Cacica Catalina of Mayama

Although our descent from a man said to be of converso origins is through the Delgado Manso of Puerto Rico, he came to Hispaniola in 1514. The son of Diego Guillen and Mayor Gutierrez, he apparently, he enjoyed connections at court and was promised an encomienda. However, in the 1514 Repartimiento in the island, his name appears as one of the vecinos of Santo Domingo who received, in encomienda, 30 service Indians from the cacica Catalina of Mayama. In addition, ten naborias de casa were also assigned to Guillen. However, the same cacica Catalina de Mayama was also assigned to Gomez Diaz, which, if true, meant that Guillen had to share the 30 or so Indians with another vecino.

Guillen's daughter, Isabel, stayed on the island of Hispaniola. She married a Gonzalo de Guzman who first came to Hispaniola in 1502, with Ovando. However, Guzman had married Isabel with the expectation of a large dowry and access to more encomienda Indian labor. This did not materialize, although it does appear that Isabel father did indeed receive some Indians in the 1514 Repartimiento. According to Ida Altman, the daughter Isabel Malaber (Maraver) was the head of a poor household in the 1530s after her husband died. Her elderly father, Juan Guillen, was still alive, but the household also included mestizas, black slaves and an old Indian naboria women.

Although Altman believed Isabel Maraver possibly ended her days as a poor widow, it turns out she married a second time with Francisco Ruiz de Oviedo. References to her and this second husband can be found in Historia y Geografía Cuentas de las Cajas Reales de Santo Domingo 1544-1549. Now, our descent from Juan Guillen is via another daughter, Eufrasia Maraver. She came to Hispaniola in 1514 with her parents, but ended up in Puerto Rico as the wife of a Pedro Espinosa. According to research in the archives by Luis Burset Flores, the Delgado Manso family were descendants of Eufrasia Maraver through the Manso. Indeed, in 1568, a chubby Spanish soldier, Francisco Delgado, married Juana Manso de Espinosa, daughter of Alonso Díaz Manso and Isabel de Espinosa. Isabel de Espinosa, according to the sources cited by Burset Flores, was the daughter of Eufrasia Maraver, a child of Juan Guillen and Maria de Maraver.

Our descent from the Delgado Manso is actually the result of a descendant of this family marrying a woman of color in 1727. And while we are more interested in the African and indigenous contributions to the making of the Caribbean, it reveal how the events and places in the early Spanish Caribbean directly involved our ancestors, who came from all social classes. Some of our forebears, for instance, were living on Hispaniola during Enrique's revolt. Some, such as the father of Eufrasia Maraver, were apparently recipients of encomiendas in Hispaniola. Who was the cacica Catalina of Mayama? Presumably located somewhere not too far from Santo Domingo, what happened to the Indians? Were some of them among the mestizas and the old naboria living in Isabel Maraver's household in 1531? Was the cacica Catalina someone exercizing the position of cacica before the Spanish conquest or was her rise to power a result of the brutal Spanish invasion?

Jamaican Tainos

 

Chief Kalaan Nibonrix Kaiman of Maroon and indigenous descent speaks with Wendy Aris about what it means to be Taino in Jamaica today. Since ethnographic and genetic evidence does support the idea that some of the Maroons in Jamaica do indeed possess indigenous ancestry, it is interesting to watch an interview with an informed person with this heritage.

Prehistoric Haiti

Michel Aubourg's Haïti préhistorique: mémoire sur les cultures précolombiennes, Ciboney et Taino is too outdated and far too brief to offer much for modern researchers interested in the indigenous past of the island. Nonetheless, the first part of the text is a nice overview of the history of Haitian archaeology with copious references to studies by professional and amateur archaeologists. In fact, the major value of Aubourg's brief study is the overview of these past excavations and surveys. Many of the studies cited by Aubourg, unfortunately, are dated articles from the Bureau d'Ethnologie's bulletin (often too short) or other studies offering antiquated information and theories about the indigenous peoples of the Greater Antilles. However, the references to findings by archaeologists who reported Indian findings in areas such as La Gonave, Ile a Vache, the Artibonite Valley, Fort Liberte or other areas in the North are worthy of reading and deserve subsequent visits by archaeologists. For instance, the reports of ballcourts in Haiti and the possible archaeological proof of irrigation canals in Xaragua should be expanded upon to enhance our knowledge of indigenous cultures on the island. Alas, the second half of the text is a quick summary of Ciboney and Taino periods using a chronology based on that of Rouse. Much of the information is rather outdated, particularly with evidence of earlier ceramic traditions in the Archaic period in the Antilles. Still, the many references to sources on archaeological research in Haiti are of use, particularly for those interested in understanding the history of archaeology and the indigenous past in the development of Haitian ethnology. 

The Cacicazgos of Hispaniola

Bernardo Vega's Los cacicazgos de la Hispaniola raises a number of important questions about the political and geographic map of the island in late precolonial times. Arguing against the traditional narrative of Haiti and the Dominican Republic in which there were 5 cacicazgos, with borders conceived of or based on those described by Oviedo and Las Casas, Vega believes it is better to rely on the map of Andres Morales and the writings of Pedro Martyr. Although Las Casas first came to Hispaniola before Morales, who drew his map in 1508, he did not actually write in detail about the cacicazgos of the island until several decades later, when his advanced age led to errors. Oviedo, the other chronicler heavily relied upon for the history of the Taino cacicazgos and the idea of the 5 principal ones being Higuey, Marien, Magua, Maguana and Xaragua, however, came to the island in 1514 and was therefore only present several years after the Spanish conquest. Morales, on the other hand, was on the island during the time of Ovando and had traveled across the island. With his personal travels across Haiti, Morales was more likely to have accurately recorded the territorial divisions and geographical features that were used by the native population. Pedro Martyr, who relied on the map of Morales and interviews with him and other Spaniards who traveled to Hispaniola in the early days of the Spanish conquest, was able to transcribe Morales's information into the map and record for posterity the major provinces of the island. These five provinces included Bainoa, a large province which covered most of modern Haiti and included the Xaragua cacicazgo.

