Esperanza: An Ethnographic Study of a Peasant Community in Puerto Rico

Carlos Buitrago Ortiz's ethnographic study of the rural population of Esperanza, Puerto Rico is a detailed study of kinship and its ramifications across various facets of social life. Based on fieldwork conducted in the region during the 1960s, during a phase of great change due to emigration, the work captures a rural Puerto Rico that was already losing its "traditional" character. Nonetheless, the barrio of Esperanza's population was still predominantly poor and relied on Arecibo, San Juan or the United States for a variety of services, access to work, or representatives of church and state. Most of the residents also claimed to embody or still adhere to traditional values of Esperanza before large-scale emigration's impact. In addition, most of its population continued to value kinship and affinal ties, compadrazco relations, and defined itself based on communal values in opposition to those of the state. 

For our purposes, this ethnography does not reveal much about the indigenous inheritance of the rural population. Perhaps this is due to the specific barrio in question having substantial or conspicuous ancestry traceable to the Canary Islands. Indeed, Buitrago Ortiz himself stresses the Hispanic and Mediterranean features of rural Puerto Ricans. Like those other communities, the people of Esperanza lived in a culture in which males completely controlled the public sphere, women were to remain in the domestic sphere, and to become an adult male signified marriage with children. In other words, to become a full adult male member of the community, one must marry, (eventually) live on one's own in a separate household, and have children. Strict gender roles were commonly observed and adhered to across classes. For those unable to reach this ideal, a common-law union or consensual union was accepted as long as both parties stuck to the expected gender roles. However, the preference was on a marriage through the church. Furthermore, the male was always expected to be the provider and care for his wife and dependents, laboring on his own land or for wages to provide a house, food, and supplies for the family. 

Undoubtedly, the very Hispanic and Mediterranean aspects of Puerto Rican culture represented a sharp contrast with those of pre-Hispanic populations on the island. Nonetheless, some elements of continuity may be observable in religion, spirituality, and popular belief. It is possible that the importance of bilateral kinship ties among the people of Esperanza can also be a remnant of indigenous and African heritage. In addition, the practice of inheritance in which all children inherit equally could potentially have non-Hispanic origins or influences. Compadrazo ties created between adult males of usually equal status may be an additional example of African and indigenous legacies as well as the obvious Catholic and Hispanic heritage. 

Overall, the indigenous elements are probably best expressed in religion and spirituality. For instance, the practice of vigils organized in honor of saints after a vow to the saint for aiding one included sacred and secular phases. The vigils included secular moments with men drinking alcohol, women and children enjoying soft drinks, and the serving of coffee, cheese and crackers. Vigils lasted all night and included prayer with rosaries. The close connection with a saint for their intercession on the behalf of someone who suffered from illness, debt or an accident has obvious Catholic overtones. But one may also detect indigenous and African influences through the possible substitution of cemis with saints, the Virgin, or even Jesus Christ. The vigils could become a tradition, organized annually several years after the initial promesa or vow to the saint. In addition, wakes for vigils for the dead similarly combine sacred and secular phases. According to Buitrago Ortiz, vigils included music of the type typical of rural Puerto Rico, meaning indigenous influences were likely found. The fusion of sacred and secular in an affair open to the community brings to mind Taino areitos, with their collective or communal focus.

Besides the custom of vigils, the countryside population also engaged the services of spiritualist mediums and made promesas to the saints. Saints were represented by santos de palo, or wooden figures, and often passed down for generations. These wooden figures of the saints were associated with saints who received the promises or vows of those seeking their intercession. The curative powers of these saints made them important for healing practices. Curanderos, such as Menelao, combined the chanting of prayers while manipulating or massing limbs to cure his patients. This brings to mind the curing practices of behiques of the indigenous period, who probably also used chanting and moving of the arms and legs (in addition to stones and other practices) to cure patients. Last but certainly not least, an element of indigenous beliefs likely persisted as the rural population believed in ghosts, wandering souls, and apparitions. Certain areas at night were avoided due to the fear of ghosts, just as the indigenes of Hispaniola were afraid of walking around at night due to the opias.

While Buitrago Ortiz's ethnography is more revealing of Hispanic and Mediterranean features in the culture of Puerto Rico, one can still detect indigenous (and African) characteristics. Although not the focus of the study, and perhaps the area in question was more influenced by Canary Islanders, indigenous features in rural Puerto Rican spirituality, devotion of the saints, and the healing traditions of curanderos. Future research on this theme could possibly uncover far more indigenous "retentions" if healers like Menelao were the focus of study. Moreover, bringing the question of race into social relations could have possibly led to some interesting insights on social stratification and lineage.

