WITH THE AYMARAS AND MOXOS
There is no part of the American continent, save perhaps Guatemala
(and, of course, the Arctic Regions), where the Indian race has
survived in such power and--relatively--such numbers as in Bolivia. At
the last census, the entire population of the republic was two
millions, and of that number the whites, blacks, and half-bloods
together amounted to less than three hundred thousand. The coast
Indians belong mainly to the Colla (more commonly called Aymara) tribe
of the Quechuan family, and, unlike the average redskin, are square
and squat in build; long in the arms and body and short in the legs;
many of them have passed their lives entirely on the mountains and
have never seen a lowland river or town.
In Bolivia there is no British Consulate, for Britishers there are
almost as rare as Samoyeds; but as a rule there is some semi-official
charge d'affaires in residence. From 1848 to 1855 this office was
filled by a young Englishman of Italian extraction--Hugh de Bonelli;
and much of that time he passed exclusively among Indians; hunting,
sight-seeing, mountaineering, and collecting natural history
specimens.
In mixing among the Aymaras, one of the first things he discovered
was that, though himself an exceptionally good walker, he was a baby
at such exercise when pitted against them. While staying at a native
village on Lake Titicaca, he expressed a wish to visit a spot rather
less attractive than the Sahara--the Atacama Desert, to wit, which
lies between the coast and the Andes. Plenty of men were willing to
guide him, though they cautioned him that they could not be spared for
more than a day or two, because a general meeting of the tribe was
about to take place. Now as the lake lies more than twelve thousand
feet above the sea-level, and when this prodigious descent had been
made, there would be several miles to traverse on foot, he wisely
abandoned the project. Nevertheless, being curious to test the truth
of the reports he had heard as to their long walks, he accompanied a
party of Aymaras who were bound for the far end of the lake with loads
of silver.
They started at sunrise, and the mountain air being deliciously cool,
he was not at first incommoded by the pace at which they went. But
that pace was five miles an hour!
He kept up easily the first two hours, and, with considerably more
difficulty, the second two; five miles in one hour, and twenty in four
hours, are however, not quite the same thing; and when he had walked
the twenty-second mile, he was ready to drop from fatigue and hunger.
Yet they showed no signs of being about to stop; and conversation was
not easy, for only one of the number understood Spanish, and that very
scantily; the language of the Aymaras being almost pure Quechuan, i.e.
the tongue of the ancient Incas, who founded their wonderful empire
when we English were vainly endeavouring to ward off invasion by the
Normans. He explained that he was both tired and hungry, and, at last
growing desperate, inquired where he could get a mule. Happily that
article was obtainable at a village which they were now approaching,
and, his curiosity thoroughly aroused as to how far they intended
going, he ambled on after them (for they had not deigned to stop while
he concluded his bargain), caught them, and kept up with them, though
he was now almost too stiff to sit his mule and too tired to enjoy the
food which he had brought with him.
The thirty-fifth mile was reached before those energetic Indians
stopped, and de Bonelli wished he had with him some of the people who
make the sweeping statement that "all Indians are lazy." He expected
to see them bivouac for at least a couple of hours; instead of this,
not one man sat down; all stood or lounged, as though they knew by
instinct that the walker who allows his muscles to relax completely is
doubling the strain of the after walk; and the standing only lasted
long enough to enable them to eat their meal--twenty minutes at the
outside. Then on again. _Seventy miles_ did these indolent wretches
walk between sunrise and sunset, only stopping for that one brief
meal. It sounds incredible, but even greater distances are stated, on
the best authority, to have been covered by members of this wonderful
tribe.
* * * * *
De Bonelli found a contrast when, after some weeks' condor and
wild-cat shooting in the mountains, he descended to the lowlands and
moved for a while among the Moxos of the Beni River. A member of this
tribe had come up to Titicaca, as ambassador from his cacique, to
treat for the barter of copper and turtle-oil for mountain silver; and
the inquiring traveller was glad to engage him as a guide to the Lower
Beni, which he was anxious to trace as far as its junction with the
Mamore, the chief feeder of the Madeira River.
De Bonelli was bound to admit that the Moxo was to be preferred as a
companion; he was chatty, light-hearted, and witty, whereas the
Aymaras had a sort of Puritan austerity and were devoid of sense of
humour; he spoke Spanish and they did not; and further, he considered
twenty miles--with a four hours' siesta between the two tens--an ample
day's walk. Better still, on the fourth day he produced a canoe from a
cunning hiding-place among the undergrowth by the river, and
thenceforward the journey became a luxurious holiday; for the woods on
either bank were, to all intents and purposes, orchards, the fish was
delicious and easily caught, and the Moxo guide kept the boat well
supplied with venison and peccary-pork.
The Indian's destination was a large village about fifty miles from
the Brazilian frontier, and, as the canoe drew near to it, de Bonelli
observed that they were continually overtaking or being overtaken by
other canoes; not tiny boats, manned singly or by twos, such as he had
seen higher up the river, but large family concerns; houseboats,
literally; for everyone carried a family and all the cooking
utensils, tools, weapons, toys, etc., that it might require.
"It is the great egg-gathering," said the Moxo enthusiastically.
"Do you mean that the whole tribe is turning out to go bird's-nesting?"
asked the white man with good-humoured contempt.
"Our birds are water-birds, with houses on their backs," laughed the
Indian. "Turtles!"
"Even then I shouldn't have thought several hundred people were
required to take the eggs."
"You shall judge presently, Senor. The cacique was sending out the
order for the people to collect when I left. No one may touch the eggs
till he grants permission."
