Sociedad y economía de los Taínos

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

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

Reine Anacaona

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

Indian Division...

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

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

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

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

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

Constitutions et luttes de pouvoir en Haiti (Tome I)

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

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

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

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

Gulf of Darien...

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

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

Quito Manuscript Thoughts

The following are my initial thoughts to reading Hyland's commentary and study of the Quito Manuscript, passed down to us through a copy made by Fernando de Montesinos in his own chronicle, Memorias antiguas, historiales y políticas del Perú. Upon reading more about Fernando de Montesinos himself and the intellectual and ideological context of his work and time (justifying Spanish conquest of Peru, linking Peru to Ophir, and praising the Spanish monarchy as the Kingdom of Israel), one can appreciate how radically different the Quito Manuscript is from this worldview. Instead, as argued by Hyland, the anonymous author (mestizo or indigenous, and apparently from Quito) was celebrating the Incas and the precolonial past of the Andes,albeit in a highly Christianized context. 

Hyland is pretty confident that the Quito Manuscript (as preserved by Fernando Montesinos) was written by an indigenous or mestizo man from Ecuador who did not speak Spanish or Quechua as a first language. She's also sure that the stories and legends of 93 kings of Peru cannot be correlated with the Tiwanaku or Wari kings. She thinks the indigenous or mestizo author of the chronicle copied by Montesinos was profoundly Christian/influenced by the Old Testament and wanted to adapt legends gathered from amautas in and Around Quito that could give the Andeans a deep antiquity and status as a civilized people who once worshiped the "True God" before the Spanish conquest. The Quito Manuscript is also pro-Inca, unlike Montesinos, although one wonders if the anonymous author of the chronicle was exaggerating the extent to which the Incas attempted to stamp out idolatry and sodomy because of the inculcation of Christian values by so many Indians by the 1600s.

Supposedly, there would still have been enough amautas or descendants of amautas around Quito in the late 1500s to consult, but due to the non-Quechua speakers and distance from Cuzco, a distinctly northern perspective and set of traditions were recorded and modified by our anonymous author (and then modified again by Fernando de Montesinos, the racist priest who believed Indians were inferior yet also viewed Peru as the land of Ophir once connected to the ancient kingdom of Israel. To make a long story short, I guess the list of 93 kings of ancient Peru must be mainly legendary, although it would be cool if some of them were based on Wari or Tiwanaku kings. We just dont have any evidence of that since places like Lake Titicaca or Ayacucho are not mentioned in the text.

India del agua

In the Dominican form of Vodou, Indian spirits are often associated with water. We found this number, "India del agua" by Conjunto Batey, to be particularly beautiful and charming. 

Paul Vargas at Carlisle

Intriguingly, at least one of the Puerto Rican students studying at Carlisle Indian School was identified as someone of Amerindian descent. Named Paul Vargas, he was apparently from Humacao, Puerto Rico. Entering Carlisle in 1910, Vargas apparently was only enrolled temporarily, since he left the school in the same year. Nonetheless, one wonders how Vargas saw himself and if he would have agreed with the school's characterization of him as someone of "Carribee Indian" descent.

Survival of Yuca Culture in Puerto Rico

Whilst perusing "Survival of la cultura de la yuca in Puerto Rico" by Juan Manuel Delgado, or at least the incomplete translation of his much longer article, as part of Bread Made From Yuca, edited by Jane Gregory Rubin and Ariana Donalds, one is reminded of the central importance of yuca for precolonial Puerto and even much of Puerto Rico during the last 500 years. Delgado illustrates this with numerous examples from folklore, medicinal uses, spiritual and religious practices that seem to at least partly draw from the indigenous heritage. Even work parties and sung rosary prayers are compared with the indigenous areytos as practices which include, or once included, yuca as part of it. Intriguingly, in at least one region of the island, yuca was also associated with Saint Antonio of Padua. This is intriguing since archival sources also support the idea of Saint Patrick as a protector of yuca from worm infestation, at least according to Jose Colomban Rosario's thesis on the jibaro. 

Ancient Caciques of Jamaica

Whilst perusing Bachiller y Morales on indigenous Cuba and the Taino language, we came across references to aboriginal Jamaica. Apparently, back in 1607, Gregorio Garcia, who sought to uncover the origins of Amerindian peoples, wrote that the last three caciques of Jamaica were Beroica, Bemboroica, and Abemberoica. It would be fascinating to find Garcia's source for these names of Jamaican caciques. From the testament of Diego Mendez, we know of Ameyro and Huareo as caciques of Jamaica at the time Columbus was shipwrecked there. For caciques after or before, we are lost and would love to know more. Sadly, attempting to look this up only led us to Rafinesque, who tried to date these aforementioned Jamaican caciques to the 1400s. Rafinesque also attempted to historicize the traditions and myths of Ramon Pane on Hispaniola with linguistic and historical evidence to reconstruct the precolonial past of the West Indies (unconvincingly, we might add). More verifiable are the 8 or so caciques of Jamaica listed in The Jamaica Reader: History, Culture, Politics: Aguacadiba, Ameyao, Anaya, Guayguata, Huareo, Maynoa, Oristan, and Vaquabo. The first of these is mentioned as a place by Diego Mendez. 

