Sickness--Death by poison--Infectious diseases--Cruel treatment
of sick and aged--Homicide--Retaliation for murder--Tribal and
personal quarrels--Diseases--Remedies--Death--Mourning--Burial.
Indians, like most coloured races, are abject cowards in pain or disease.
They will bear torture stoically enough when deliberately inflicted,
but should they suffer from any, to them, mysterious reason, in their
ignorance of natural causes they at once ascribe their affliction to
witchcraft. To this possibly may be due the hapless manner in which
they will lay them down to die, and actually succeed in doing so by
auto-suggestion.
To the Indian in common with other peoples of the lower cultures,
moreover, there is no such thing as death from natural causes. It is
the result either of poison administered in secret by an enemy, or
magical evil wrought by him or at his instigation, and the crashing
of the thunder is the magic noise that accompanies the fatal result.
If a possible enemy is known or suspected, or if, after divination,
the medicine-man can identify the culprit, it becomes the duty of the
relatives to avenge the deceased, who has, according to Indian logic,
been murdered.[274]
Without doubt a very large number of deaths are due to poison. Removal
by poison is practised to a great extent by the Karahone, who have, as
has been said, much scientific knowledge of poisons and their effects.
Further, it is the custom of the tribal medicine-man when his patients
are in what he considers to be a hopeless condition, to administer a dose
of poison quietly to the moribund sufferers after he has declared that
all his skill is in vain, and announced that recovery is impossible. For
the medicine-man it then becomes more important to secure the fulfilment
of his verdict than to risk the chance of recovery falsifying his
prognostications. The probability is that the patient would die, if for
no other reason than that the medicine-man foretold his death, but that
gentleman will take no risks.[275]
There are other and more recognised cases in which it is the
medicine-man’s province to administer a fatal draught. A mad person, for
example, is first exorcised by the medicine-man to expel his madness.
If this fails to secure the eviction of the evil spirits that cause
the madness, the man is put to death to ensure the destruction of the
bad influence which, since it passes the doctor’s power to remedy, has
presumably been sent by some hostile colleague with greater magical
gifts. Occasionally also, when any serious accident has befallen an
Indian, a medicine-man goes through the ceremony of placing him in a
secluded part of the bush, and administering the usual narcotic. The
patient is then left for the night. The next day his relatives return,
and if he is not dead he recounts to them his dreams, and from these they
deduct who is the enemy that has caused his sickness. Reprisals naturally
follow.
Should any known infectious disease break out in a tribe, those attacked
by it are immediately left, even by their closest relatives, the house is
abandoned, and possibly even burnt. Such derelict houses are no uncommon
sight in the forest, grimly desolate mementos of possible tragedies.
Perhaps the cruel treatment of the sick arises from the fact that all
disease is regarded as due to an enemy who essays by such means to
procure the destruction of the tribe. Fear is undoubtedly the root-cause.
But it must also be remembered that where life is not easy for the hale
and hearty, for the helpless it is impossible except in so far as they
can prey upon their active neighbours. The question of self-preservation
comes in to complicate the problem of the unfit. At every point it is
clearly to be seen that the survival of the most fit is the very real
and the very stern rule of life in the Amazonian forests. From birth to
death it rules the Indians’ life and philosophy. To help to preserve the
unfit would often be to prejudice the chances of the fit.[276] There are
no arm-chair sentimentalists to oppose this very practical consideration.
The Indian judges it by his standard of common sense: why live a life
that has ceased to be worth living when there is no bugbear of a hell
to make one cling to the most miserable of existences rather than risk
greater misery? Moreover, in Indian opinion, such clinging to life is a
very arrant selfishness.
Certainly cases of chronic illness meet with no sympathy from the
Indians. A man who cannot hunt or fight is regarded as useless, he is
merely a burden on the community. Should he show no signs of eventual
recovery, his friends unhesitatingly leave him to die, or, if a
medicine-man has not been commissioned to put him out of the way, he
is driven into the bush, where the same end is speedily attained. This
is done not only to the invalids, but also to the aged members of a
tribe, unless they possess great wisdom and experience, and so are of
great tribal worth. Otherwise they, too, have ceased to be units of
any practical value in tribal life, and merely hamper the more active.
Actual parricide there is none; old people are not killed, but they
are left to die. There is no sentimental desire for their company, no
affection to lighten the unhappiness of their lot. If they are unable
to tend themselves, not an Indian will go out of his way to render any
help or service. Cassava may be thrown to them occasionally, or it may be
forgotten, and without doubt in times of scarcity no provision whatever
is made for the feeble and the failing who can make none for themselves.
Slaves, of course, are looked upon as of no account, and if sick or
crippled they are abandoned without a thought. If a woman with a young
child should die, and no one be found willing to adopt the infant, the
father argues that it must die anyhow, and it is either quietly killed
and buried with the dead mother, or exposed in the bush.[277]
The reason that underlies such neglect of the sick and infirm has, on
the other hand, resulted in the prevention of intra-tribal homicide. If
the survival of the unfit is not to be desired, the existence of the
fit is to be encouraged by all possible means. On the whole, although
sick people are neglected, I do not think that they are often destroyed.
