El uso de la incrustación en la escultura de los indios antillanos

Ricardo Alegria's El uso de la incrustación en la escultura de los indios antillanos covers a potentially important topic, but sadly does not take it anywhere. Essentially, it is quite similar to his work on ball courts and plazas but with fewer theories or conclusions. However, the study emphasizes how the Taino encrusted so many works of wood, cotton, stone and other materials that served utilitarian and ritual or ceremonial purposes. Some of these pieces were true masterpieces in indigenous Caribbean art, featuring gold, conch shells and other objects. The fact that gold and shell were usually used for teeth and eyes of idols, three-pointer cemis and other objects is undoubtedly significant, too. Why the mouth was filled in gold for some of the most elaborate duhos, for instance, must surely have some deeper meaning in the Taino worldview and culture. Unfortunately, Alegria does not delve into those questions here, but the number of cohoba holders, duhos and other objects that featured gold or shell encrustrations is suggestive of deeper meaning. The use of shell to represent teeth seems natural enough for anthropomorphic or zoomorphic idols and cemis, but gold for the mouth, eyes or ears might have associations with turey, and the divine realm. As for why the only remaining duho to still possess its original gold is its mouth may have been linked to the belief that the spiritual world could communicate in rituals. 

Boyá and the Indigenous Population

Source

One thing that has become exceedingly clear after reading Juan Daniel Balcácer's Enriquillo: historia y leyenda is that the legendary cacique did not die at the site of Boyá. When he passed away in 1535, the written sources describe his community as living near Bahoruco. Indeed, he may have been buried in Azua. A letter from 1547, cited by Balcácer, mentions the destruction of Enrique's pueblo by African maroons, after stating that these subjects of Enrique lived in the foothills of Bahoruco. In addition, a letter by Las Casas from 1534 describes Enrique's pueblo as about 7 leagues away from Azua. This does not sound like it would have been anywhere near Boyá in Monte Plata. However, what if the remnants of Enrique's community did move to the area of Boyá later on? While the survivors were said to be few, 8 or 10, perhaps they were joined by other survivors and then later joined by other indigenes of Hispaniola.

The evidence to support this theory is very thin. However, the rather detailed and perhaps elaborate Indian pueblo of Boyá described by Charlevoix does not strike one as entirely fictional. According to Charlevoix, the pueblo was headed by the self-titled "cacique of the island of Haiti." Supposedly, the bourgade attracted around 4000 Indians when first founded, which must be an exaggerated. However, according to a document he claimed to have seen, the population of the pueblo had dropped to 30 men and 50 or 60 women. Most of the subsequent scholars who described this community often repeated some or parts of Charlevoix's description, all agreeing that it was the town of Enrique's followers and last bastion of the island's native population. For an example of another French Jesuit who mentioned the pueblo, a short allusion to it was made in a letter by Fr. Margat from 1729. According to Margat, this small canton of indigenous people was unknown for a long time. Perhaps he meant unknown to the French, since Boyá was usually the only town of Indians mentioned in the 1600s and 1700s.

Rodriguez Demorizi's Relaciones Históricas De Santo Domingo is a priceless resource.

In addition to Charlevoix and Margat, one can also find early Spanish references to the town. One early reference to the community by Luis Geronimo Alcocer, was written in 1650. Already, in 1650, he wrote of a pueblo de indios "que oi no tiene seis vecinos."Intriguingly, Alcocer did not make any reference to Enrique, solely describing the town as the only place where Indians could be found. Elsewhere, fortunately, he offered an explanation for the town's depopulation. Apparently, several residents of the town had migrated elsewhere in the colony to search for work. Their community still had 6 houses and perhaps those who had left retained some tie to the community. If many of its vecinos had already left the pueblo for economic reasons by 1650, perhaps that is why the gender imbalance was so pronounced when Charlevoix wrote of the community in the 18th century. A somewhat later source, Domingo Fernandez Navarrete, also wrote about Boyá. According to him, in 1678, the town only had 2 Indians, both mixed-race (mestizo and castizo). 