Taino Words

The following are words from the indigenous Taino language of the Greater Antilles. Largely derived from Las Casas and Oviedo, chroniclers who spent a significant time in the Caribbean during the 1500s, they both included several words from the Taino tongue in their works. Unsurprisingly, toponyms, flora and fauna, and sometimes names of caciques frequently appeared in their works. The words used below also include some from Puerto Rico's rivers and place names, as well as Abbad y Lasierra. But the vast majority are derived from Oviedo and Las Casas, particularly the latter's Historia Apologética.

Amaguey (valley and river)

Hami (river)

Zapita (river)

xoxenes (mosquitoes)

Bahabonico (river)

xaguey (cisterns?)

guayagas (roots grown and used to make a type of bread)

batata

bejucos (vines/cords)

Haina (rio)

Iguamuco (provincia)

Banique

Hatiey (another province)

Atibonico (Artibonite River)

Zahay (provincia), puerto de golfo de Xaragua

Guacayarima (anus of island)

Camin (rio)

Careibana (area on a plain)

Cayguani

ciba (stone)

streams in Cibao area: Xagua, Guaba, Guanahoma, Baho, Yaqui, Xanique, Agmina, Maho, Paramaho, Guavobin

guabina (type of fish)

dahos, zages, diahacas (types of fish consumed)

teti (fish caught in streams)

xaibas (crabs)

hicotea (turtle)

Buenicun (stream in Cibao area)

Coactinucum (another stream)

Cibu (another stream)

Maimon and Yuma: river names

Dahahon (river name)

Magua (Vega)

higuacas (large parrots)

xaxabis (medium-sized parrots)

quemi (one of the rodents of Hispaniola)

mohies (other type of rat)

curies (other type of rodent consumed)

iguana

aji 

manati

yuca, yucabia (plant)

aje

lerenes and yahubias (other types of roots)

guayaros: root in the monte

guariqueten

cibucam (type of manga)

hibiz (sifter)

libuza (cuero used to grate finer yuca)

hien: poisonous juice from yuca

annona (type of fruit)

pitahaya, guanabana

tuna (type of fruit)

hicacos (type of fruit)

ceiba tree

caoban tree: good wood used for tables

caimito: type of tree

guazimas: type of tree

hibuero tree

cupey tree

guao tree (in eastern Hispaniola; used to make poison for arrows according to Las Casas)

manibari (type of yerba)

van (type of yerba)

xeyticaco

buticaco

mahite

taguaguas (earrings)

matunheri

cabuya

hupia

hutia

carey

dita

cohoba

canoa

cazabi

areito

batey

hequeti (uno)

yamoca (dos)

canocum (tres)

yamoncobre (cuatro)

cemi

Lucayo

manicato

caribes

Cibago

Higuey

Saona

Jamaica

Borinquen

Quisqueya

maraca

xaoxao

Yaquimo

Hanyguayaba

jagua

Cacibajagua

bixa

macana

Ciguayo

nitaino

naboria

cocuyo

bahari

Guamiquina

daca

cayo

Zuania

Agueybana

Cayacoa

coa

cimarron

hamaca

conuco

tabaco

Haiti

Cuba

buren

eracra

guayacan

guayaba

Guaba

mamey

Coaybay

behique

bohio

caney

yuca

yucayeque

barbacoa

nahe

cacona

caona

nagua

guanin

maiz

mani

Xaragua

Magua

Maguana

mohuy (animal)

cigua (tree)

damahagua tree (used for cords)

daguita (string)

azuba tree

yayama (pineapple)

yayagua

papaya

boniama

cauallos

hobos tree

higuero tree

guama tree

macagua tree

guiabara tree

gaguey tree

sibucan (tree)

guao: root that's poisonous and used by Indian women of Hispaniola to whiten their skill

guazabara (skirmish, conflict, fight)

guatiao (brother, friend)

datihao (my master, or one named like me (Oviedo)

tabonuco (type of glue from a tree), also called tabunuco

guabiniquinax (type of hutia on Cuba)

ayre (another animal in Cuba) 

goeiza

sablao (finer type of cazabi/casabe)

anaiboa (flower of yucca plant)

ana (flower)

imocona (type of food)

Loquillo: indio alzado and cacique

Bayamon rio: area described as center for conuco agriculture in 1580s

Toa (rio in Puerto Rico)