Frequently a sick Indian has appealed to me, “Oh! let me die,” but none
has ever said, “Kill me!” Intra-tribal homicide is certainly prohibited
by custom, otherwise homicide is only limited by fear of reprisal, a
more effective combination than any police force or criminal code. Even
as punishment for an admitted offence, homicide within the tribe is not
tolerated, for if a man die it means the loss of a warrior, an injury
to tribal strength, a matter not to be lightly risked where the battle
is only to the strong. There is, however, one exception to this, and
that is in the case of theft. Living as these peoples do an absolutely
public life, theft becomes of necessity a capital crime. The loser, if
he can catch the thief, will kill him by knocking him down by a blow on
the legs with the iron-wood sword, and then hacking off his head. This
retribution is considered perfectly justifiable by the tribe, and is
indeed sanctioned by custom.
After a murder has been committed it is the sacred duty of some brother
or near relative of the dead to kill the murderer, or, if not, at least a
relative of his, in accordance with the world-old idea of an eye for an
eye. A man who refused to revenge a murdered relative would be taunted
by all the women, and this would soon render his own life in the tribe
an intolerable one. But I have never come across the custom which is
prevalent in Africa among some primitive peoples, that is, to search for
the same relative to the murdered as the murdered man was to the avenger:
for example, “You have killed my nephew, I will kill your nephew.”
When an intentional murder has been committed the murderer flies to the
bush, where he is promptly followed, and the pursuit is not foregone
until the criminal is secured or the pursuers find themselves in imminent
danger from a hostile tribe. In the latter case the blood-feud remains
open for an early settlement, and the friends of the murderer are dealt
with first.
Homicide is, in fact, always looked upon as a wrong done to a man’s
tribe or family, rather than to the individual himself. In the case
of accidental homicide it may still lead to a blood-feud. The deed is
done, that is sufficient for these simple-minded folk. It may possibly
be put down to the witchcraft of some neighbouring medicine-man who has
bewitched the unintentional slayer with hostile motives; but that will
not save the unfortunate offender, rather is it an additional argument
that he should be destroyed lest worse trouble follow. There is also
to be reckoned with the idea that the dead man’s spirit will haunt the
tribe, and especially his nearest relative, until his blood has been
avenged.[278] Besides, it is undoubtedly difficult to draw the line
between accident and design, and, for the matter of that, the meaning of
the word “accident” is unknown to the Indian.
The chief and the tribe will sometimes take up the quarrel as their own,
but, on the other hand, a man considers it a disgraceful thing not to be
able to avenge his own wrongs, and, therefore, never applies to the chief
for tribal help. This is true of all small communities, an affront of any
one of the community being a personal attack upon every other member,
but it is not necessary that it should be avenged by all, unless the
affronted one be unable for any cause to complete his revenge by himself.
No tribal notice is taken of a murder committed intra-family, such as
the murder of a son or a wife, as no revenge is necessary; the loss only
affects the murderers, and it is simply arranged by the family itself.
The loss of one member does not suggest itself as a reasonable cause for
compelling the loss of another. The one exception to this would be if the
murdered man were a noted warrior whose death would constitute a serious
tribal loss. Action might then be taken by the whole tribe after the
usual tobacco palaver.
So much for death by violence; there remains something to be said of
death by disease, and of sickness not necessarily ending in death.
All travellers and writers have noticed how prone the Indian is to
sun-sickness. Living as he does in the perpetual gloom of his tribal
house, or the restricted light of the forest depths, he appears to
be exceptionally susceptible to the effects of strong sunshine. His
sensitiveness is tried further by any sort of change, even a transference
from the upper reaches to the main rivers completely upsets him. Indians
appear to go sick especially on moving only a short way from their own
locality. They are also bad subjects for malarial fevers, and the Issa
River is notoriously unhealthy in this respect. By this I mean the river
itself, and in its immediate vicinage. Even a few hundred yards away from
its banks the country is comparatively healthy and free from pestilent
fly-belts, which, it will be remembered, are at their worst some three
days steam up that river.[279] On the Brazilian frontier especially the
_pium_ from sunrise to sunset is unbearable. The beginning of the rains
invariably brings fever.
On the other hand, chest complaints are rare, respiratory disease
is unknown, and throat diseases uncommon, though you meet victims
to rheumatism and cramp. There is no venereal disease among these
tribes, and no umbilical hernia. Phimosis is common, and so are gastric
complaints. Diseases of the eye are rare, though squinting is extremely
prevalent.