Another Spanish source on the community can be found in a work by Domingo Pantaleon Alvarez de Abreu, written in 1740. According to this source, Boyá's population had 65 Indians and 11 slaves. So, the community included about 65 Indians in 1740, and about 80-90 adults according to Charlevoix. Perhaps due to the community's pattern of male outmigration, their numbers were in constant flux. According to Antonio Sanchez de Valverde, however, the community by the late 18th century only consisted of mestizos, some of whom descended from people from the mainland. This could be also related to the possible relocation of Indians from other parts of the Americas to Boyá. For example, Indians from Campeche or other indigenous peoples brought to the island by the French but intercepted or seized by the Spanish colonial authorities. Nevertheless, by 1785, the town only had 25 or 30 mestizos. 

The late 18th century brings us to Moreau de Saint-Méry, one of the most interesting on the question of Boyá and Enriquillo. While he mostly repeated what was already written on the subject by Charlevoix, something Thomas Madiou also did in the 19th century, he added a few new elements. First, he testified to the claims of indigenous ancestry by some of the mixed-race people in the Spanish colony. As Nau later observed, Dominicans, especially women, of certain features and long hair, were called indios. For our French observer, they also laid claim to aboriginal ancestry with pride. This is evidence for the longevity of the "indio" self-ascription among the mixed-race population in the Spanish Caribbean. Long before Trujillo and the conflicts between Haiti and the DR, some of the multiracial Creoles of the island called themselves Indians and claimed indigenous ancestry. Of course, Moreau de Saint-Méry saw them as people of mixed-race ancestry in which, for some, indigenous features could be occasionally observed. In addition, our author also claimed that several Indians in Banique successfully proved their descent from Enriquillo's subjects in 1744. While Banique, close to Hinche, is rather distant from Boyá, this anecdote could be a reflection of outmigration from the community, some of which reached Banique by this time. Unfortunately, there are no sources to corroborate this claim by Moreau de Saint-Méry. As for our pueblo of interest, he mostly restated past descriptions of the town, particularly those of Charlevoix and Sanchez Valverde.

After this brief review of some of our sources on the pueblo, what can one actually say about Enriquillo and Boyá? First, that the town was not associated with Enriquillo during his lifetime. If it has any connection with the followers of Enriquillo, it must have developed after the destruction of the original settlement. That said, the claim by Charlevoix that the town claimed a connection to Enriquillo may have had a kernel of truth. Since we do not know what happened to the survivors of the maroon attack that destroyed the original town, perhaps the survivors were resettled in the area of Boyá. Indeeed, perhaps Enriquillo's cousin or his wife, assuming they were still alive, had an opportunity to lead the community in the new town. Then, assuming Charlevoix was not entirely incorrect, other indigenous people of the island may have been resettled in Boyá, boosting its population. This theory, while not verifiable with sources, may explain why so many writers associated Boyá with Enriquillo. Alternatively, it is possible the founders of Boyá invited the survivors of Enriquillo's community and sought to use them to ensure legal protections and privileges from the government. Regardless of how and under what conditions the connections were made, the claim by Moreau de Saint-Méry that people claiming descent from Enriquillo's subjects were found in Banique, near Hinche, if true, provides evidence that his followers may have reconstituted themselves at Boyá. Then, dispersing to make a living, some reached Banique. While these Indians described by Moreau de Saint-Méry may have also been motivated by legal protections and the honor attached to Enriquillo, their success in convincing the colonial authorities must have relied on some strong evidence, perhaps origins in Boyá. 

Legend and History of Haiti's Last Cacique

Enriquillo at the Museo del Hombre Dominicano

Juan Daniel Balcácer's Enriquillo: historia y leyenda is a fascinating read on the "last cacique of Haiti. A person admired and commemorated by Dominicans and Haitians alike, Enrique's rebellion inspired nationalist movements among both peoples. The reality, however, was rather different from the legend we have constructed. While undoubtedly an important figure and one whose alzamiento inspired resistance among Africans and Indians during his lifetime, including indigenous people in other islands, such as Cuba, the actual history of Enrique is a more ambivalent legacy. By highlighting the actual history of Enrique from what can be verified with written sources, what emerges is a complex figure who merged aspects of Spanish and Taino culture. 

