. The Dream Variants blog highlights parallels between Taino myths—such as those of creation, twins, and deluge—and broader South American and Mesoamerican traditions, suggesting shared roots across Indigenous America (Dream Variants 2023b). In the present, neo-Taino movements use ritual, performance, and symbolic art to reclaim these myths and reassert indigeneity. These cultural revivals transform Taino legacies into acts of identity and resistance in postcolonial societies.

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Language and Social Structure

Taino words remain embedded in Caribbean Spanish and English: hurricane, canoe, hammock, guava, and barbecue are just a few examples. More importantly, terms like nitaino—originally describing a social rank—continue to offer insight into pre-Columbian social structures (Dream Variants 2024). Scholars and cultural activists alike emphasize that the Taino had complex social hierarchies and artistic traditions, challenging early colonial depictions of them as “simple” or “childlike” peoples.

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Conclusion

The Taino cultural legacy in the Caribbean is not confined to archaeology or museums—it is alive in farming practices, foodways, language, mythology, and cultural identity. The Dream Variants blog reminds us that while colonial violence attempted to erase the Taino, their legacies persist across time, shaping how Caribbeans understand themselves and their histories. To see the Caribbean fully is to recognize the persistence of the Taino in both memory and daily life.

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Bibliography

Dream Variants. 2020a. Brief Thoughts on Taino DNA and Cultural Continuity. October 2020. https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2020/10/brief-thoughts-on-taino-dna-and.html

Dream Variants. 2023a. Taino Legacy in Hispaniola. April 2023. https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2023/04/taino-legacy-in-hispaniola.html

Dream Variants. 2023b. Art, Mythology, Taino and Central America. October 2023. https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2023/10/art-mythology-taino-and-central-america.html

Dream Variants. 2024. Notes on Taino Social Terms and Structures. 2024. https://thedreamvariation.blogspot.com/2024

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.