It is possible that, despite the lapses in the memory of Las Casas and the fact that the writings of his and those of Oviedo postdate the earlier work of Pedro Martyr, the traditional idea of the 5 paramount caciques whose territory did not align perfectly with that described in the map of Morales may be at least partially accurate. If the provinces described by Morales and Martyr, with their natural borders based on rivers, mountains, and other geographic provinces are not exact matches with the 5 dominant cacicazgos described by the other chroniclers, this may reflect a different interpretation by the natives of the island's political and territorial maps. Of course, we lack evidence for this, but we find it unlikely that the cacicazgos described by Las Casas and Oviedo as the dominant ones, did not have some large degree of territorial control which fluctuated over time and was not necessarily based on the borders and divisions of the provinces. Furthermore, the indigenous cosmology and view of the island's geography as described by Pedro Martyr suggests a magico-religious interpretation that may not have been meant to indicate the political divisions of cacicazgos. For example, if the far west of the island was the anus of an island conceived as a living being, with a cave considered to be the origin of the island's first people, perhaps there were other types of religious symbolism in the other provinces like Bainoa or Cayabo. 

In spite of our own reservations about Vega's conclusions, his use of the map of Morales plus that of other 16th century maps and surviving toponyms of Taino origin in Haiti and the Dominican Republic is rather impressive. His success in identifying about 90 percent of the places indicated in the map of Morales certainly fleshes out our understanding of the island's geography and indigenous toponyms. For example, Vega's theory of Xaragua's capital being located in the area of Port-au-Prince, probably directly north of Kenscoff, is intriguing. The river they relied upon for their irrigation canals, Camin (or Cami) identified as rio Blanco is certainly useful information for those interested in pursuing the specific history of Xaragua. Some of Vega's conclusions about the ciguayos is also worthy of consideration, although we find it highly unlikely that Caonabo was a Ciguayo. Furthermore, we find the notion of a cave-dwelling or primitive population of foragers in the far west of Haiti to be less likely, since we know the Indian population that fled from the Spaniards to live in the mountains subsisted on roots, hunting, and food sources available in areas far away from Spanish control. While there could have been an archaic, pre-farming population in the southwestern corner of Haiti in the late precolonial era, it seems more likely that the area was populated by agriculturalists. In addition, ciguayos who preyed upon inhabitants in the plains near their mountainous abode, where they were ruled by Mayobanex, emerge from Vega's analysis as an intriguing and distinct indigenous population of the island. Whether or not the archers encountered by Columbus at the Golfo de los flecheros is an unresolved question, but Vega's idea of a Carib temporary residence there is plausible. Indeed, such a case seems to have been present in nearby Puerto Rico.

Interrogatorio de los Jeronimos

Reading Rodriguez Demorizi's Los dominicos y la encomienda de indios en la isla Española has been a profoundly rich source on the indigenous history of the island of Haiti. Including in its various sources the 1517 Interrogatorio de los Jeronimos, the reader is treated to the testimonies of several Spaniards on the island answering 7 questions on what can or should be done for the Indian population, the encomienda system, and if the Indians are capable of living politically or rationally, like a laborer or common person in Castilla. Unsurprisingly, most of the men shared a belief in the incapacity of the Indians to be placed in liberty. Even the lone person who thought so, Fray Bernaldo de Santo Domingo, believed that the freed Indians must be placed in communities under Spanish administration for a period. Nonetheless, these highly biased sources reflecting the views and opinions of vecinos, regidores, a treasurer and other men in colonial society do shed much light on the conditions of the colony and what the indigenous population was like. Indeed, one of the men who answered the questions was married to a native woman of the island and could draw from his own experience and that of his wife and her connections to buttress his claims about the Indian or Taino population in 1517.

First, the sources stress the indigenous populations inability to live politically or with reason. Unlike the average person in Spain, the Indians lacked the ability (to the Spanish) to save for tomorrow, work consistently or maintain any kind of devotion to the Catholic faith and meet tribute or tax requirements. Without Spaniards holding encomiendas or Spanish administrators to oversee them, the Indians were said by most of the informants to idle away their time with the batey ballgame, cohoba, areytos, and trading valuable things like hammocks for trinkets or things of lesser value. The informants cite numerous examples of this, including caciques who failed to meet tribute obligations before the repartimientos as well as the example of instances in which caciques or Indians educated or raised among the Spaniards completely failed to become successful holders of repartimientos. Instead, the whites claimed that these Indians, such as Alonso de Caceres and Pedro Colon, were addicted to wine and even exchanged their naborias for it or let others access their wives. Other educated caciques and Indians, such as Masupa Otex, don Francisco in Bonao and the Doctor (el Dotor) in Santiago also failed to be successful holders of repartimientos as their Indians produced less than those hold by the Spaniards and they wasted resources and time on what the Spaniards considered to be the typical idleness of the Indian. To the Spaniard, the Indian's inactivity and laziness meant they were even enemies of labor. They would always prefer to spend their time in leisure, playing the batey game, eating to excess and holding areytos, or wasting time with cohoba. The irony of Spaniards claiming Indians were incapable of living on their own account is rich, especially since the surplus of Taino production had enabled the sustenance of large populations before the conquest and even fed the Spaniards.

