Languages of the Pre-Columbian Antilles

The collaboration of Julian Granberry and Gary Vescelius produced a short but very readable analysis of the languages of the precolonial Caribbean. Determined to see how linguistic evidence can be of assistance with tracking external and internal migration in the archipelago based on archaeological and ethnohistoric evidence, Languages of the Pre-Columbian Antilles proposes a few general theories. First, that the earliest Archaic population in the Antilles came from Central America, possibly speaking a Tolan language. A possible remnant of this ancient language presence might be attested in Hispaniola among the Ciguayo, whose word for gold, tuob, indicates a possible connection with that language family. Quisqueya, one of the indigenous names of the island of Haiti may also shouw a connection to Eastern Tol languages of Honduras. Of course, we lack enough words from the language spoken by the Ciguayo of Hispaniola to actually know for sure. But it's an interesting idea, considering the archaeological evidence of a movement of Central Americans from the area of Belize/Honduras into the West Indies in prehistoric times. Granberry and Vescelius also propose a movement of a population speaking a language related to Warao, a language isolate of Venezuela. This movement happened after the movement of Central Americas into the Antilles, and may have survived in the Macorix language, still spoken in parts of Hispaniola when the Spanish arrived (although not restricted to only Hispaniola). 

The authors then propose the movement of Arawakan speakers after this period, who spoke a language from the Northwest branch of Maipuran languages, closer to Goajiro than, say, Lokono and the Northeast branch. Over time, the expansion of Arawakan speakers into the Greater Antilles and Lesser Antilles led to the replacement of the Warao-like language or a new, creolized form of the Arawakan tongue, which became the Taino language. Evidence for a pre-Taino Warao-related language is also lacking enough evidence to support, but words like duho or duhu in Taino appear to be derived from the Warao word for stools or sitting. Similarly, the word for gold, nozay, in the Lucayan Islands may be related to the Modern Warao term for gold. According to Granberry, this Warao-influenced Arawakan language was the "Ciboney" tongue used in Cuba, western Hispaniola, probably Jamaica and the Lucayan islands. The language we call Classic Taino, however, was the universal tongue and appears to have been in a process of expansion into Cuba right before the Spanish conquest. As for the Guanahatabey of Cuba, Granberry and Vescelius accept the theory of their Archaic origins, which implies they may have spoken one of the pre-Arawak languages of the Antilles.

Trying to connect language shifts with ceramic styles and lithics can be fraught with danger. Sometimes languages spread or change without necessarily correlating with ceramic styles or other aspects of material culture. In that regard, we are unsure how to interpret the theory of a Meillacoid ceramics style and Chican being signs of distinct languages. In addition, we wonder about the power of Xaragua in western Hispaniola, which was considered by Las Casas to have spoken the most refined form of the universal language of the island. If that language was Taino, and they spoke the most refined form of it while also being considered the most powerful cacicazgo of the island, does that not imply a strong or influential Classic Taino influence in the western parts of Hispaniola? Nevertheless, Granberry and Vescelius's study, despite its very limited data to support their ideas of Tolan and Warao-like languages in the ancient Great Antilles, raise a number of interesting insights. For instance, using toponyms to postulate where the first inhabitants of the Lucayans came from (Cuba and Hispaniola) is an interesting idea that can be supported with archaeological evidence. Furthermore, the adoption of the Warao duhu for what is one of the most important signs of chiefly power and ceremonial uses in Taino civilization is certainly interesting, even if no other Taino words related to chiefly power or spirituality have a link to Warao.

Likewise, the fact that Eyeri or Lesser Antilles Arawakan language was closer to Northeast Arawakan languages on the South American mainland, a pattern still evident in the Garifuna language which descends from, illustrates the huge linguistic diversity in the precolonial period. A few other instances of specific words that do not demonstrate clear Arawak affinities or archival sources might have further strengthened some of the ideas proposed by the authors. For example, Oviedo's reference to the use of the word "eracra" for bohio or house by the Indians of the island of Haiti should have been examined to see if it shows any similarities with Warao or Central American tongues. And the explanation of the prefix maku and the definition of Macorix or Macorix could have been expanded upon for understanding references to "Macurijes" in other parts of the Great Antilles, such as Cuba. If Macurijes in Cuba during the second half of the 16th century did not speak Taino, was it a Warao language? Or were they speaking what the authorss considered "Ciboney" instead? It is difficult to know, although the idea of Macorix implying a non-Arawakan language is an interesting one. It might be worthwhile to also look into languages in Florida the coast of Panama and Colombia for possible connections with other cultures the Greater Antilles peoples were in contact with.

Cahokia

Cahokia: Ancient America’s Great City on the Mississippi by Timothy R. Pauketat serves as an adequate introduction to the precolonial metropolis known today as Cahokia. A site we hope to one day visit, Pauketat's book analyzes the history and, to a certain extent, the history of the archaeologists who have worked at the site. With its impressive mounds, or pyramids, (including one of the largest in the Americas) and evidence of complex rituals, social stratification or ranks, long-distance trade and contacts and its legacy in the Mississippian cultures, Cahokia was an impressive civilization. Lamentably, as one might expect, the site has not been respected by 19th and 20th century Euroamericans, whose plows, construction, highways, and subdivisions have destroyed parts of Cahokia and related sites at St. Louis and East St. Louis. 

