THE TROPICAL FORESTS: THE ORINOCO AND GUIANA
I. LANDS AND PEOPLES
Among earth's great continental bodies South America is second only
to Australia in isolation. This is true not only geographically,
but also in regard to flora and fauna, and in respect of its human
aborigines and their cultures. To be sure, within itself the continent
shows a diversity as wide, perhaps, as that of any; and certainly
no continent affords a sharper contrast both of environment and of
culture than is that of the Andes and the civilized Andeans to the
tropical forests with their hordes of unqualified savages. There are,
moreover, streams of influence reaching from the southern toward
the northern America--the one, by way of the Isthmus, tenuously
extending the bond of civilization in the direction of the cultured
nations of Central America and Mexico; the other carrying northward
the savagery of the tropics by the thin line of the Lesser Antilles;
and it is, of course, possible that this double movement, under way
in Columbian days, was the retroaction of influences that had at
one time moved in the contrary direction. Yet, on the whole, South
America has its own distinct character, whether of savagery or of
civilization, showing little certain evidence of recent influence from
other parts of the globe. _Au fond_ the cultural traits--implements,
social organization, ideas--are of the types common to mankind at
similar levels; but their special developments have a distinctly South
American character, so that, whether we compare Inca with Aztec,
or Amazonian with Mississippian, we perceive without hesitancy the
continental idiosyncracy of each. It is certain that South America
has been inhabited from remote times; it is certain, too, that her
aboriginal civilizations are ancient, reckoned even by the Old World
scale. A daring hypothesis would make this continent an early, and
perhaps the first home of the human species--a theory that would not
implausibly solve certain difficulties, assuming that the differences
which mark aboriginal North from aboriginal South America are due to
the fact that the former continent was the meeting-place and confluence
of two streams--a vastly ancient, but continuous, northward flow from
the south, turned and coloured by a thinner and later wash of Asiatic
sources.[154]
The peoples of South America are grouped by d'Orbigny,[155] as result
of his ethnic studies of _l'homme américain_ made during the expedition
of 1826-33, into three great divisions, or races: the Ando-Peruvian,
comprising all the peoples of the west coast as far as Tierra del
Fuego; the Pampean, including the tribes of the open countries of the
south; and the Brasilio-Guaranian, composed of the stocks of those
tropical forests which form the great body of the South American
continent. With modifications this threefold grouping of the South
American aborigines has been maintained by later ethnologists. One
of the most recent studies in this field (W. Schmidt, "Kulturkreise
und Kulturschichten in Südamerika," in _ZE_ xlv [1913]), while still
maintaining the triple classification, nevertheless shows that the
different groups have mingled and intermingled in confusing complexity,
following successive cycles of cultural influence. Schmidt's division
is primarily on the basis of cultural traits, with reference to which
he distinguishes three primary groups: (1) Peoples of the "collective
grade," who live by hunting, fishing, and the gathering of plants,
with the few exceptions of tribes that have learned some agriculture
from neighbours of a higher culture. In this group are the Gez, or
Botocudo, and the Puri-Coroados stocks of the east and south-east of
Brazil; the stocks of the Gran Chaco, the Pampas, and Tierra del Fuego;
while the Araucanians and certain tribes of the eastern cordilleras of
the Andes are also placed in this class. (2) Groups of peoples of the
_Hackbaustufe_, mostly practicing agriculture and marked by a general
advance in the arts, as well as by the presence of a well-defined
patriarchy and evidences of totemism in their social organization. In
this group are included the great South American linguistic stocks--the
Cariban, Arawakan, and Tupi-Guaranian, inhabiting the forests and
semi-steppes of the regions drained by the Orinoco and Amazon and their
tributaries, as well as the tribes of the north-east coast of the
continent. (3) Groups of the cultured peoples of the Andes--Chibcha,
Incaic, and Calchaqui.
The general arrangement of these three divisions follows the contour
of the continent. The narrow mountain ridge of the west coast is the
seat of the civilized peoples; the home of the lowest culture is the
east coast, extending in a broad band of territory from the highlands
of the Brazilian provinces of Pernambuco and Bahia south-westward to
the Chilean Andes and Patagonia; between these two, occupying the whole
centre of the continent, with a broad base along the northern coast and
narrowing wedge-like to the south, is the region of the intermediate
culture group.