Indeed, the indigenous population of the island were often able to spend leisure time in what the Spaniards considered frivolities by their choices in settlements. While the original Spanish pueblos were often founded near the settlements of principal caciques, the Indian population of the island preferred to live at a distance from colonial pueblos. In fact, doing so was the best way to ensure some protection from the worst abuses of the colonial system. Nearly all the witnesses in the Interrogatorio claim that the Indian settlements were always at a distance from the Spanish towns, and if Spaniards made attempts to forcibly relocate these Indians, they either fled into the montes or killed Spaniards or threatened to commit suicide with the venom from yuca. Indeed, the threat of this vivid enough to be recalled when similar ideas were proposed for the Indians in the area of Azua and San Juan de la Maguana. There, the cacique Ojeda and other Indians conspired to flee and resist the Spanish attempt to relocate them. So, the Indian population was able to retain significant autonomy even under the abusive encomienda system. By choosing to live separately from the Spaniards, they could ensure that the 4 months or so of the year they had for themselves was spent in a way that was in accordance with Taino customs and practices. Verily, this was what motivated the desire by the Spaniards to reduce the Indians into pueblos in or close to the Spanish settlements, since they would be easier to monitor, proselytize, and control. Otherwise, left to their own devices in far away asientos or hiding in the montes, the Tainos were continuing their cemi worship, consultation of bohites (behiques), and pre-Christian customs that so offended the Spanish that some of witnesses referred to it as a bestial life. 

However, the question of what to do with the Indian population posed so many problems. The aforementioned practice of flight to the mountains, suicide and revolt was paired with a fear of the African population on the island. While one witness claimed the cacique Tamayo fled to the mountains because of African maroons who kidnapped women from his community, other Spaniards expressed deep fear of an alliance of the Indian and African population. If forcibly relocated, they feared that the Indians would flee to the mountains and collaborate with the negros alzados to attack the Spaniards and possibly take the island. Even if they did not, forcing the Indians from their homes to live in new settlements closer to the Spaniards would eventually culminate in the depopulation of the island. The Indians would resist, flee to the mountains, kill Christians, possibly align themselves with Africans, with whom they were allegedly friendly according to one witness and then the mining and agricultural economy linked to the encomiendas would collapse. In order to preserve the colony, while also ensuring the better treatment of Indians held in encomiendas, the witnesses believed it was better to assign encomiendas to Spaniards who were, ideally, married and dedicated to staying on the island. If they were planning on building stone houses and/or had participated in the conquest of it, they were even better, since these men were more likely to reside on the island for a long-term, to be invested in the island's well-being, and more likely to care for and treat their assigned Indians better. Thus, to most of these witnesses, the encomienda system was best kept as maintained, with assignments to men likely to stay on the island and no more absentee holders. Perhaps, over time, the better treatment Indians received from resident encomenderos and the attraction of a better meat diet would have been enough to gradually convince the Indians to stay permanently on or nearby the land of their encomendero. This, was of course, wishful thinking but it was likely true that the Indians held by absentee encomederos fared even worse than the others while the Indian diet and the negative impact of moving back and forth between their homes and that of their encomendero placed an additional burden. 

What is most intriguing to those eager to understand the nature of the Taino cacicazgo and society, however, are the numerous details on the role of behiques or bohites and the cemi spiritual tradition. Indeed, the bohites, who could be male or female, were considered worthy of a special punishment in one rather utopian experiencia conceived by the final witness. Bohites and old Indians were also blamed for the lack of Christian devotion and practice among the Taino. For instance, the elders were said to have mocked younger Indians who adopted or disseminated Christian teachings. Furthermore, the bohites were at the center of an island-wide conspiracy to kill the Christians and retake the island. After the initial success of Agueybana and the revolt in Puerto Rico, his relative, a cacique named Andres in Higuey, celebrated the success of the rebels in Borinquen. Then, with other caciques and bohites or shamans, they plotted to use what amounted to chemical warfare against the Spanish! Unfortunately for the indigenous population of Hispaniola, the conspiracy was unveiled and the bohites were revealed to have been the ones who knew how to prepare the toxic gas. So, the behiques or bohitis were central to ongoing Taino resistance to Christian evangelization and were, with caciques, part of a plot to kill the Spanish. While their revolt was ultimately unsuccesful, one can see how the combination of cemis, caciques, and cohoba continued to be central to cacicazgos after the conquest. Indeed, elements of Taino religion likely persisted well into the colonial era since the population had managed to live apart from the Spaniards for so long and chose to either flee or resist when the Spaniards attempted to do so. 

Consequently, the foundations of cacique authority persisted in a weakened fashion after the Spanish imposed the repartimientos, yet the caciques were not able to command their naborias to produce gold or labor along the lines of what the Spanish sought. Instead, the authority of caciques appears to have been based on command of their subjects in terms of food production, fishing, and related activities. In other words, a tributary system in which caciques exerted some authority over the labor of their subjects, but without the full means to enforce what the Spanish encomienda system was intending to procure for the Crown and the colonial government. Moreover, the Indian population was best not concentrated near the Spanish to avoid conflicts between caciques over women, resources and followers. This matches what Las Casas wrote about past conflicts between cacicazgos and suggests another reason why Indian demographic patterns favored a dispersal away from the Spanish and other possible competitors. Perhaps the cacicazgo, even in its attenuated and somewhat weakened form due to the pressure of the Spanish conquest, can still partially reflect the precolonial cacicazgo? Of course, in a highly modified fashion with smaller populations and the addition of Spaniards and Africans who, in some cases, joined Indian communities. In fact, such an experience allegedly occurred with some of the Spaniards married to Indian women who lacked encomiendas. Nevertheless, this source is quite suggestive on the nature of the Taino polity and how early colonial society in Hispaniola (and Puerto Rico and Cuba) was still fragile. 