Nonetheless, the impressive remains that have been salvaged and continue to be an area of study for archaeologists have shown the rise of a city or urban complex at Cahokia beginning around the year 1050. Pauketat proposes a connection with the supernova visible in the sky in the year 1054, an astronomical observation that must have been noticed by indigenous peoples like those who built Cahokia. After all, their Woodhenge was also associated with astronomical alignments and significance related to the cosmos. The supernova and the chronology we have for Cahokia's rise and fall, built on what used to be a smaller village site, suggest its influence spread far and wide in the Plains, Midwest, and South. While not unique for the construction of mounds, the scale of Cahokia's mounds, the large numbers of sacrificial victims found at the site, and vastness with villages peopled by inhabitants from distant areas suggest at least some degree of political centralization. The labor costs for the mounds, plaza, and the food and supplies to feed the area at its zenith, which was at least 10,000 in the urban area, must have also been an additional area the city's elites expressed their power. Religion, the human sacrifices at the mounds, and perhaps Cahokian traders, colonists, and chunkey games seem to have played a prominent role here, too, helping to establish Cahokia's influence across a huge swath of the North American continent and influencing subsequent indigenous cultures.

Ultimately, there is a lot we don't know about the site. The various oral traditions, legends, linguistic data, and finds from other sites in North America are all utilized in this source to construct a possible/plausible history of Cahokia. Was it a powerful kingdom perhaps influenced by Mesoamerica? No irrefutable evidence has been found yet, but common references and symbolism in Native American cultures either descended from Cahokia or influenced by it with Mesoamerican traditions are suggestive. If Cahokia was the center from which Mesoamerican influences may have spread further in North America, then perhaps people from Cahokia really did travel to Mexico in the 11th century (or Mesoamericans traveled north?). Further evidence is required to verify, but this idea of Mesoamerican influences brought to mind the past scholarship on the Taino and possible contacts with Mesoamerica in the precolonial period. The indigenous peoples of the Greater Antilles, for instance, had some overlap with Mesoamerican art and religious practices according to Puerto Rican scholars and theorists such as Eugenio Fernandez Mendez. Perhaps there was some sort of "moment" around the 11th century or so that witnessed direct or indirect relations between Mesoamerica and the Caribbean as well as Mesoamerican and what is now the United States?

The Indian in Haitian Consciousness

Léon-François Hoffmann's chapter in Haitian Fiction Revisited, "The Indian Element in the Haitian Collective Consciousness" is an interesting essay on an important topic that is often overlooked or neglected. While the theme of the Indian in Spanish Caribbean literature and history has received a far more thorough treatment and analysis, the role of the indigenous past and its legacy in Haitian identity and literature is not often discussed. This, of course, is partly a reflection of the greater presence and legacy of the indigenous Caribbean in places like Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. Nonetheless, as the first independent state in the Caribbean and one that revived the indigenous name for the island while also pioneering historical research into this indigenous past by 19th century Caribbean authors (Nau, for instance), Haiti deserves a second look in this topic.

Hoffmann's chapter endeavors to do this, mainly through an analysis of the function and character of the Indian theme in Haitian poetry, drama, fiction and, to a lesser extent, ethnology and history. Hoffmann's occasionally ironic commentary on some of the more extreme claims by Haitian authors of a Taino influence in Vodou or Haitian culture more broadly reflect his likely reasonable skepticism, particularly in the penchant of some Haitian authors to make these claims without presenting a shred of evidence. Nonetheless, he was not so dismissive in its entirety, merely pointing out some of the problematic assertions of Alexis, Maya Deren, and the fanciful or imaginative nature of claims of a Taino influence. One wishes he offered a more thorough analysis of Hermann Corvington's "historical vulgarizations" on the island's indigenous caciques, especially since those texts are so difficult to find today. However, he also found traces of the island's indigenous people in Haitian poetry that alluded to the use of zemis in Vodou, although this in itself does not mean Vodou practices were influenced by living Tainos. Still, the intriguing literary references show that the Haitian, including those from non-elite backgrounds, likely possessed some degree of interest in the island's precolonial inhabitants. 

One wishes the author had also addressed the claim by some Haitian authors to Indian ancestry a little more deeply. Madiou, Comhaire-Sylvain, and others, for example, seem worthy of mention and some attempt at historical analysis to understand how and why identification as "Indian" appealed to some Haitians, too. The political implications of specific uses of the "Indian" theme in Haitian literature and politics may also be worthy of deeper study. Especially, in 1983, the Duvalier regime's attempt to create an Indian-themed national holiday and to commemorate that legacy with a statue to the Unknown Indian in the capital. Yet, a few years later, when the Duvalier regime fell, the statue honoring the Indian was also toppled alongside that of Columbus. Was the Duvalier dictatorship's attempt to capitalize on the island's Indian past and legacy a move to gain legitimacy and establish its legitimacy, which was under challenge and then rejected by the masses of Port-au-Prince? And were moments of parallelism and identification with Indians particularly their tragic history, linked to the US Occupation of Haiti and other moments when a Haitian government was perceived as too eager to serve imperialist interests? There is a lot to consider here, and perhaps, one day, the "Indian" them will be revisited in a similar broad context.

Hacked DNA Results

Well, although it's so small that it wasn't included with their DNA Origins or Ethnicity estimates, our Haitian parent did possess trace amounts of  Indigenous Americas ancestry. At only 0.26%, it could be an error or perhaps some remnant of very distant indigenous origins. It was likely Taino or indigenous Caribbean, but the algorithm used by Ancestry labelled it as Bolivia & Peru. For what it's worth, a few of the DNA matches from the same part of Haiti also had trace Indigenous Americas ancestry, but closer to 1% or sometimes slightly higher. So, overall, the Haitian is overwhelmingly of African origin but sometimes with significant French or European ancestry. None of this is surprising, although I do wonder why some geneticists reported our part of Haiti as having an oral tradition of native ancestry.