His resistance, sparked by personal abuse and affronts from his encomendero, only transformed into a long-lasting alzamiento in the Bahoruco region after he failed to find justice through the colonial system. However, once peace was accorded in 1533, Enrique agreed to police the countryside in order to hunt runaway Indians and Africans. In exchange for having a recognized community of his own close followers, not too far from the Bahoruco (and not the Boya near Monte Plata, as many of us have erroneously assumed), Enrique clearly agreed to cooperate with the brutal, dehumanizing systems of the encomienda and chattel slavery. Indeed, according to a letter from 1547, included in the text, the community founded by Enrique was actually destroyed by African maroons, who had a score to settle with them. This implies that the community was probably supporting the Spanish by spying on and fighting African runaways in Bahoruco after Enrique died in 1535. The very same primary sources included in the appendix of the text also allude to cultural survival of aspects of Taino culture. For example, the areitos were very much still observed in 1547, much to the chagrin of the Spanish. Indeed, the survival of areitos was believed to also be one of the reasons non-Christian religious practices were revived or maintained. One wonders to what extent Enrique's community maintained these practices, despite their leader's Catholicism and the meeting with Las Casas in which Tamayo was baptized. 

In light of Enrique's past as someone who, despite suffering from the massacre of Jaragua's elite ordered by Ovando, was raised and educated by Christians and therefore at least partially Hispanicized, his collaboration with the colonial system is perhaps not too surprising. However, this collaboration, which involved defending the very same system that other Indians and Africans continued to resist, makes it difficult to justify the legends of Enrique as a liberator who fought for the freedom of  Indians, an end to colonialism, and emancipation for Africans. The reality, based at least on the documents and Spanish chroniclers, was closer to Enrique acting in his own interests and only for those of his community. His resistance movement, however, was costly for the Spanish crown and inspired other Indians to flee to the mountainous areas. Nonetheless, their resistance was not unified and perhaps this was due to Enrique coming from the acculturated Taino elite, one that had been pacified or destroyed in the conquest and, in some cases, reared in Spanish culture. Other Indian rebels of Hispaniola, such as African maroons, may have been more likely to have desired an end to the encomiendas and slavery. However, it is interesting to note, as mentioned by Pichardo Moya's study of Cuba's Indians, how some Indian rebels of Guama were recorded in 1533 as hoping for Enrique's arrival. Perhaps the immediate legacy and influence of Enrique was to inspire other communities to resist, even after he made peace with the colonizers when Francisco de Barrionuevo met him. Indeed, if the letter written by Enrique is any indication, it is possible he truly saw himself as a worthy vassal of the Emperor and accepted Spanish rule.

Due to the aforementioned collaborationist agreement of Enrique, Balcácer finds the legends created around him to be worthy of historical criticism. Despite the numerous places named after him and literary tributes to Enrique, the legends have masked the reality of an "Hispanicized" Indian who, ultimately, only fought to secure his own community's survival. The fact that they were later destroyed by runaway Africans further illustrates the complex rivalries and conflicts that prevented unification of the oppressed majority of the island's population. Indeed, the ultimate destruction of Enrique's pueblo by Africans makes it interesting to see Haitian nationalist legends about Enrique. Whatever African-Indian collaboration in marronage that occurred, Enrique was probably far from exemplifying. It is lamentable for us Haitians due to Enrique's kinship with Anacaona and the fact that his wife, Mencia, was said to be a granddaughter of Anacaona. As much as we would like for things to have been different, the legend of Enrique at least helps both Haitians and Dominicans claim deeper, precolonial roots. Like so many protagonists in our legends, the real Enrique was far more complex and contradictory than one would like. Nevertheless, let us hope that his tomb is one day found in Azua and he continues to receive our admiration for the longevity of his movement that inspired others to combat colonial oppression. 

Jiguani's Church in 1801

The church of San Pablo in Jiguani, Cuba, as it looked in 1801. The pueblo was one of the Indian communities in Cuba, although only founded in 1701. Sadly, PARES does not have more digitized records of this community.

Indios Macurijes

It is astonishing to us that there were Macurije Indians of Cuba who were not subjugated until 1576. While their ultimate fate is not clear, they were presumably forced to labor for Cristobal Sotolongo after he encountered and relocated them from their hideout. This reminds us of similar references in Hispaniola to Indians residing in hidden spots of the mountains and hills to escape colonial rule and exploitation. PARES is a priceless resource. 