The First Social Experiments in America

Lewis Hanke's The First Social Experiments in America is a problematic yet fascinating account of the attempts to "reform" an Amerindian population to live liked "civilized" 16th century Spanish peasants. Since it is a dated work originally written in the 1930s, the author draws interesting analogies between these early attempts at "civilizing" a colonized people with 20th century attempts in Africa and elsewhere. In addition, the author seems to also have accepted theories of racial difference in intelligence or mental development. Consequently, he assumes the experiencia and attempted reforms in which Taino Indians were an experiment to see if Indians were capable of living "politically" like people with reason, were perhaps doomed to failure. However, in the most detailed example of the author, the experiencia in  the 1530s near Bayamo, Cuba, the social experiment largely failed due to the corrupt administrator, Guerrero, who abused, exploited, and neglected the Indians placed under his supervision and failed to live up to his end of the arrangement. So, can one truly say from that experience that the Indians of the Greater Antilles lacked the ability to live as people with reason? 

Sure, perhaps the ultimate aim of these social experiments, which was to turn the Indians into peasants of Castile, was likely impossible in the colonial conditions of its era, but some of the colonists interviewed by the Jeronymites in the 1510s were able to acknowledge that the indigenous people of Hispaniola were capable of agriculture, living in communities, and having political order before the Spanish conquest. Where Hanke's book is more useful is in its references and the occasional commentary. While later historians such as Guitar and Anderson-Cordova have used similarly sources on the Taino response to Spanish conquest and the encomienda system in Hispaniola and Puerto Rico, Hanke uses these sources from a slightly different perspective. Since he was not interested in the social experiments from the perspective of the Indians themselves, his lens was quite different. But intriguingly, even he found evidence of resistance among the indigenes of the Spanish Caribbean. For instance, Miguel de Pasamonte's opposition to freedom of Indians due to the danger of them being friends with the black population illustrates the severity of Spanish fears of Indian and African alliances at the time of the Jeronymite Interrogatory. 

Similarly, the experiment of Ovando, which began in 1508 when he granted repartimientos to 2 educated caciques, Alonso de Caceres and Pedro Colon, only to see that these Western-educated Taino caciques failed to uplift or turn their charges into civilized Indians. Instead of viewing them as failures, perhaps these literate and educated caciques understood and knew how their authority was based or rooted in pre-conquest norms and kinship, thus they could not or would not force their assigned Indians to live like Spaniards. Even the cacique Don Francisco of Bonao and the "doctor" of Santiago acted similarly, which may illustrate again how some Taino elites sought to use their Spanish knowledge and education to protect their communities. One wonders similarly about the 3 villages of free Indians in the "experiment" of Rodrigo de Figueroa in Hispaniola. Of course, like the later experiencia in Cuba, Figueroa was accused of corruption and the villagers were almost certainly exploited and abused by the Spanish administrators assigned to watch over them. Perhaps even the Francisco de Figueroa who received 16 Indians as experimental gold miners, to see if Indians were capable of mining for gold without being coerced to do so by the Spanish, could be an example of Indian resistance since they only produced a paltry amount of gold and chose to organize their time and labor in a manner closer to preconquest patterns. 

Fernando Ortiz and the Areito

Although Fernando Ortiz's La musica y los areitos de los indios de Cuba is rather outdated, it still offers some very interesting insights on the areito and Cuba's indigenous musical influences. Written after his also dated essay on hurricane as a god to the Taino or indigenes of the Antilles, Ortiz sets out to establish the character of the areito, its social, religious and economic functions, and the weakness or general absence of indigenous influences in Cuba's music today. A large part of this is demolishing the wrong-headed notion of a surviving areito by Anacaona, which is nothing but a song or chant of Kikongo origin and which was sung in colonial-era Haiti. Interestingly, Ortiz sees the maraca as a possible example of indigenous influence on Cuban music but otherwise, Cuba's music is largely of European and African origin. The areito itself is demonstrated in its various facets, including drawing upon accounts of it we are not familiar with (such as one describing Indians in Trinidad, Cuba, singing and dancing during a hurricane). Ortiz, drawing from the Spanish chroniclers and ethnographic analogies with other indigenous people, sees the areito as something which was associated with war, divination, genealogies, history, and cemis. That songs were taught to the sons of caciques suggests the rise of rank and status as important parts of the areito, particularly for those who hosted them due to the exorbitant costs involved (in providing food and drink). The areito's religious associations, particularly with the prominence of behiques and the association with decisions that affected the collective were particularly important. What we found interesting however, was the notion of some areitos as rites of passage, an idea substantiated by indigenous cultures in other parts of the Americas. Sadly, we lack any real notion of what the music really sounded like, but since it was mainly based on voice and rhythm, Ortiz rejects notions that see fine melodies in Cuban music as a legacy of the indigenous past. For him, Cuba's musical and dance heritage is of European and African origins. One wonders what he would make of the theory of the ceremonia del cordon being partly influenced by the areito? After all, indigenous Cubans did survive for a long time in Cuba, perhaps retaining aspects of the areito dance long after the dissolution of Taino communities. 

Xaragua Cacicazgo

Samuel M. Wilson's map of the area of Xaragua in Hispaniola: Caribbean Chiefdoms in the Age of Columbus. 