History of the Incas

Bernabe Cobo's History of the Inca Empire, translated by Roland Hamilton, includes an introduction by Rowe praising the author. According to Rowe and Hamilton, the Jesuit Cobo, though writing in the 17th century and mainly relying on older chronicles, exhibited greater discernment and judgment in his interpretation of the sources. In addition, Cobo also lived for several years in Peru and was able to personally witness the ruins of Inca buildings and discuss related matters with Cuzco informants, such as Alonso, a grandson of Guayna Capac. The longevity of his stay in Peru and his access to several earlier chronicles, including some which have not survived, make Cobo one of the great synthesizers of the Spanish chronicle historiography on the Incas. However, he seems to have especially relied on Polo de Ondegardo, so we will have to consult his works later. 

However, the first part of the text is mainly about the indigenous peoples of the Americas, including lengthy sections on why Peru was not Ophir and why the ancient Hebrews were not the populators of the Americas. Furthermore, Cobo spent several pages describing the allegedly barbaric and backwards customs of the Indians, clearly reflecting a colonialist and Catholic perspective on the Indians. To his credit, despite the alleged similarities across the entirety of the Americas in terms of barbaric customs and similar features, Cobo at least acknowledged 3 different types of Indian communities or polities. Those of the behetrias lived without caciques, those of an intermediate level who did possess caciques and some degree of political centralization beyond a community level (like our Indians of Hispaniola and the nearby Antilles), and then the third stage, achieved by the Aztecs, Incas, and the Muiscas. However, these last three, despite their superior stage of civilization, remained barbarians. 

Part of Cobo's colonialist and anti-Indian bias also appears near the end of his description of the Inca rulers, portraying their reign as one of pure tyranny and unceasing exploitation of their subjects. The Inca ruling class, according to Cobo, prevented their subjects from owning their own land or possessions, imposed heavy labor tribute obligations, imposed heavier punishments for commoners, seized children for sacrifices to the huacas, and otherwise oppressed their subjects to be even more oppressive than the colonial regime. Of course, Cobo's also admitted that the Inca rulers did try to ensure their subjects were able to live at least at a subsistence level and that their practice of relocating communities to new provinces usually aimed at resettling them in areas with similar environments. Nonetheless, Cobo's colonial and Christian biases perhaps forced him to portray the Incas as despots and cruel pagans. Fortunately, did not prevent him from occasionally expressing admiration for their achievements in other fields. Architecture, textiles, mining, the accuracy of khipu records, the effectiveness of Inca postal services and roads, and the rulers' successes in creating an orderly system across a huge swath of South America warranted praise from the biased Cobo.

What is particularly useful in Cobo's relatively scientific or rationalist approach to the study of Inca history is his judicious judgment of Inca history. According to him, the history of the Incas (and most Indians) probably reached back no further than around 400 years. In addition, unlike El Inca Garcilaso, Cobo did not claim that all Inca rulers married their sisters, a custom which more likely arose among later kings, beginning with Tupa Inca Yupanqui. Moreover, Cobo's account includes references to several moments of rebellions and conflict within the Inca aristocracy. For example, conflict between the ruler and "bastard" brothers over the throne occurred more often than El Inca Garcilaso indicated. The greater ruler Pachacutic, for instance, had to have a brother, Inca Urco, murdered for trying to rebel. Guayana Capac also had to defeat a usurper supported by his uncle, Gualpaya. Even more disastrous, the conflict between Atahualpa and Huascar for the throne involved military leaders who had participated in the conquest of the Quito provinces aligning themselves with the former. They believed Huascar, ruling from Cuzco, would have favored others over them and therefore offered their greater military experience to Atahualpa. In other words, conflict over the throne and internal discord were present among the Inca elites. Unsurprisingly, the Inca empire's instability was therefore a consistent problem. Imposing the worship of the Sun, Cuzco huacas and the incorporation of the huacas of other regions into the Cuzco-centered pantheon must have consolidated this sociopolitical system in which the administration was based on the labor tribute, or mita, of commoners while using curacas and others appointed to office or recognized by the Inca. Unfortunately, the intricate details of moments of threat to this order are not always clear, besides pivotal moments like the Chanca rebellion that nearly took Cuzco. 