Most of what is known of the mythology of South American peoples
comes from tribes and nations of the second and third groups--from
the Andeans whose myths have been sketched in preceding chapters, and
from the peoples of the tropic forests. The region inhabited by the
latter group is too vast to be treated as a simple unit; nor is there,
in the chaotic intermixture of tongues and tribes, any clear ethnic
demarcation of ideas. In default of other principle, it is appropriate
and expedient, therefore, to follow the natural division of the
territory into the geographical regions broadly determined by the great
river-systems that traverse the continent. These are three: in the
north the Orinoco, with its tributaries, draining the region bounded on
the west by the Colombian plateau and the Llanos of the Orinoco, and
on the south by the Guiana Highlands; in the centre the Amazon, the
world's greatest river, the mouth of which is crossed by the Equator,
while the stream itself closely follows the equatorial line straight
across the continent to the Andes, though its great tributaries drain
the central continent, many degrees to the south; and in the south the
Rio de la Plata, formed by the confluence of the Paraná and Uruguay,
and receiving the waters of the territories extending from El Gran
Chaco to the Pampas, beyond which the Patagonian plains and Chilean
Andes taper southward to the Horn. In general, the Orinoco region is
the home of the Carib and Arawak tribes; the Amazonian region is the
seat and centre of the Tupi-Guaranians; while the region extending
from the Rio de la Plata to the Horn is the aboriginal abode of
various peoples, mostly of inferior culture. It should be borne in
mind, however, that the simplicity of this plan is largely factitious.
Linguistically, aboriginal South America is even more complex than
North America (at least above Mexico); and the whole central region
is a _mélange_ of verbally unrelated stocks, of which, for the
continent as a whole, Chamberlain's incomplete list gives no less than
eighty-three.[156]
II. SPIRITS AND SHAMANS
"The aborigines of Guiana," writes Brett,[157] "in their naturally
wild and untaught condition, have had a confused idea of the existence
of one good and supreme Being, and of many inferior spirits, who are
supposed to be of various kinds, but generally of malignant character.
The Good Spirit they regard as the Creator of all, and, as far as we
could learn, they believe Him to be immortal and invisible, omnipotent
and omniscient. But notwithstanding this, we have never discovered
any trace of religious worship or adoration paid to Him by any tribe
while in its natural condition. They consider Him as a Being too high
to notice them; and, not knowing Him as a God that heareth prayer,
they concern themselves but little about Him." In another passage
the same writer states that the natives of Guiana "all maintain the
Invisibility of the Eternal Father. In their traditionary legends they
never confound _Him_--the Creator,--the '_Ancient of Heaven_'--with
the mythical personages of what, for want of a better term, we must
call their heroic age; and though sorcerers claim familiarity with,
and power to control, the inferior (and malignant) spirits, none would
ever pretend to hold intercourse with _Him_, or that it were possible
for mortal man to behold _Him_." A missionary to the same region,
Fray Ruiz Blanco,[158] earlier by some two hundred years, says of the
religion of these aborigines that, "The false rites and diableries
with which the multitude are readily duped are innumerable ... briefly
... there is the seated fact that all are idolaters, and there is the
particular fact that all abhor and greatly fear the devil, whom they
call Iboroquiamio."
Minds of a scientific stamp see the matter somewhat differently.
"The natives of the Orinoco," Humboldt declares,[159] "know no other
worship than that of the powers of nature; like the ancient Germans
they deify the mysterious object which excites their simple admiration
(_deorum nominibus appellant secretum illud, quod sola reverentia
vident_)." From the point of view of an ethnologist of the school
of Tylor, im Thurn describes the religion of the Indians of Guiana:
Having no belief in a hierarchy of spirits, they can have, he says,
"none in any such beings as in higher religions are called gods....
It is true that various words have been found in all, or nearly all,
the languages, not only of Guiana, but also of the whole world, which
have been supposed to be the names of a great spirit, supreme being,
or god"; nevertheless, he concludes, "the conception of a God is not
only totally foreign to Indian habits of thought, but belongs to a much
higher stage of intellectual development than any attained by them."
It is from such contrary evidences as these that the true character
of aboriginal beliefs must be reconstructed. Im Thurn says of the
native names that they "to some extent acquired a sense which the
missionaries imparted to them"; and when we meet, in such passages as
that quoted from Brett, the ascription of attributes like omniscience
and omnipotence to primitive divinities, there is indeed cause for
humour at the missionary's expense. But there are logical idols in more
than one trade; the ethnologists have their full share of them. Im
Thurn gives us a list of indigenous appellations of the Great Spirit of
Guiana:
Carib Tribes:
_True Caribs_: Tamosi ("the Ancient One"); Tamosi kabotano
("the Ancient One in the Sky").
_Ackawoi_: Mackonaima (meaning unknown).
_Macusi_: Kutti (probably only Macusi-Dutch for "God").
Arawak Tribes: Wa murreta kwonci ("our Maker"); Wa cinaci ("our
Father"); Ifilici wacinaci ("our Great Father").
Warrau-Wapianan: Kononatoo ("our Maker"); Tominagatoo (meaning
unknown).