The history of Xaragua, perhaps meaning Country of the Lakes, remains elusive. Despite its recognition by authorities such as Las Casas as the zenith of the Taino chiefdoms on Hispaniola, and perhaps in the entire Caribbean, we know little about it besides what the Spanish chronicles have described. Indeed, with the exception of Behechio and Anacaona, we know nothing about its previous rulers. Furthermore, archaeological research in Haiti has been less rich than other parts of the Greater Antilles, so who knows what may be buried under Leogane and Port-au-Prince that could shed light on the indigenous past of the region? However, since Xaragua was recognized as having the most refined manners and language, the most beautiful women, served as the "court" of the island, perhaps uniquely practiced irrigation, produced the best cotton and batatas, and included the largest number of nobility or nitaino, one cannot help but think of what the sources on Xaragua reveal about the nature of Taino cacicazgos or polities. Despite the paucity of our sourcs, a perusal of Xaragua may reveal greater dynamics and accomplishments of Taino civilization.

First, Xaragua's demographics and resources. According to Oviedo, the area around modern-day Lake Azuei included several villages. Indeed, as late as 1515, when he visited the area, it was still full of large villages. These villages, according to Oviedo, fed on the marine life that lived in the lake, since this was a major source of protein in the Taino diet. In addition, the Taino villages in proximity to sources of water, like Lake Azuei and other bodies of water, facilitated the use of ditches for the irrigation of their conucos. The proximity of seafood protein, bodies of water, and irrigation increased the density of population. This, in turn, meant the caciques of Xaragua were in a more powerful position since they could draw on the tribute of their subjects for resources, trade, and redistribution through areytos and other communal services. This large, densely populated cacicazgo could support a large class of nitaino, too, perhaps over 100 or 200, if Las Casas is to be trusted. In fact, according to Oviedo, the main village of the rebel cacique, Enrique, could have held 1500 residents in previous times before the decline of the indigenous population. If that figure is reliable for a Taino village near a lake, then Xaragua's population may have included villages with perhaps several thousands of residents living around and near Lake Xaragua. This sustained the large population of "lords" (in the Spanish parlance of the time) which could be supported through the labor of the rest of the community, a sign of relative wealth and abundance with sufficient resources. If, as d'Anghiera claimed, the caciques assigned occupations to his subjects, such as fishing, hunting, and farming, the caciques of Xaragua must have benefited from a tremendous population to extract labor services or tribute from. The nitainos could have been subordinates who also measured property of estates or cacicazos, since land was likely held by the family unit or village. The surplus production of the chiefdom probably facilitated the rise of more specialized behiques and schooling for elites who learned the history of the chiefdom through songs and poems. This, in turn, must have led to more refinement in language and courtly manners, the organization of areytos, and, perhaps, the cacicazgo's ability to attract dependents, alliances through marriage, or trade. 

Moreover, d'Anghiera alluded to Anacaona's village near the Xaragua capital which served as a storage center for her treasure or wealth, which consisted of finely made wooden stools or duhos plus everyday bowls, vases and pottery. The finely crafted duhos she gifted to Bartolome Colon were supposedly produced in La Gonave, by women specialists. Considering the amount of time and skill that went into producing the finest duhos, often of guayacan and featuring gold incrustations and intricate patterns and animal or human features, Xaragua was capable of producing one of the most highly valued objects in the Taino sociopolitical system, duhos. Indeed, Xaragua's fine cotton, later an item of tribute to the Spanish after Behechio agreed to render tribute to the Adelantado, must have been cultivated in relatively large amounts and used to produce naguas, hamacas, items for everyday use, and for trade with other cacicazgos, on the island and perhaps in Cuba and beyond. If Careibana, for instance, was a port with a large population, perhaps Xaragua sent and received canoes bringing items of trade. This seems rather likely, since the Spanish remembered the Taino as fond of trade or exchange. Furthermore, Oviedo mentioned a lake which contained fine salt, probably exploited and exchanged by the Taino from its origin in the Bainoa province before 1492. One could see Xaragua's salt, cotton, surplus casabe, and fine duhos as items of trade and gifts for guanin or other imported goods. This, in turn, enhanced the cacicazgo's position since the finest cotton goods were used for chiefly adornment and naguas, just as the more elegant duhos, an item of particular ritual and spiritual importance attached to the caciques, could have been gifts or objects of exchange between Xaragua and other chiefdoms. Indeed, the rich resources of the cacicazgos that sustained a refined elite could also have served the cacicazgo in its relations as other caciques were taught areytos or the aristocratic manner of Xaragua in exchange for allegiance, tribute, or alliance. This is the only way Xaragua could have possibly reached over 200 nitainos. One, perhaps, sees a glimpse of this in the lavish pomp, ceremony, areytos and feasting for the Adelantado and Ovando when they visited Xaragua's royal capital. If Xaragua was capable of organizing large festive dances, feasts, and entertainment that even included a mock battle (perhaps meant as a message to the Spanish of their military potential?) for the Guamiquina of the Christians, then they were clearly able to draw from vast resources. Indeed, if wives of caciques, such as at least one of Behechio's, could be buried with their deceased husband, the Taino society was able to sacrifice the lives of women, a sign they could afford to lose the labor of women so vital in the production of casabe. Caciques were also buried by being wrapped in cotton bandages, another sign of the extensive resources of the Taino who used cotton for burial purposes, cemis, and clothing. The Taino likewise had sufficient leisure time for the construction of plazas for the batey, which in Xaragua, could have likely included more than one plaza. Alas, any evidence of batyes in Xaragua may be lost under Port-au-Prince or Leogane.