Guayanes River (once heavily populated area in time of indios in PR)

Abacoa (river, Arecibo, in Puerto Rico)

Guataca (river in PR)

Camuy (river in PR)

Guaurabo (river in PR)

Guanajibo/Guaynabo (river in PR)

Guayanilla (rio in PR)

Taiaboa (rio in PR)

Jacagua (rio in PR)

Cuamo (rio in PR): River had fountain/source with area featuring healing bath used by INdians, since stone with figures made by Indians found on it)

Guayama (river in PR)

Abey (rio in PR)

Maunabo (rio in PR)

Humacao (rio in PR)

Dagua/Daguao (rio in PR)

Maga (tree used to make tables, seats, etc.)

capa (tree used to make boats, etc)

ucar (tree)

anon (tree)

quibey (yerba with poisonous features)

Inabon (rio in PR)

dautia/autia (jutia in PR)

Guamani (puerto in PR)

Bieque/Vieque (island)

Yabucoa

Isla de Yautias

yaguas (used for houses)

buhios (bohios, spelling of Abbad y la Sierra)

cayuco (small canoe for rivers and short voyages, Abbad y La Sierra)

duho (stool, banco, silla)

athebeane nequen 

hicos: cords of a hamaca (Oviedo)

bagua (mar, ocean, sea)

guaraguaos (type of bird)

comejen/comixen

haquetas (smaller shark or fish)

Escudo de San Luis del Caney

Apparently, El Caney, a pueblo de indios that survived for several centuries in colonial Cuba, had a coat of arms. It is reproduced in Crónicas de Santiago de Cuba by Emilio Bacardí y Moreau.  

Samuel de Champlain's Maps of Hispaniola and Puerto Rico

Whilst perusing the internet at night looking for sources on Xaragua, Haiti, and the indigenous Caribbean, as one is wont to do, we came across some beautiful maps of Samuel de Champlain. Champlain, who traveled to Hispaniola and Puerto Rico in the beginning of the 17th century, is one of the few cartographers to include images of Native American peoples inhabiting the Greater Antilles at this time. While one must him very carefully as a source, it is intriguing to note that de Champlain wrote about "Indians" on Hispaniola who were fond of the French. He similarly noted the presence of "Indians" in San Juan, Puerto Rico. 

Samuel de Champlain's beautiful maps and illustrations also include the area around La Yaguana (Hispaniola) as well as scenes like Monte Cristi. It's unfortunately that more beautifully illustrated works have not survived showing Hispaniola and Puerto Rico in the early 17th century. Furthermore, based on his map, Yaquimo must have been located closer to what later became Aquin in the French colonial period. This seems to also have been the case in Exquemelin's account, which associated Aquin and Yaquimo together. 

Athebeane Nequen

One term from the Taino language of Haiti-Quisqueya which fascinates us is athebeane nequen. Used for the wife of a deceased cacique buried alive with her spouse, the term's origins are complex and confusing. Appearing in Oviedo's chronicle and, as a slightly different term (rendered as a single word, Guanahattabenecheuà) in the works of Peter Martyr d'Anghiera, the word is clearly linked to central concepts of caciques, funeral rites for the social elites of the Taino world, and gender relations. According to Oviedo, the athebeane nequen was the most beautiful wife of the cacique, bured alive with her. Expanding further, Encisco (according to Ricardo Alegria's MA thesis on the Taino cacicazgo) wrote that this wife would enter the open grave of a cacique after the period of mourning ended, right before the grave was closed again. Moreover, Peter Martyr d'Anghiera described this custom, at least in the case of Behechio of Xaragua, as including the favorite necklaces, ornaments, water and casabe. Thus, one can presume the interment of live wives of powerful caciques was accompanied by some specific type of ritual.

This leads us to our next question. What is the etymology of the term used by Oviedo and Anghiera? At first, we thought there might be a link to the cemi, Atabey, or Attabeira. Said to have been the mother of Yocahu and to possess 5 names, one can assume she was an important cemi associated with motherhood. According to Arrom's translation of  Ramón Pané, this cemi's name might be connected to the word for mother and the word for water. Was the title, as rendered by Oviedo, really a name for a wife of a cacique whose self-sacrifice was seen as related to Atabey? Of course, there are other theories. Douglas Taylor, for example, noted that in the Island Carib language, the title could have been rendered as something equivalent to the wife that goes down/sets (as in the Sun and the Moon). However, Taylor noted that the term, as rendered by Oviedo, is inconsistent with this. In addition, we even explored the chances of the nequen part of the name being similar to the word for river or stream or even as a shorted form of henequen. Neither theory can be demonstrated, although we know from Martyr d'Anghiera that names referring to rivers were sometimes used for caciques, as in Duyheiniquem for Behechio of Xaragua. Thus, the term's origin remains unclear. 