There are many parasitic diseases. Ringworm and intestinal worm are very
general troubles, and lice in the head universal. Jiggers in the Indian
houses are a pest to all, and one of the daily duties of the Indian wife
consists in the examination of her man’s feet to remove any thorns or
jiggers that may have effected a lodgment. This jigger is similar to the
African species; it burrows into the foot, and lays its eggs beneath the
skin. I have had as many as thirty-seven picked out of my foot at one
time. The nuisance can be largely diminished if the traveller take the
precaution always to wear boots in or about an Indian house, for jiggers
are not found in the bush itself, though a somewhat similar pest abounds
on the leaves and grasses,[280] and causes abominable irritation. In the
Rubber Belt the usual remedy for this is a bath of white rum.
Near the Rubber Belt smallpox has found its devastating way among the
Indians. I have said that they fear any contagious disease, and will
often leave a sick person to die, so it may well be understood that a
case of smallpox causes the utmost panic and consternation.[281] Tribes
further removed from contact with “civilisation” are spared this scourge,
but I noticed a form of measles among the children. Yellow fever is not
known in the upper reaches, but I can answer for it that beriberi is, as
I fell a victim to it myself. It is very prevalent in all this country,
but it does not attack the Indians.[282]
The Napo Indians suffer from skin diseases that are not known to the
tribes in the Issa and Japura valleys. There is a bluish discoloration
and white blotch that is said to come from eating tapir.[283] Among the
Karahone one meets with cases afflicted in the same manner as natives
on the Apaporis. They are spotted with a leprosy which is said to be due
to the amount of fish that is eaten by these tribes. This disease is
otherwise unknown.
All strangers suffer from ulcers on the legs.[284] Among the Indians
themselves sores are common,[285] but I think are due entirely to
neglected wounds caused by palm-spines and so forth, not to climate and
feeding as would be the case with ourselves. Stings also have to be
reckoned with.
Indian remedies are rather symptomatic than specific;[286] the methods of
cure will be more fully dealt with in connection with the medicine-men.
The remedies are rather of the order of kill than cure. For instance,
fever is treated by the drastic method of bathing in the cold water of
the river to lower the temperature.[287] On the Napo the natives take a
concoction of tobacco-water and quinine. They make a remedy for wounds
from the bark of a tree, which they boil, and use the liquid to wash the
wound. A root found in the forest yields a narcotic much employed by the
medicine-man when it is scraped, crushed, and boiled in water. Another
remedy, acting as a counter-irritant, is a sage-green feathery moss, some
species of lichen, very dry, that grows round the roots of trees.
During my stay with the tribes I never met with any such frantic sorrow
at a death as is described by Koch-Grünberg,[288] though a mother will
cry over the body of a dead child,[289] and sobbing, wailing, and a
certain amount of excited grief is shown at a funeral, especially if it
be that of an important person.
Burial takes place without delay on the day of death. The dead man,
unwashed, is wrapped in his hammock in a sitting position, and a grave
is dug immediately below the place where the hammock was slung in his
lifetime. Though they only dig deep enough to hide the body, this custom
of intramural interment does not appear to have unhealthy effects upon
the other inhabitants of the house, and no epidemic ever seems to arise
in consequence. The dead man’s ornaments, his arms, and other personal
possessions, such as his tobacco-bag, his coca-pot, are placed in the
leaf-lined grave beside him. The whole interment is carried out with all
speed, to get the body out of the way as quickly as they possibly can.
South of the Issa a canoe or earthen jar takes the place of the hammock
for shroud, but I never met with any urn burial, primary or secondary,
among the tribes of the north.[290]
When the deceased is a woman the same procedure is followed, only pots
are buried with her in place of weapons. Among the Kuretu-language group,
when a woman dies, her pots are broken before they are placed in the
grave,[291] and her baskets are also buried with her in addition to her
ornaments. This is done to prevent the return of the soul to ask for its
properties should they be needed in the spirit world.
When a chief has died the ceremonies are more elaborate. His body,
like any other man’s, is wrapped in his palm-fibre hammock, and he is
buried with his weapons, ornaments, and private treasures. But after
the grave is filled in, the assembled tribe partake of a funeral feast.
In the intervals of drinking and dancing the mourners sing of the great
achievements, the worthiness and virtues of the dead man. The new chief
comes forward, attired in the prescribed fashion, wearing a weird and
wonderful head-dress to attract attention. He does not face the assembled
people, but turns to the wall of the house, and speaks with his back to
the tribe.
After a burial a fire is made over the new grave by the relatives, and
is always kept burning for some days, except in the case of a chief,
when the whole house is burnt. This may possibly counteract the obvious
dangers of these intramural burials, and account for the absence of evil
results.
Whatever mourning may be indulged in before the body is buried, no grief
is ever shown after the interment, for the spirit has then departed.
This belief explains why a man’s grave is not marked in any way by these
tribes, and has, as a matter of course, no claim to respect from his
survivors.
It is possible that the question of cannibal customs as insults to the
dead also influence the Indians in the matter of burial, and the absence
of sign upon a grave. It would in some measure account for the burial
in the house--as a protective measure--in spite of the fact that they
recognise the danger of the spirit’s return, a belief which would more
naturally incline them to extramural burials.
Ceremonial bathing always takes place after a funeral, in which every one
takes part for the purpose of purification.