The nitainos and lesser caciques would have been included in meals, eating from the fine ware of the Xaragua caciques as well as, through marriage, receiving favor or potential connections as kin of the next heir. Indeed, Behechio was said to have had at least 30 wives. These women, presumably all kin of lesser caciques and allies of Behechio, gave him tremendous power and connections around the island. First, in marriage, lords often had to give stones, shells, and guanin to the fathers, according to Las Casas. Behechio undoubtedly had access to great wealth to be able to marry so many women. His wives' relatives may have felt invested in the cacicazgo through kinship ties sealed by marriage, the sharing of Xaragua areytos, and redistribution of the cacique's goods when he or she died (their property was split between relatives and affiliated visitors). Besides, through the marriage of his sister to Caonabo in Maguana, a powerful cacique who was perhaps from the Bahamas, Behechio ensured Xaragua's influence extended into the eastern part of the island. For example, when the Adelantado first crossed paths with Behechio, it was on the Rio Neyba. According to some, such as Hermann Corvington, Behechio was actually en route to engage the Spaniards in combat. Others, like chronicler d'Anghiera think Behechio was on a military campaign against recalcitrant rebels or perhaps to pacify a province that was once loyal to Caonabo, already killed by the Spanish conquerors. Either way, Behechio's alliance with Maguana had given it some influence to the east. Further, if succession was matrilineal, a child of Caonabo and Anacaona could have become a heir or successor to Behechio. This would have made Caonabo, not native to the island, more secure as the Xaragua chiefdom could potentially have been ruled by his progeny. 

Hence, marriage alliances must have played a great role in cementing alliances and increasing the investment of lesser caciques and nitainos in the success of a matunheri cacique like Behechio. This was perhaps also done in the west, in Haniguayaba and possibly as far as Cuba. In the west, according to Las Casas, the cacique of Haniguayaba acted as independent lord because of his distance from Xaragua. However, there is an implied fealty or at least semblance of subordination to Behecio even as far west as the "boot" of Haiti. Perhaps some of Behechio's 30 wives' families included caciques and nitainos from these western provinces, who would also have been drawn into Xaragua's cultural orbit through its elegant court, lavish areytos, and food surplus. Indeed, this seems to have been the case in the modern Sud-Est of Haiti, too, where Yaquimo and other regions were part of Xaragua's sphere of influence. In fact, aligning with Xaragua may have given lesser caciques and nitainos the protection they needed from other communities. If, as claimed by Las Casas, Taino chiefdoms often went to war over land, seafood resources and over failed promises to deliver a bride, a powerful cacique like Xaragua could have supported dependents. 

Clearly, Xaragua's control of its resources, its ability to cultivate dependents, and the highly refined nature of its court must have made it a paramount chiefdom of the island. The alliance with Caonabo, albeit rather late in the precolonial period, likely led to it becoming the dominant cacicazgo on the island. Shifting alliances aside, Behechio's court must have represented the zenith of the island's indigenous civilization. And due to the close association between religion and power and religion and culture, one may speculate that some of the myths and traditions recorded by Fray Ramon Pané in the other part of the island reflect at least some of Xaragua's myths and traditions. If the areytos and some of the cemis of Xaragua were influential across the island, then surely Pané's brief account offers some insights into the nature of Xaragua, too. After all, d'Anghiera reported that the areytos were part of the preserved traditions at the houses of the caciques, where behiques trained their sons. Due to its wealth, cultural power, and the probably higher number of behiques who may have been partly freed from everyday labor, one suspects that Xaragua influenced other cacicazgos through its spiritual practices and behiques. 

Unfortunately, the finest cacicazgo was defeated with little (overt) resistance. After Caonabo's heroic decision to destroy the Europeans left at La Navidad, he was later trapped and defeated. Why wasn't Behechio involved in Caonabo's battles with the Europeans? As the most powerful cacique, one would think he was certainly aware of the Spanish and their misdeeds and exploitation of indigenous people in other cacicazgos. Did he really think they would never come to Xaragua? The Spanish sources suggest Anacaona was responsible for Xaragua's rapprochement with the Spanish, although one must question their narratives. After all, Anacaona's husband had been killed by the invaders and her homeland's autonomy was next on the chopping block. We are inclined to believe that Anacaona was perhaps plotting something against the Spanish, although it seems unlikely that Roldan and his band of robbers would have been the allies to use against the official colonial government. Either way, Behechio and Anacaona agreed to pay tribute in cotton and casava bread. This happened even as Behechio and Anacaona could have likely murdered the entirety of the Spanish company of the Adelantado. Perhaps Anacaona, after seeing the destruction wrought by the Spanish in other parts of the island, hoped for a situation in which the cacicazgo of Xaragua would survive by paying tribute and, over time, revolting once familiarity with European weapons and technology was achieved. Is this why she was so intrigued by the caravel of the Spaniards? Or, perhaps, was a fatalism spreading due to the prophecy given by a cemis that clothed strangers would conquer them? Either way, Xaragua's lamentable end was achieved when Ovando massacred perhaps 80 elites and killed Anacaona, destroying the most powerful cacicazgo of Hispaniola. With this ignominious massacre and deception, Xaragua's capital was replaced by Spanish towns in which, as recalled by Las Casas, at Vera Paz, 60 or 70 European males were said to be married to women from the elite.

Works Consulted

Anghiera, Pietro Martire d'. De Orbe Novo: The Eight Decades of Peter Martyr D'Anghera. New York ; London: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1912.

Casas, Bartolomé de las. Apologética historia sumaria . [3. ed.]. México, 1967.

 

Cassá, Roberto. 1990. Los Tainos de la Española. 3a ed. Santo Domingo: Editora Buho.

Fernández de Oviedo y Valdés, Gonzalo, José Amador de los Ríos, and Madrid R. Academia de la historia. Historia general y natural de las Indias, islas y tierrafirme del mar océano. Madrid: Impr. de la Real academia de la historia, 1851.

Granberry, Julian, and Gary S. Vescelius. Languages of the Pre-Columbian Antilles. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 2004.