They found the Indian village overflowing with detachments of new
arrivals. De Bonelli was introduced to the cacique, who was so
overjoyed by the present of a silver-mounted pistol that he was ready
to place the whole town and its resources at his visitor's feet.
"Pray stay among us as long as you will," he said. "Our egg-taking
begins to-morrow and will last for about a week; but, after that, I
and my tribe will be at your service, and I can promise you better
hunting than you have seen with the gloomy Aymaras."
The noise in and around the village aroused the traveller at an early
hour in the morning, and he strolled out from his tent to survey the
neighbourhood. Since the previous night the village had swelled to
four times its size; for on every side pyramidal tents had been
erected by the simple process of sticking three poles in the ground,
sloping so that the tops met, and covering the spaces between the
poles with mats made of grass or palm-leaves. The cacique was already
at breakfast, which he begged his guest to share; and, when it was
finished, he said:
"You will do me the favour to ride in my canoe. Then you will be able
to see all my people at once."
They proceeded to the water-edge and found all the tribe--nearly two
hundred men with their wives and children--seated in canoes and
impatiently awaiting their chief's arrival as the signal to start. The
moment he and his guest were embarked, a great shout went up and
paddling began with a will, the canoes moving at such a rate that the
journey to the "turtle-ground," five miles away, seemed to occupy no
time. Arrived here the chief's paddlers drew in and he and de Bonelli
landed, the tribe following in due order of importance.
As an amateur naturalist the charge d'affaires knew something of the
habits of the turtle, but he was not prepared for many things which he
saw that day. Turtles seldom lay their eggs immediately by the water;
as often as not they choose a place half a mile or more away from it.
In this case the row of "nests" took the form of a long sand-bank
which lay between two fringes of trees, and this, the traveller
learned, had been stealthily and jealously watched by spies from the
village for some weeks past, so that there could be no mistaking the
spot. Behind the cacique walked a man with a drum, and, as soon as the
bank was reached, a short "call" was beaten and all the men, every one
carrying a paddle, collected round him. The chief made a short speech,
enjoining patience, industry, and good temper, and then began to
portion off the bank among the men, each family thus being entitled to
whatever they might find in their patch.
The reader is probably aware that the turtle, like many other
reptiles, deposits her eggs in the ground, and carefully covers them
with sand or soft earth. Through this covering the fierce sun of the
tropics can easily penetrate, and in a short time--if left alone--the
young are hatched. And what a family! One to two hundred eggs, and
sometimes more, are laid by this prolific creature.[2] When every man
had taken up his station at his "claim," his wife and children went
and stood at the other side of the bank opposite him, and everyone
waited breathlessly for the signal to begin; for etiquette forbade the
stirring of a single egg till the cacique had formally opened the
patch which belonged to him. He made a sign to the drummer, who handed
him a paddle, with which he turned over a spadeful of earth.
Immediately there followed a long roll of the drum, and every man
struck his paddle into the ground and began to dig.
[2] For a further account of the turtle, see the "Romance of the
World's Fisheries," by S. Wright. (Seeley and Co.)
De Bonelli could scarcely believe his eyes; the place seemed alive
with turtle-eggs; yellowish, globular objects considerably larger than
a golf-ball, with a soft but very tough shell. As fast as a "nest" was
turned out by the digger, his wife and children collected the eggs,
throwing them into bags, baskets, or copper pots; and, by evening, the
canoes were so full that it was a wonder how the families stowed
themselves away.
The return journey was like the home-coming of a party of hop-pickers,
for jubilation and noise, the only difference being that these
benighted Moxos were perfectly sober, and that their singing consisted
mainly of hymns in a mixture of Spanish, native dialect, and truly
barbarous Latin, instead of music-hall songs. On reaching the village
each family carried its share of eggs to its tent and piled them up
outside, and a feast of some of these delicacies followed, recalling
the "herring-breakfasts" in which the more old-fashioned of our
fishermen indulge at the opening of the season.
The next day the digging was continued, though no opening ceremony was
observed, each man beginning when he thought fit; and this went on for
five days, most of which time de Bonelli spent in teaching the cacique
the use of firearms--a task which he would probably better have left
undone--and in shooting jaguars and alligators. The sixth day was
passed in the village, for the eggs were now all gathered and all the
tribe were busy converting their eggs into oil.
Large copper tanks were filled with the eggs; those Indians who had
come from a distance and could not borrow tanks, borrowed small canoes
for the purpose, which seemed to do equally well; and the owners set
to work to break the eggs, which they did by beating them with sticks,
stones, paddles, or anything that came handy. In some cases the
younger men and boys jumped into the tank and danced on them, as
though they were treading a wine-press; and by and by the various
receptacles were half full of a dirty yellow mash. The women now came
toiling up from the river-bank with pots of water, which they poured
into the tanks till the mixture rose nearly to the top.
By this time the dinner and siesta-hour had come round, and the tanks
were left to take care of themselves; good care, too, thought de
Bonelli, as he walked round, an hour or two later, with the chief.
While the workers slept, the sun had done their work for them; had
warmed the tanks, freed the oleaginous particles contained in the
eggs, and now the top of every tank was several inches deep in oil,
which the Indians were preparing to skim off and bale into their
cooking-pots; the skimming being done by means of large shells. By
evening the whole village was dotted with small fires over which hung
pots of oil; and the oil, thus clarified, was ultimately poured into
earthenware pots, corked up, and ready to be exported to the towns for
use in lamps, or carried up the river and across country to the hills,
where the Aymaras were willing to pay high prices in silver for a
product which could be used for fuel, light, or even food.