Of all these names im Thurn remarks that in those whose meanings are
known "only three ideas are expressed--(1) One who lived long ago and
is now in sky-land; (2) the maker of the Indians; and (3) their father.
None of these ideas," he continues, "in any way involve the attributes
of a god...."[160] Obviously, acceptance of this negation turns upon
one's understanding of the meaning of "god."
The Cariban Makonaima (there are many variants, such as Makanaima,
Makunaima, and the like) is a creator-god and the hero of a cosmogony.
It is possible that his name connects him with the class of Kenaima
(or Kanaima), avengers of murder and bringers of death, who are often
regarded as endowed with magical or mysterious powers; and in this
case the term may be analogous to the Wakanda and Manito of the
northern continent. Schomburgk[161] states that Makunaima means "one
who works in the night"; and if this be true, it is curious to compare
with such a conception the group of Arawakan demiurgic beings whom
he describes. According to the Arawak myths, a being Kururumany was
the creator of men, while Kulimina formed women. Kururumany was the
author of all good, but coming to earth to survey his creation, he
discovered that the human race had become wicked and corrupt; wherefore
he deprived them of everlasting life, leaving among them serpents,
lizards, and other vermin. Wurekaddo ("She Who Works in the Dark")
and Emisiwaddo ("She Who Bores Through the Earth") are the wives of
Kururumany; and Emisiwaddo is identified as the _cushi_-ant, so that we
have here an interesting suggestion of world-building ants, for which
analogues are to be found far north in America, in the Pueblos and on
the North-West Coast. There is, however, a _fainéant_ god high above
Kururumany, one Aluberi, pre-eminent over all, who has no concern for
the affairs of men; while other supreme beings mentioned by Schomburgk
are Amalivaca--who is, however, rather a Trickster-Hero--and the group
that, among the Maipuri, corresponds to the Arawakan family of divine
beings, Purrunaminari ("He Created Men"), Taparimarru, his wife, and
Sisiri, his son, whom she, without being touched by him, conceived to
him from the mere love he bore her--a myth in which, as Schomburgk
observes, we should infer European influence.
Humboldt, in describing the religion of the Orinoco aborigines
says[162] of them that "they call the good spirit Cachimana; it is the
Manitou, the Great Spirit, that regulates the seasons and favours the
harvests. Along with Cachimana there is an evil principle, Iolokiamo,
less powerful, but more artful, and in particular more active." On the
whole, this characterization represents the consensus of observation
of traveller, missionary, and scientist from Columbian days to the
present and for the wilder tribes of the whole of both South and North
America. There is a good being, the Great Spirit, more or less remote
from men, often little concerned with human or terrene affairs, but the
ultimate giver of life and light, of harvest food and game food. There
is an evil principle, sometimes personified as a Lord of Darkness,
although more often conceived not as a person, but as a mischievous
power, or horde of powers, manifested in multitudes of annoying forms.
Among shamanistic tribes little attention is paid to the Good Power; it
is too remote to be seriously courted; or, if it is worshipped, solemn
festivals, elaborate mysteries, and priestly rites are the proper
agents for attracting its attention. On the other hand, the Evil Power
in all its innumerable and tricky embodiments, must be warded off by
constant endeavour--by shamanism, "medicine," magic. The tribes of the
Orinoco region are, _ab origine_, mainly in the shamanistic stage. The
peaiman is at once priest, doctor, and magician, whose main duty is
to discover the deceptive concealment of the malicious Kenaima and,
by his exorcisms, to free men from the plague. That the Kenaima is of
the nature of a spirit appears from the fact that the term is applied
to human malevolences, especially when these find magic manifestation,
as well as to evils emanating from other sources. Thus, the avenger of
a murder is a Kenaima, and he must not only exact life for life; he
must achieve his end by certain means and with rites insuring himself
against the ill will of his victim's spirit. Again, the Were-Jaguar is
a Kenaima. "A jaguar which displays unusual audacity," says Brett,[163]
"will often unnerve even a brave hunter by the fear that it may be a
_Kanaima tiger_. 'This,' reasons the Indian, 'if it be but an ordinary
wild beast, I may kill with bullet or arrow; but what will be my fate
if I assail the man-destroyer--the terrible _Kanaima_?'"
The Kenaima, the man-killer, whether he be the human avenger upon
whom the law of a primitive society has imposed the task of exacting
retribution, or whether he be the no less dreaded inflicter of death
through disease, or magically induced accident, or by shifting skins
with a man-slaying beast, is only one type of the spirits of evil.