Keegan, William F., and Florida Museum of Natural History. Taíno Indian Myth and Practice: The Arrival of the Stranger King. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2007.

Moscoso, Francisco. Tribu y clases en el Caribe antiguo. San Pedro de Macorís, República Dominicana: Universidad Central del Este, 1986.

Nau, Emile. Histoire Des caciques d'Haïti. 2. éd. publiée avec l'autorisation des héritiers de l'auteur par Ducis Viard. Paris: G. Guérin, 1894.

Oliver, José R. Caciques and Cemí Idols: The Web Spun by Taíno Rulers Between Hispaniola and Puerto Rico. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 2009.

Stevens Arroyo, Antonio M. Cave of the Jagua: The Mythological World of the Taínos. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1988.

Vega, Bernardo. Los cacicazgos de la Hispaniola. 3. ed. Santo Domingo: Fundación Cultural Dominicana, 1990

Wilson, Samuel M. Hispaniola: Caribbean Chiefdoms in the Age of Columbus. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1990.

Anacaona as Lwa

Although her account is so brief and problematic, L'Ayiti des indiens: textes d'historiens by Odette Roy Fombrun includes a short account of a Vodou service to Anacaona as a lwa. Visiting an area in the mornes, the habitation Badè, which she did not specify the location of, Roy Fombrun saw someone possessed by Anacaona. In addition, the lakou featured a "maison" of Anacaona and honored her every year in early December. Unsurprisingly, when Anacaona possessed or mounted someone, they adopted the attitude of a queen. She received offerings of perfume and flowers, too. The other detail Roy Fombrun reported is that Anacaona was represented by a painting placed against a ship symbolizing Agwe. Apparently the painting of Anacaona was supported by an image of Erzulie Freda, which might explain why the offerings to Anacaona were the same as those of the other lwa. Perhaps this lakou's commemoration of Anacaona, like in the 21 Divisions in the DR, associated her with water (hence the Agwe connection) and with the beauty and sensuality of Erzulie Freda? At the tiny "maison" of Anacaona at this lakou, offerings of clothes were made to the cacica. Furthermore, as if to prove that this area of Haiti was populated by descendants of Indians, Roy Fombrun remarked that the inhabitants of the area en route to the lakou had Indian features. 

What particularly stands out to us is the final comment of the author. She claims Gerard Fombrun owned a cigar store Indian that had been found in a houmfort. This indicates that, like some Espiritismo groups and in 21 Divisions Vodu, some Vodou temples in Haiti were using Native American statues imported from the US and incorporating them into ceremonies for Indian spirits. Like their Dominican counterparts, the particular temple visited by Roy Fombrun apparently honored Anacaona but in a way that suggests she was given some of the attributes of Erzulie Freda. The association with Agwe may be a nod to the similar association of Indian spirits with water in Dominican Vodou. However, this is the only account we have encountered suggesting such a thing. Usually water spirits like the Simbi have African antecedents or origins. However, in this case, it is possible that Anacaona was incorporated as a lwa based on Erzulie Freda and there may have been an influence from 21 Divisions. The fact that Gerard Fombrun apparently possessed a cigar store Indian that was once in a houmfort tells us that the incorporation of Indian spirits into Haitian Vodou may have been a little more widespread than one thinks, too. Geo Riply's work on Dominican Vodou suggests a Dominican influence here. Indeed, the Indian Division is associated with Saint Nicholas, whose feast day happens to be the same day Anacaona is commemorated at the site visited by Roy Fombrun. Moreover, Martha Ellen Davis's work indicates a preponderance of Indian spirits in the Dominican Southwest, probably the region close to the area visited by Roy Fombrun.

Sadly, without knowing more about the specific details of the area visited by Roy Fombrun, all we can say is that Anacaona was, or perhaps still is, honored in Haitian Vodou to some unknown extent. It appears to be in a way very similar to that in the Dominican Republic, which makes it likely that the area visited by Roy Fombrun was probably near or not too far from the Dominican Southwest. The offering made to Anacaona in a "grotte" does bring to mind Taino customs, although this worship of Anacaona undoubtedly blends African influences with whatever vestiges of Taino spirituality survive. And while there remains more work to be done on this, perhaps Haitian Vodou traditions also associated Indian spirits with the water. We have the evidence of Deita Guignard's La Légende des Loa: Vodou Haïtien that Maitre Clermaille was supposedly an Indian of the island, a Taino. However, earlier traditions recorded by Simpson contradict that, suggesting General Clermeil or Clermaille was believed by northern peasants to have been a cruel Frenchman. Others write that he was the father, not the husband, of his daughter, also associated with the sea and people with light skin. 

Cacique Enrique's Song

Jean Fouchard's Langue et littérature des aborigènes d'Ayti

Although it is difficult to research, we are currently obsessed with the story of a song said to come from the time of Enrique's rebellion in Hispaniola. According to Emile Nau, writers at the court of Henri Christophe wrote the song based on oral traditions and a refrain (Aya bombe). Nau is skeptical that the song is authentic yet he also implausibly believed the chica, djouba and carabinier dances of Haiti were of Amerindian origin. Unfortunately, Nau did not reproduce the song of Enrique and we have yet to find any written evidence of it from the time of Henri Christophe's kingdom. However, Henri Christophe was compared to the famous cacique and the song was likely composed by the literati of his kingdom. Whether or not it is based on any "authentic" tradition is difficult to say. Nonetheless, the refrain of Aya bombe, which sounds very African, is repeated multiple times. African words in a song celebrating Enrique are not too surprising when one considers that he had African followers or supporters. 