Indios Naturales de Haiti

While randomly perusing PARES, we encountered more documents that allude to indigenous communities surviving in Hispaniola after 1550. One document, from 1555, mentioned 3 or 4 different hidden communities of Indians native to the island. One of them was apparently in the the area of today's Haiti. Another was located in Samana and the one located in "Aguayo" was probably in the area once associated with the Ciguayo Indians, perhaps. The last one mentioned with a specific location was located near Puerto Plata. Indeed, it was this one, where a white man named Villapando seized people. Villapando, looking for runaway Africans, must have been surprised to find a community of native people. Apparently, the government knew little about these hidden communities and there could have been more than 4, since unknown communities of were said to exist in Cabo Tiburon. While the government called for Villapando to let those Tainos seized from the pueblo near Puerto Plata go free, the fate of these communities is unknown. Given the fact that Indians were still secretly enslaved or sold in nearby Puerto Rico and the similar complaints of labor shortages from Santo Domingo, one would expect that Tainos seized from these communities were forced to provide labor in the colonial settlements. A few, perhaps in the more remote areas such as Cabo Tiburon, may have been able to resist longer.

We know that in 1563, hidden communities of Indians were still suspected on the island. One priest even went to the trouble of searching for them in the mountains and hills of Hispaniola. They were said to be in Aguayo, Cape San Nicholas, and Cabo Tiburon, again areas where indigenous people were hiding in 1555. The priest, Francisco Juan de Ortega, was tasked with trying to convince them to move to areas where it would be easier for the Church to convert them. However, by promising them they would not have to serve any Spaniards, Ortega was mistreated by the whites and faced opposition from them. How long these indios naturales were able to resist Spanish attempts to control their labor is unknown. In 1571, when Lopez de Velasco's Geografía y descripción universal de las Indias was published, he wrote that Hispaniola only had 2 pueblos de indios with a population of 50. However, his sources may have been outdated or incomplete. And if his reports of depopulated towns such as Yaquimo were correct, it is possible indigenous people were able to remain hidden in parts of the island like Cabo Tiburon. 

Despite the paucity of details, the survival of indigenous communities into the 2nd half of the 16th century challenges the theory of Taino extinction. Similarly, the fact that the Church was, at least on paper, expressing great concern over their religious salvation, suggests that indigenous religious practices were still maintained. The fact that they had to be promised protection from the abuse of the Spanish certainly supports the contention of scholars like Guitar and certain Taino revivalists. The colonial government was unable to actually know how many indigenous people were on the island and they also had motives to lie or minimize it when they illegally enslaved or abused them. In addition, "indios naturales" also appear in the archive for the 17th century. Indeed, we have a record of Ignacio Dominguez, indio natural of Santo Domingo, returning to the island in 1621. While it is possible his parents were not natives of the island, the evidence overall supports Taino survival.

Indios in 1550

As pointed out by many modern historians since Salvador Brau, Indians did not disappear from Puerto Rico. One reference to them can be found in a letter from Governor Vallejo to the Crown on PARES, mentioning how some Indians were still secretly sold and treated like slaves in the colony. This is interesting since Charles V had already outlawed Indian slavery. When it was implemented in Puerto Rico, according to Brau, in 1544, only 70 native Indians of the island were found and freed. Undoubtedly, this was an undercount as some vecinos of the island hid their Indians. Even Vallejo himself, in another letter from August 1550, mentioned a monastery run by the Dominican order that possessed black and Indian labor. There were also indios on the island of Mona, supposedly devout Christians. At some point, a pueblo called Cibuco was also established with indios (mentioned by Lopez Velasco). References to "indios" in Arecibo as well as Quebrada de Doña Catalina in the 1560s certainly suggests Indians, both native and foreign, were still around.

What is most intriguing about the December 14, 1550 letter is the hints it provides about the Indians of Puerto Rico. The complete letter, for instance, mentions the superstitions of the Indians and discusses the need to ensure their instruction in the Catholic faith. Thus, Vallejo seems to be in support of Indians remaining with an amo, provided they are paid for their labor, dressed and receive religious instruction. Indeed, it was better to leave them with white employers than risk them joining the negros or persisting in their religious errors. Indeed, why separate them from their owners and risk them turning into vagabonds? Moreover, Vallejo described them as "liviana" and "supersticiosa" people who liked to join blacks. This letter, despite its brevity, nonetheless indicates Spanish elite fears of African and Indian collaboration.