Others are the Yauhahu and Orehu (Arawak names for beings which are
known to the other tribes by other titles). The Yauhahu are the
familiars of sorcerers, the peaimen, who undergo a long period of
probationary preparation in order to win their favour and who hold it
only by observing the most stringent tabus in the matter of diet. The
Orehu are water-sprites, female like the mermaids, and they sometimes
drag man and canoe down to the depths of their aquatic haunts; yet they
are not altogether evil, for Brett tells a story, characteristically
American Indian, of the origin of a medicine-mystery. In very ancient
times, when the Yauhahu inflicted continual misery on mankind, an
Arawak, walking besides the water and brooding over the sad case of
his people, beheld an Orehu rise from the stream, bearing in her
hand a branch which he planted as she bade him, its fruit being the
calabash, till then unknown. Again she appeared, bringing small white
pebbles, which she instructed him to enclose in the gourd, thus
making the magic-working rattle; and instructing him in its use and
in the mysteries of the Semecihi, this order was established among
the tribes. The "Semecihi" are of course, the medicine-men of the
Arawak, corresponding to the Carib peaimen, though the word itself
would seem to be related to the Taïno _zemi_. Relation to the Islanders
is, indeed, suggested by the whole myth, for the Orehu is surely only
the mainland equivalent for the Haitian woman-of-the-sea, Guabonito,
who taught the medicine-hero, Guagugiana, the use of amulets of white
stones and of gold.
III. HOW EVILS BEFELL MANKIND
Not many primitive legends are more dramatically vivid than the Carib
story of Maconaura and Anuanaïtu,[164] and few myths give a wider
insight into the ideas and customs of a people. The theme of the tale
is very clearly the coming of evil as the consequence of a woman's
deed, although the motive of her action is not mere curiosity, as
in the tale of Pandora, but the more potent passion of revenge--or,
rather, of that vengeful retribution of the _lex talionis_ which is
the primitive image of justice. In an intimate fashion, too, the story
gives us the spirit of Kenaima at work, while its _dénouement_ suggests
that the restless Orehu, the Woman of the Waters, may be none other
than the authoress of evil, the liberatress of ills.
In a time long past, so long past that even the grandmothers of our
grandmothers were not yet born, the Caribs of Surinam say, the world
was quite other than what it is today: the trees were forever in fruit;
the animals lived in perfect harmony, and the little agouti played
fearlessly with the beard of the jaguar; the serpents had no venom; the
rivers flowed evenly, without drought or flood; and even the waters of
cascades glided gently down from the high rocks. No human creature had
as yet come into life, and Adaheli, whom now we invoke as God, but who
then was called the Sun, was troubled. He descended from the skies,
and shortly after man was born from the cayman, born, men and women,
in the two sexes. The females were all of a ravishing beauty, but many
of the males had repellent features; and this was the cause of their
dispersion, since the men of fair visage, unable to endure dwelling
with their ugly fellows, separated from them, going to the West, while
the hideous men went to the East, each party taking the wives whom they
had chosen.
Now in the tribe of the handsome Indians lived a certain young man,
Maconaura, and his aged mother. The youth was altogether charming--tall
and graceful, with no equal in hunting and fishing, while all men
brought their baskets to him for the final touch; nor was his old
mother less skilled in the making of hammocks, preparation of cassava,
or brewing of _tapana_. They lived in harmony with one another and with
all their tribe, suffering neither from excessive heat nor from foggy
chill, and free from evil beasts, for none existed in that region.
One day, however, Maconaura found his basket-net broken and his fish
devoured, a thing such as had never happened in the history of the
tribe; and so he placed a woodpecker on guard when next he set his
trap; but though he ran with all haste when he heard the _toc! toc!_ of
the signal, he came too late; again the fish were devoured, and the net
was broken. With cuckoo as guard he fared better, for when he heard the
_pon! pon!_ which was this bird's signal, he arrived in time to send
an arrow between the ugly eyes of a cayman, which disappeared beneath
the waters with a _glou! glou!_ Maconaura repaired his basket-net and
departed, only to hear again the signal, _pon! pon!_ Returning, he
found a beautiful Indian maiden in tears. "Who are you?" he asked.
"Anuanaïtu," she replied. "Whence come you?" "From far, far." "Who are
your kindred?" "Oh, ask me not that!" and she covered her face with her
hands.
The maiden, who was little more than a child, lived with Maconaura and
his mother; and as she grew, she increased in beauty, so that Maconaura
desired to wed her. At first she refused with tears, but finally she
consented, though the union lacked correctness in that Maconaura had
not secured the consent of her parents, whose name she still refused
to divulge. For a while the married pair lived happily until Anuanaïtu
was seized with a great desire to visit her mother; but when Maconaura
would go with her, she, in terror, urged the abandonment of the trip,
only to find her husband so determined that he said, "Then I will go
alone to ask you in marriage of your kin." "Never, never that!" cried
Anuanaïtu; "That would be to destroy us all, us two and your dear
mother!" But Maconaura was not to be dissuaded, for he had consulted a
peaiman who had assured him that he would return safely; and so he set
forth with his bride.