According to Jean Fouchard, Frederic Marcelin was the first person to publish the complete song of Henry, in 1905. Marcelin wrote that he first heard the song from an old man in the North of Haiti. This old man supposedly had worked on the construction of the famous Citadel. The elder also told Marcelin about the corpses or skeletal remains of Indians around the island. This led to the old man, who claimed to have heard the song from a grandfather of Indian blood, to recite it in a language Marcelin could understand (presumably French or Creole) instead of the original Indian language. This story is repeated in Marcelin's Au gré du souvenir, published in 1913. However, he first heard the song in the 1890s. If true, Marcelin's informant was probably someone born in the early 1800s or late 1700s. His grandfather, who was supposedly Indian and from the most powerful tribe on the island (Xaragua?), could have been someone of indigenous descent who heard something of the traditions of Enrique. Is it possible that there were people of indigenous descent, perhaps related to those from Boya, who were in Guarico (Cap-Haitien) or the northern part of Haiti, sharing an oral tradition that reached the court of Henry Christophe? Indeed, Moreau de Saint-Moreau reported the presence of descendants of Enrique's community living in Banica, near Hincha. Hinche, in modern-day Haiti, would have been near Christophe's kingdom. In addition, there was a movement of people from the Cibao and other parts of the Spanish part of the island into the north. According to Johnhenry Gonzalez's Maroon Nation, captives from the 1805 campaign in the East were brought to the Haitian side. These examples show that there could have theoretically been a group of people in the northern part of the Haiti with some degree of oral traditions pertinent to Enrique. Indeed, some of these people may have been of partial descent from the band of Enrique while others, including Haitians, would have celebrated the figure of Enrique and his heroic resistance from Bahoruco. The Aya bombe refrain was perhaps just added due to the strong African influences on Haitian oral traditions and songs.

The other interesting part of the song's history is Edgar la Selve's reproduction of Caonabo's war song. Supposedly chanted right before he destroyed La Navidad, Caonabo delivered a lengthy war chant that includes some of the same imagery as Enrique's song. While Edgar de la Selve's work, a history of Haitian literature, was published in 1875, he does not clearly indicate his source for Caonabo's war song. Thus, Fouchard is inclined to think that the French author made some major changes to the text. Is it possible that Caonabo's song was based on the song for Enrique that was written in the court of Henri Christophe? It is difficult to say, but Edgar de la Selve or whoever wrote Caonabo's song was evidently familiar with the several important words and concepts to the Taino and Kalinago languages and cultures. Caonabo's song references several Kalinago spirits, words, and even claims he was from the island of Ayay, in the Lesser Antilles. Oviedo also believed Caonabo was a "Carib" but if this song is authentic, then Caonabo was probably from the Lesser Antilles instead of the Bahamas. However, was Caonabo's song, which spoke of using European skulls as drinking dishes just a riff on the song of Enrique pledging to use the skin of Europeans for hammocks? It is difficult to say, but the more explicitly Kalinago words and allusions in the text lead us to think that it is perhaps less authentic. Although it is possible that, since other learned Haitians of the time sometimes saw the Taino as being very similar to the Lesser Antilles Indians, they merely copied names of spirits or words like karbet into a Taino context? 

Overall, we are inclined to believe that the Song of Enrique, though definitely "edited" and transmogrified over time and space, may represent an authentic tradition or song. It also features undeniable African influences in the refrain, and we lack anything like a Spanish or Taino text to work with. Yet the song could have been based on a popular tradition that appealed to Haitians who celebrated the maroon ideal represented by Enrique and the Africans in Bahoruco. And free people of color, especially people from the Spanish-speaking part of the island, may have found a common hero who they already possessed oral traditions for. Indeed, Christophe's court even included a Cibao native, Jose Campos Tavarez, a mulatto former slave who could have shared traditions of Enrique that were current in his region. In addition, we have the testimony of Marcelin's informant, an old man who claimed his grandfather knew the song in another language, presumably an Indian tongue. If the song was around before the rise of Christophe's kingdom, in some form at least, then it could potentially be a remnant of an areito. An areito, nonetheless, already creolized over the centuries and including African elements. And, as indicated by Nau, probably set to European-styled music by Henri Christophe's court. 

Two Caciques of Xaragua

 While pursuing our latest obsession, the cacicazgo of Xaragua, we came upon a short essay by Hermann Corvington at the Digital Library of the Caribbean. While definitely dated and basically relying on familiar sources (Nau, the Spanish sources), it does seem to reflect how Haitian intellectuals of that particular moment viewed Anacaona and her brother as leaders. Indeed, the short work was apparently written after Corvington saw a play about Anacaona that was published in the 1940s. Corvington, however, tries to, admittedly without much source material, to understand why the strongest cacicazgo on the island essentially submitted to Spanish rule without putting up a fight. He believed Behechio was perhaps, due to age, guilty of a miscalculation. This is especially so since Corvington adopts the stance that Behechio was ready to fight the Spanish when he crossed paths with the Adelantado by the Neyba River. Anacaona, presented as more astute and consistent in her opposition to the Spanish, apparently went along with her brother's will despite the Spanish killing her husband, Caonabo. According to Corvington, Anacaona had probably convinced Behechio to assist or at least stand by while Caonabo killed the Spaniards at Navidad. Then, after the defeat of Caonabo and Guarionex, perhaps Behechio was wary of direct conflict with the Spaniards. At first, paying tribute to them and keeping them out of Xaragua seemed to work, at least temporarily. However, Roldan's predations and the change in policy by Ovando who decided to crush the cacicazgo spelled their doom. Whether or not Anacaona really was scheming or ploting something against the Spaniards before Ovando's massacre is not clear, though Corvington believes any scheme she had involved the Spaniards who loved her daughter. It is clear that Corvington was influenced by Emile Marcelin's historical fiction and other traditions here.