As for the Incas and our ongoing obsession with the Taino, one sees more possible commonalities. The Taino cacicazos perhaps shared the similar revenue system, one in which subjects were expected to provide labor for caciques. Like the Peruvian example, the Spanish likely adopted or adapted aspects of this precolonial structure into the colonial encomienda system. The two also shared the similar practice of the rulers exchanging or gifting women, since the Inca was said to have gifted maidens to favorites or those who performed wondrous feats. Human sacrifice among the Taino has not been incontrovertibly proven, but both Tainos and Incas shared a similar veneration of the bones of ancestors. For the Taino, human bones and cranium could become cemis. Cobo also wrote of mummies of Inca rulers which had eyes made of thin golden cloth, such as that of Pachacutic. One wonders if this may have a similar connection with gold-encrusted eyes in duhos of Hispaniola. Last, but certainly not least, the use of duhos, a word not used by Peruvians, was an important symbol of chiefly authority. Indeed, the Inca gave duhos to caciques appointed by him. Just as duhos were symbols of chiefly power among the Taino, the Inca and caciques or curacas in Peru also used similar stools. 

Account of the Fables and Rites of the Incas

The translation of Cristobal de Molina's Account of the Fables and Rites of the Incas provides more interesting information on Inca rites and religious practices. Based on the testimony of elders in Cuzco, who recalled the customs of the empire in its later years, were interviewed by de Molina, who was a priest in Cuzco and master of the Quechua language. Of course, an immediate problem arises with this work. While he may have been fluent in the Quechua language, the fact that he was a priest and his main informants only represented the elite, does suggest that some omissions and bias likely influenced this short account of Inca religion and rites. Nonetheless, de Molina's expertise in indigenous languages and the fact that his description of, for example, rites like the initiation of young adult males can be corroborated elsewhere make him a reliable source.

For our purposes, however, the main interest in de Molina's description of Inca religion is some of the connections we see with other parts of South America, including Amazonian areas. Like other accounts of origin myths, one sees parallels with other Amerindian peoples through archetypes, such as origins in a a cave (Tambotoco at Pacaritambo). Like the Taino origin myths recorded by Pane, some people were also turned into stone. In addition, during the puma skin dance, Incas inserted gold into the heads of dead pumas that were worn. This brings to mind our past fanciful notion of a possible South American connection with the gold encrusted mouths of duhos from pre-Hispanic Hispaniola. The author, de Molina, also refers to healing practices and ritual fasts, something we have already noticed may have connections with other South American shamanistic practices and medicinal practices. Furthermore, the Inca ritual calendar and its link to imperial expansion may be illustrative of similar spread of cemis in the precolonial Antilles, at least in areas where some caciques were able to dominate several others. Naturally, the Inca state, for more expansive and centralized, developed this to a much greater extent. Indeed, the Capacocha sacrifices, which took place across and empire and were recorded with quipus, undoubtedly reflected the greater centralization of power and ritual in the Andes. 

Last but certainly not least, de Molina's brief description of the Taqui Onqoy millenarian movement warrants attention. Although he erroneously connected it with the last bastion of Inca resistance at Vilcabamba, the movement appears to have arisen independently. Moreover, it represented a shift in the tradition of the huacas, who now possessed Indians and urged them to fight and eradicate the Spanish. While in some ways a restorationist movement that threatened the colonial system, this novelty of spirit possession by the huacas raises several interesting questions. Was it due to the radical shift and demographic collapse caused by colonialism? Or, perhaps, was the belief in spirit possession by the huacas also influenced by European and African beliefs? This seems unlikely, but something we would like to pursue.  

Marie of the Natchez Nation

Although the fate of the Natchez who made it to Saint Domingue after being sold into slavery is not fully known, some of the survivors do appear in local records of the colony. One case, from the inventory of a deceased planter in 1737, Gilles Bourgouin, lists a Marie priced as 900 livres. This find comes from a Haitian genealogy group on social media, which occasionally shares interesting information, documents, and oral traditions. What is interesting about this case from 1737 is the identification of the enslaved Marie as being of the Natchez nation. She was likely part of the 164 Natchez brought to Le Cap in 1731. Was she a domestic on the habitation of Bourgouin? All we can say is that she was living in Saint Louis du Sud and was around 25 years old in 1737.

Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala's Chronicle

The partial English translation of Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala's massive chronicle, translated by Roland Hamilton, is a fascinating read. Although the entirety of the text is not available in English, Hamilton's translation covers the precolonial history of Peru as presented by an indigenous writer to the king of Spain. Unfortunately, the original text probably could have benefited from an editor, but the author bequeathed to posterity an unparalleled intellectual work of indigenous intellectual production in Peru, Latin America and the Americas. As part of the Catholic Indian elite, Guaman Poma's chronicle reflects the contradictory tendencies of colonial indigenous peoples with a foot in both the precolonial past and the colonial present. While he consistently criticized the Spanish colonial regime for its abuses of Indians and the spread of moral, sexual, and criminal vices brought by the Spanish, the author also sought to fix the precolonial past of the Incas into Biblical genealogies and history. 

The Inca, despite bearing responsibility for the spread of idolatry and worship of huacas across Peru, were also responsible for sound laws, a just social order, and a harmonious system in which people knew their place. Furthermore, Guaman Poma came from a provincial family, not Cuzco or the Inca royalty, like El Inca Garcilaso de la Vega. Thus, his view on the pre-conquest Peruvian imperial government reflects a provincial and Christian view of the indigenous past. While simultaneously praising Christianity and expressing admiration for the Spanish monarchy, our chronicler is also presenting the Inca as the upholders of a superior system of justice, despite their idolatry. This ambivalent position of Guaman Poma probably also reflected the interests of his social class as they sought to protect or pursue positions of authority in colonial Peru. By presenting the Inca imperial past as one with a more just arrangement of society, and exaggerating the importance of his own lineage within that system, Guaman Poma was undoubtedly arguing for more power for those like himself in colonial society.

According to Hamilton, the chronicle's structure was likely influenced by quipu, the system of recording information using strings and knots. The translator suggests that Guaman Poma's penchant for long lists to describe the emperors, queens, nobility, age divisions, social classes, and epochs was probably a product of the quipu system. Indeed, this is probably true, since Guaman Poma must have relied on both quipu and oral traditions to construct a narrative of the Inca past. Although this sometimes makes for rather dull reading, some amazing levels of details and narrative elaboration breathes life into ancient rulers and personages of Tawantinsuyu. Despite his own provincial and Catholic biases and the attempt to prolong the history of the Inca imperial line to encompass over 2000 years, Guaman Poma de Ayala's presentation of this past undoubtedly presents it as superior to the corruption and excessive exploitation of the colonial system. Unlike his contemporary society, the Incas suppressed crime, sexual excess and libertinage, promoted virginity and chaste living, protected the poor and disabled, and supported institutions like nunneries. In spite of their idolatry and the alleged origins of the Inca monarchs with a sorceress who married her son, aspects of this past were deemed superior to those of the colonial Spanish and were used for a scathing critique of the the Peru of the late 16th and early 17th centuries. Given the intended audience for Guaman Poma's chronicle, one wonders how he would have written the history of the Incas for local audiences and what a Blas Valera or El Inca Garcilaso would have made of him. 

And last but certainly not least, a possible connection to the Antilles may be evident in some of the customs of Indian populations described by Guaman Poma. Although he sometimes exaggerated the extent of the Inca Empire, even going so far as to claim Panama and Santo Domingo (Hispaniola) were part of it, one interesting custom of burying the dead with gold, silver and coca inserted into the mouth of the deceased stood out. Indeed, some of the most elaborate and precious precolonial Caribbean duhos or stools once featured gold-encrusted mouths. While only one specimen with the gold still intact survives, one wonders if the Taino practice of inserting gold into the mouth of zoomorphic or anthropomorphic faces of duhos could possibly be a remnant of a similar practice with the burial customs of some South American Indians? Instread of doing it for the dead, however, the Taino practiced the same custom for duhos, whose carved faces must have had some religious and spiritual connotations due to the use of duhos for cohoba ceremonies. 