After several weeks their canoe reached an encampment, and Anuanaïtu
said: "We are arrived; I will go in search of my mother. She will bring
to you a gourd filled with blood and raw meat, and another filled
with _beltiri_ [a fermented liquor] and cassava bread. Our lot depends
on your choice." The young man, when his mother-in-law appeared,
unhesitatingly took the _beltiri_ and bread, whereupon the old woman
said, "You have chosen well; I give my consent to your marriage, but
I fear that my husband will oppose it strongly." Kaikoutji ("Jaguar")
was the husband's name. The two women went in advance to test his
temper toward Maconaura's suit; but his rage was great, and it was
necessary to hide the youth in the forest until at last Kaikoutji was
mollified to such a degree that he consented to see the young man, only
to have his anger roused again at the sight, so that he cried, "How
dare you approach me?" Maconaura responded: "True, my marriage with
your daughter is not according to the rites. But I am come to make
reparation. I will make for you whatever you desire." "Make me, then,"
cried the other contemptuously, "a _halla_ [sorcerer's stool] with the
head of a jaguar on one side and my portrait on the other." By midnight
Maconaura had completed the work, excepting for the portrait; but here
was a difficulty, for Kaikoutji kept his head covered with a calabash,
pierced only with eye-holes; and when Maconaura asked his wife to
describe her parent, she replied: "Impossible! My father is a peaiman;
he knows all; he would kill us both." Maconaura concealed himself near
the hammock of his father-in-law, in hopes of seeing his face; and
first, a louse, then, a spider, came to annoy Kaikoutji, who killed
them both without showing his visage. Finally, however, an army of ants
attacked him furiously, and the peaiman, rising up in consternation,
revealed himself--his whole horrible head. Maconaura appeared with
the _halla_, completed, when morning came. "That will not suffice,"
said Kaikoutji, "in a single night you must make for me a lodge formed
entirely of the most beautiful feathers." The young man felt himself
lost, but multitudes of humming-birds and jacamars and others of
brilliant plumage cast their feathers down to him, so that the
lodge was finished before daybreak, whereupon Maconaura was received as
the recognized husband of Anuanaïtu.
[Illustration: PLATE XXXIX.]
1. Stone seat from Manabi, Ecuador. See page 206. After Saville,
_Antiquities of Manabi, Ecuador_, Vol. II, Plate XXXVIII.
2. Painted wooden seat from Guiana--such a _halla_ as is referred to
in the tale of Maconaura and Anuanaïtu, page 264. After _30 ARBE_,
Plate V.
3. Central American carved stone metate in the collection of Geo. S.
Walsh, Lincoln, Neb.
The time soon came, however, when he wished again to see his mother,
but as Kaikoutji refused to allow Anuanaïtu to accompany the youth,
he set off alone. Happy days were spent at home, he telling his
adventures, the mother recounting the tales of long ago which had been
dimly returning to her troubled memory; and when Maconaura would return
to his wife, the old mother begged him to stay, while the peaiman
warned him of danger; but he was resolved and departed once more,
telling his mother that he would send her each day a bird to apprise
her of his condition: if the owl came, she would know him lost. Arrived
at the home of Anuanaïtu, he was met by his wife and mother-in-law,
in tears, with the warning: "Away! quickly! Kaikoutji is furious at
the news he has received!" Nevertheless Maconaura went on, and at the
threshold of the lodge was met by Kaikoutji, who felling him with a
blow, thrust an arrow between his eyes. Meantime Maconaura's mother had
been hearing daily the mournful _bouta! bouta!_ of the otolin; but one
day this was succeeded by the dismal _popopó!_ of the owl, and knowing
that her son was dead, she, led by the bird of ill tidings, found first
the young man's canoe and then his hidden body, with which she returned
sadly to her own people.
The men covered the corpse with a pall of beautiful feathers, placing
about it Maconaura's arms and utensils; the women prepared the _tapana_
for the funeral feast; and all assembled to hear the funeral chant,
the last farewell of mother to son. She recounted the tragic tale of
his love and death, and then, raising the cup of _tapana_ to her lips,
she cried: "Who has extinguished the light of my son? Who has sent him
into the valley of shades? Woe! woe to him!... Alas! you see in me, O
friends and brothers, only a poor, weak old woman. I can do nothing.
Who of you will avenge me?" Forthwith two men sprang forward, seized
the cup, and emptied it; beside the corpse they intoned the Kenaima
song, dancing the dance of vengeance; and into one of them the soul of
a boa constrictor entered, into the other that of a jaguar.
The great feast of _tapana_ was being held at the village of Kaikoutji,
where hundreds of natives were gathered, men, women, and children.