Despite these problems, we think the term for this special type of wife buried alive may have been connected to the cemi, Atabey. Since the cult of cemis ad the close association with the power and authority of caciques seems likely, it would not be a surprise for the unique burial of a living wife of a cacique to be associated with a cemi. If Atabey was the mother of Yocahu, a central cemi at least in Hispaniola, perhaps it is no surprise that a athebeane nequen is a title referring to the cemis. Naturally, firmer evidence must be found, and perhaps other examples of names or titles linked to the cemis might be revelatory here. 

Fifth Sun: A New History of the Aztecs

Camilla Townsend's Fifth Sun: A New History of the Aztecs is not exactly what we were looking for. Our own interests are mainly in the preconquest period, but that comprises less than half of the book. Instead, Townsend, partly due to her use of Nahuatl annals and sources penned by Nahua or part-Nahua authors of the 1500s and 1600s, extends her history of the Mexica into the 1600s. This is admirable since the Mexica and other Nahuas did not disappear overnight with the Spanish conquest. Instead, their culture survived in many ways, despite the destruction, epidemics, and loss of political power in a highly unequal colonial society. Some, like Chimalpahin, became historians adept with adapting the Roman script for writing detailed annals or histories of the central valley of Mexico in Nahuatl. 

Townsend also tries to emphasize the voices of women, elucidate the experience of Malinche, and humanize the Aztec state (Triple Alliance and empire are problematic labels for reasons we shall not delve into here). Indeed, their complex civilization was often reduced to ugly caricatures of obscene human sacrifice or even belittled as irrational cowards (Moctezuma) in the face of the Spaniards, mistakenly believed to have been perceived as gods by the Mexica in bad, questionable histories first produced by Spaniards. In truth, relying as much as possible on Nahua sources to highlight their own memories, experiences, language, and worldview.

However, Townsend believes the Nahuatl annals and sources of the colonial era are most useful for only a century of the region's history before the colonial conquest. Thus, a reader eager for a more detailed examination of Aztec history before the conquest may be somewhat disappointed. Nonetheless, the narrative does encompass the shadowy origins of the Mexica from the distant north, as well as an outline of the history of Mesoamerica and the context in which the early Mexica entered as newcomers to the central valley. Townsend even draws on Diamond and others to help readers understand why, despite the advances made by the Aztecs and other indigenous cultures before 1492, they were "behind" when it came to metallurgy, writing, firearms, domesticated animals, and exposure to deadly diseases. The consequences of these aforementioned factors gave the Spanish a tremendous edge in their colonial expansion. 

What was most interesting for us, however, is the degree of similarity with the Incas. Like their famous Andean counterparts, the Aztecs appear to have only been one of many players in their region in the 1200s and 1300s. Only in the 1400s did their rapid expansion into an imperial power take place, often relying on both military expansion and marriage alliances with other altepetls in the central valley. Moreover, like Pachacuti, whose reign appears to have included a standardization of historical narratives on the Inca past, the Mexica under Itzcoatl had books burned when he took power, presumably leading to him being able to reshape what was later produced under his reign and that of his successors. Moreover, like Pachacuti, Itzcoatl's rise to the throne was not uncontested due him being the son of a slave woman. Pachacuti, of course, had to contend with a brother and their father who favored his sibling, according to the standard narrative of Inca imperial expansion in the 1400s. Furthermore, like the successors of Pachacuti, the Aztec rulers after Itzcoatl continued the expansion of the state (Moctezuma I, Axyacatl) and created a more centralized administration (Moctezuma II). The Aztecs, who did not use khipu to record information, must have relied on their pictures and glyph system to record information on borders, gather tribute information, and standardize calendars across the region, and use the labor and goods from tribute for public works and monuments. Nonetheless, the Inca state appears to have been far more bureaucratic and invested in infrastructure across a huge swathe of land. Intriguingly, like the Incas, the Aztecs appear to have also been unsure how to respond to the Spanish threat, although Townsend is emphatic on the Spaniards NOT being perceived as gods by the Aztecs.

The tale of Mexica expansion here is one in which the Mexica went from underdogs who had to lend their warriors to more powerful altepetls to being the dominant, hegemonic one in the 1400s and early 1500s. In addition, this entailed the growth of their capital, Tenochtitlan, into a metropolis with causeways, canals, chinampas for agriculture, and tribute imposed on conquered people to fully supply the capital and its elite. Through the practice of polygyny, the Mexica elites used their marriages to women from multiple altepetls and lineages to cement alliances and intervene in the affairs of other altepetls. Since primogeniture was not the principle on which royal succession was based, marriages to multiple women were usual within the large royal Mexican clan to determine succession, often alternating it between different branches. Most of the book focuses on the cataclysmic shock of Spanish conquest and the Mexica under colonial rule.