Schoelcer and the Jibaro

One of the interesting contrasts in the French perception of the jibaro of Puerto Rican can be found in the works of Victor Schoelcher and Adolphe Granier de Cassagnac. Approaching the Caribbean from opposed perspectives on race and slavery, both shared a view of the jibaro as a biological and cultural mestizo with significant indigenous features. However, in the case of Schoelcher, the jibaro's bare subsistence and meager lifestyle demonstrated an example of non-black Caribbean populations languishing economically, socially and politically. In fact, Schoelcher actually visited peasant bohios and collected goods produced by them, meaning he was able to gather more information. Adolphe Granier de Cassagnac, on the other hand, wrote more impressionistically of Puerto Rico's jibaros. To him, they were mestizos who shared the general disdain of blacks found among the red-skinned races. In addition, they were excellent laborers and gladly hunted runaway slaves in the colony. The account of Schoelcher, undoubtedly based on more research and personal experiences with the free peasantry of Puerto Rico, was more perceptive about the nuances of race among the jibaros. After all, included among the jibaro were the pardos who shared a similar culture, suggesting that the free peasantry of partial Amerindian ancestry was very much one that also included people of African origins. Overall, Schoelcher, the abolitionist, probably saw in the racially mixed free population of Puerto Rico an example of non-black Antillean indolence. Indeed, Schoelcher apparently favored attempts by the Spanish governors of the island to coerce the jibaro to work, something similar to post-emancipation apprenticeship programs implemented elsewhere in the Caribbean. Nonetheless, the diametrically opposed interpretations of the jibaro from these two French authors, both writing in the 1840s, illustrates how the personal racial biases of the writer can lead to drastically different conclusions. 

Gods of the Andes

Sabine Hyland's translation of an important text by Blas Valera is very interesting for those interested in the Inca past. Blas Valera, a mestizo Jesuit, was a fervent believer in the study and use of indigenous languages to effectively serve and convert indigenous communities in Peru. Unfortunately, he perhaps went too far in the eyes of the Jesuit leadership and other religious orders. According to Hyland's introductory essay, Blas Valera was comparable to missionaries like Roberto Mobili, endorsing inculturation as the best path for converting people from different cultures. While this is not immediately apparent in this text, which mostly translates Relación de las costumbres antiguas de los naturales del Pirú. Essentially, Valera's pro-Indian views and his sympathetic portrayal of aspects of indigenous religion and spirituality were too heretical and eventually led to his incarceration and later removal to Spain. Sadly, much of his great manuscript on the history of Peru was lost during an English attack against Cadiz. But our old friend El Inca Garcilaso de la Vega, also a mestizo, found fragments of Valera's text and incorporated his data into the Los comentarios reales. 

The connection with El Inca Garcilaso is where Valera's influence seems especially profound. Although El Inca was from the old Cuzco elite via his mother's family, and could draw on oral history gathered through these relatives, Blas Valera had traveled across the colony and was able to gather information and observations from a variety of communities. Like El Inca, he was also a fluent speaker of Quechua but was able to use his linguistic skills to work among more indigenous communities. After reading the brief text translated here by Hyland, it becomes immediately apparent that much of the framework adopted by El Inca Garcilaso was based on Valera. Like Valera, he stressed the absence of human sacrifice in Inca religion and praised the strict laws and benevolent justice of the Inca imperial system. Moreover, Garcilaso also saw aspects of Christianity in Inca belief, almost portraying the indigenous religion as establishing the path for the true religion of Christianity brought by the conquest. This can be seen in the way Garcilaso stressed the sun cult as the main religion of the Inca, which was heavily supported and/or imposed across the Empire. One can see elements of a similar admiration of Andean religious beliefs in Blas Valera, who, despite the various superstitions and idolatries of the natives, also found admirable qualities such as the practice of making confessions and the various convents for nuns, or aclla. Of course, the two authors differed on the case of Atahuallpa, with Valera praising him and El Inca seeing him as an illegitimate, violent ruler who eradicated many elites in Cuzco.

The main importance of Blas Valera, besides his detailed account of Andean religious beliefs as he saw in the late 16th century, was his careful use of khipus and oral traditions to construct a history of the Inca. Indeed, unlike El Inca Garcilaso, Valera referenced various khipu and specialists in their interpretation for data on religious and political history. Naturally, this meant khipu could be used to record more than numerical data for censuses or supplies. Indeed, Valera references them for the history of religious practices as well as the history of political rulers. Khipu, to him, were as valid as other sources of information, like written accounts in European languages or oral traditions as reported to him by indigenous people. Why, for instance, El Inca Garcilaso only saw khipu as useful for recording numerical data and occasionally as mnemonic devices for speeches, may have been based on the different experiences of the two mestizos. Furthermore, Garcilaso left Peru while still relatively young and admitted to not inquiring into certain customs whereas Valera spent more time in Peru. This must also have been a source for Valera on some of the events that transpired during the Incan imperial period as well as pre-Inca rulers. These khipu were able to record, for example, the disputation of Amaro Toco, an amauta from the era of Inca rule. They were also references for information on the history of the convents for virgins. If only Valera's magnum opus was not lost, perhaps there could be even more information on how khipu were used to record historical and biographical data.