They drank and vomited; drank and vomited again; till finally all were
drunken. Then two men came, one in the hide of a jaguar, the other in
the mottled scales of a boa constrictor; and in an instant Kaikoutji
and all about him were struck down, some crushed by the jaguar's
blows, others strangled in snaky folds. Nevertheless fear had rescued
some from their drunkenness; and they seized their bows, threatening
the assailants with hundreds of arrows, whereupon the two Kenaima
ceased their attack, while one of them cried: "Hold, friends! we are
in your hands, but let us first speak!" Then he recounted the tale of
Maconaura, and when he had ceased, an old peaiman advanced, saying:
"Young men, you have spoken well. We receive you as friends."
The feast was renewed more heartily than ever, but though Anuanaïtu,
in her grief, had remained away, she now advanced, searching among the
corpses. She examined them, one by one, with dry eyes; but at last she
paused beside a body, her eyes filled with tears, and seating herself,
long, long she chanted plaintively the praises of the dead. Suddenly
she leaped up, with hair bristling and with face of fire, in vibrant
voice in-toning the terrible Kenaima; and as she danced, the soul of a
rattlesnake entered into her.
Meantime, in the other village, the people were celebrating the
_tapana_, delirious with joy for the vengeance taken, while the mother
of Maconaura, overcome by drink, lay in her hammock, dreaming of her
son. Anuanaïtu entered, possessed, but she drew back moved when she
heard her name pronounced by the dreaming woman: "Anuanaïtu, my child,
you are good, as was also your mother! But why come you hither? My son,
whom you have lost, is no more.... O son Maconaura, rejoice! Thou
art happy, now, for thou art avenged in the blood of thy murderers!
Ah, yes, thou art well avenged!" During this Anuanaïtu felt in her
soul a dread conflict, the call of love struggling with the call of
duty; but at the words, "avenged in blood," she restrained herself no
longer, and throwing herself upon the old woman, she drew her tongue
from her mouth, striking it with venomous poison; and leaning over her
agonized victim, she spoke: "The cayman which your son killed beside
the basket-net was my brother. Like my father, he had a cayman's head.
I would pardon that. My father avenged his son's death in inflicting on
yours the same doom that he had dealt--an arrow between the eyes. Your
kindred have slain my father and all mine. I would have pardoned that,
too, had they but spared my mother. Maconaura is the cause that what is
most dear to me in the world is perished; and robbing him in my turn, I
immolate what he held most precious!"
Uttering a terrible cry, she fled into the forest; and at the sound
a change unprecedented occurred throughout all nature. The winds
responded with a tempest which struck down the trees and uprooted the
very oaks; thick clouds veiled the face of Adaheli, while sinister
lightnings and the roar of thunders filled the tenebrous world; a
deluge of rain mingled with the floods of rivers. The animals, until
then peaceable, fell upon and devoured one another: the serpent struck
with his venom, the cayman made his terrible jaws to crash, the jaguar
tore the flesh of the harmless agouti. Anuanaïtu, followed by the
savage hosts of the forest, pursued her insensate course until she
arrived at the summit of an enormous rock, whence gushed a cascade; and
there, on the brink of the precipice, she stretched forth her arms,
leaned forward, and plunged into the depths. The waters received her
and closed over her: nought was to be seen but a terrifying whirlpool.
If today some stranger pass beside a certain cascade, the Carib native
will warn him not to speak its name. That would be his infallible
death, for at the bottom of these waters Maconaura and Anuanaïtu dwell
together in the marvellous palace of her who is the Soul of the Waters.
It is not merely the artistic symmetry of this tale--which may be due
as much to the clever rendering by Father van Coll as to the genius
of the savage raconteur--that justifies giving it at length. It is a
wonderfully instructive picture of savage life, emotions, and customs;
and a full commentary upon it would lead to an exposition of most that
we know of the customs and thought of the Orinoco aborigines--such
practices, for example, as im Thurn describes: the putting of red
pepper in one's eyes to propitiate the spirits of rapids one is about
to shoot; the method of Kenaima murder by pricking the tongue with
poison; the perpetual vendetta which to the savage seems to hold not
only between tribe and tribe of men, but also between tribe and tribe
of animals; the _tapana_ feasts in which men become inspired; or again,
such mythic and religious conceptions as the cult of the jaguar and
cayman, extending far throughout South and Central America; the still
more universal notion of a community of First People, part man, part
animal; the ominous birds and animal helpers; the central story of the
visit of the hero-youth to the ogreish father-in-law, and of the trials
to which he is subjected. In these and in other respects the story is
of interest; but its chief attraction is surely in the fact that here
we have an American _Job_ or _Oedipus_, presenting, as _Job_ presents,
the problem of evil; and, like Greek tragedy, portraying the harsh
conflict between the inexorable justice of the law of retribution and
the loves and mercies which combat it, in the savage heart perhaps not
less than in the civilized.
IV. CREATION AND CATACLYSM
Both creation and cataclysm appear in the story of Maconaura and
Anuanaïtu, but this legend is only one among several tales of the
kind gathered from various groups of Orinoco natives, the fullest
collection, "'old peoples' stories,' as the rising race somewhat
contemptuously call them," being given by Brett. The creation
myths are of the two familiar American types: true creations out
of the void, and migrations of First Beings into a new land; while
transformation-incidents, and especially the doughty deeds of the
Transformer-Hero, a true demiurge, are characteristic of traditions of
each type.
The Ackawoi make their Makonaima the creator, and Sigu, his son, the
hero, in a tale which, says Brett,[165] they repeat "while striving to
maintain a very grave aspect, as befitting the general nature of the
subject." "In the beginning of this world the birds and beasts were
created by Makonaima,--the great spirit whom no man hath seen. They,
at that time, were all endowed with the gift of speech. Sigu, the
son of Makonaima, was placed to rule over them. All lived in harmony
together and submitted to his gentle dominion." Here we have the usual
sequence: the generation of the world, followed by the Golden Age,
with its vocal animals and universal peace; while as a surprise to his
subject creatures, Makonaima caused a wonderful tree, bearing all good
fruits, to spring from the earth--the tree which was the origin of all
cultivated plants. The acouri first discovered this tree, selfishly
trying to keep the secret to himself; and the woodpecker, set by Sigu
to trace the acouri, proved a poor spy, since his tapping warned it
of his presence; but when the rat solved the mystery, Sigu determined
to fell the tree and plant its fruits broadcast. Only the lazy monkey
refused to assist, and even mischievously hindered the others, so that
Sigu, provoked, put him at the task of the Danaïdes--to fetch water in
a basket-sieve. The stump of the tree proved to be filled with water,
stocked with every kind of fish and from its riches Sigu proposed to
supply all streams; but the waters began of themselves to flow so
copiously that he was compelled hastily to cover the top with a basket
which the mischievous monkey discovered; and raising it, the deluge
poured forth. To save the animals, Sigu sealed in a cave those which
could not climb; the others he took with him into a high cocorite
tree, where they remained through a long and uncomfortable night, Sigu
dropping cocorite seeds from time to time to judge by the splash if the
waters were receding, until finally the sound was no longer heard, and
with the return of day the animals descended to repeople the earth. But
they were no longer the same. The arauta still howls his discomfort
from the trees; the trumpeter-bird, too greedily descending into the
food-rich mud, had his legs, till then respectable, so devoured by
ants that they have ever since been bonily thin; the bush-fowl snapped
up the spark of fire which Sigu laboriously kindled, and got his red
wattle for his greed; while the alligator had his tongue pulled out for
lying (it is a common belief that the cayman is tongueless). Thus the
world became what it is.
A second part of the tale tells how Sigu was persecuted by two wicked
brothers who beat him to death, burned him to ashes, and buried him.
Nevertheless, each time he rose again to life and finally ascended a
high hill which grew upward as he mounted until he disappeared in the
sky.
Probably the most far-known mythic hero of this region is Amalivaca,
a Carib demiurge, concerning whom Humboldt reports various beliefs
of the Tamanac (a Cariban tribe). According to Humboldt,[166] "the
name _Amalivaca_ is spread over a region of more than five thousand
square leagues; he is found designated as 'the father of mankind,'or
'our great-grandfather' as far as the Caribbee nations"; and he
likens him to the Aztec Quetzalcoatl. It is in connexion with the
petroglyphs of their territory (similar rock-carvings are found far
into the Antilles, the "painted cave" in which the Earth Goddess was
worshipped in Haiti being, no doubt, an example) that the Tamanac give
motive to their tale. Amalivaca, father of the Tamanac, arrived in a
canoe in the time of the deluge, and he engraved images, still to be
seen, of the sun and the moon and the animals high upon the rocks of
Encaramada. From this deluge one man and one woman were saved on a
mountain called Tamancu--the Tamanac Ararat--and "casting behind them,
over their heads, the fruits of the mauritia palm-tree, they saw the
seeds contained in those fruits produce men and women, who repeopled
the earth." After many deeds, in which Amalivaca regulated the world in
true heroic fashion, he departed to the shores beyond the seas, whence
he came and where he is supposed still to dwell.
Another myth, of the Cariban stock,[167] tells how Makonaima, having
created heaven and earth, sat on a silk-cotton-tree by a river, and
cutting off pieces of its bark, cast them about, those which touched
the water becoming fish, and others flying in the air as birds, while
from those that fell on land arose animals and men. Boddam-Whetham
gives a later addition, accounting for the races of men: "The Great
Spirit Makanaima made a large mould, and out of this fresh, clean
clay the white man stepped. After it got a little dirty the Indian
was formed, and the Spirit being called away on business for a long
period the mould became black and unclean, and out of it walked the
negro." As in case of other demiurges, there are many stories of the
transformations wrought by Makonaima.
It is from the Warau that Brett obtains a story of a descent from
the sky-world--a tale which has many replications in other parts of
America, and of which there are other Orinoco variants. Long ago, when
the Warau lived in the happy hunting-grounds above the sky, Okonorote,
a young hunter, shot an arrow which missed its mark and was lost;
searching for it, he found a hole through which it had fallen; and
looking down, he beheld the earth beneath, with game-filled forests
and savannahs. By means of a cotton rope he visited the lands below,
and upon his return his reports were such as to induce the whole Warau
tribe to follow him thither; but one unlucky dame, too stout to squeeze
through, was stuck in the hole, and the Warau were thus prevented
from ever returning to the sky-world. Since the lower world was
exceedingly arid, the great Spirit created a small lake of delicious
water, but forbade the people to bathe in it--this to test their
obedience. A certain family, consisting of four brothers--Kororoma,
Kororomana, Kororomatu, and Kororomatítu--and two sisters--Korobona
and Korobonáko--dwelt beside this mere; the men obeyed the injunction
as to bathing, but the two sisters entered the water, and one of them
swimming to the centre of the lake, touched a pole which was planted
there. The spirit of the pool, who had been bound by the pole, was
immediately released; and seizing the maiden, he bore her to his
sub-aquatic den, whence she returned home pregnant; but the child,
when born, was normal and was allowed to live. Again she visited the
water demon and once more brought forth a child, but this one was only
partly human, the lower portion of the body being that of a serpent.
The brothers slew the monster with arrows; but after Korobona had
nursed it to life in the concealment of the forest, the brothers,
having discovered the secret, again killed the serpent-being, this
time cutting it in pieces. Korobona carefully collected and buried all
the fragments of her offspring's body, covering them with leaves and
vegetable mould; and she guarded the grave assiduously until finally
from it arose a terrible warrior, brilliant red in colour, armed for
battle, this warrior being the first Carib, who forthwith drove from
their ancient hunting-grounds the whole Warau tribe.
This myth contains a number of interesting features. It is obviously
invented in part to explain why the Warau (who are execrated by whites
and natives alike for their dirtiness) do not bathe; and it no doubt
reflects their actual yielding before the invading Carib tribes. The
Kororomana of the story can scarcely be other in origin that the
Kururumany whom Schomburgk states to be the Arawak creator; while the
whole group of four brothers are plausibly continental forms of the
Haitian Caracarols, the shell-people who brought about the flood. The
incident of the corpulent or pregnant woman (im Thurn gives the latter
version) stopping the egress of the primitive people from their first
home appears in Kiowa, Mandan, and Pueblo tales in North America; while
the pole rising from the lake has analogues in the Californian and
North-West Coast regions. Im Thurn states that the Carib have a variant
of this same story, in which they assign as the reason for the descent
of their forefathers from Paradise their desire to cleanse the dirty
and disordered world below--an amusing complement to the Warau notion!
The Warau have also their national hero, Aboré, who has something of
the character of a true culture hero. Wowta, the evil Frog-Woman, made
Aboré her slave while he was yet a boy, and when he grew up, she wished
to marry him; but he cleverly trapped her by luring her into a hollow
tree filled with honey, of which she was desperately fond, and there
wedging her fast. He then made a canoe and paddled to sea to appear no
more, though the Warau believe that he reached the land of the white
men and taught them the arts of life; Wowta escaped from the tree only
by taking the form of a frog, and her dismal croaking is still heard in
the woods.
From the tribes of this region come various other myths, belonging,
apparently, to the cosmogonic and demiurgic cycles. The Arawak tell of
two destructions of the earth, once by flame and once by fire, each
because men disobeyed the will of the Dweller-on-High, Aiomun Kondi;
and they also have a Noachian hero, Marérewána, who saved himself and
his family during the deluge by tying his canoe with a rope of great
length to a large tree. Another Arawak tale begins with the incident
which opens the story of Maconaura. The Sun built a dam to retain the
fish in a certain place; but since, during his absence, it was broken,
so that the fish escaped, he set the Woodpecker to watch, and, summoned
by the bird's loud tapping, arrived in time to slay the alligator that
was destroying his preserves, the reptile's scales being marks made by
the club wielded by the Sun. Another tale, of which there are both
Arawak and Carib versions, tells how a young man married a vulture and
lived in the sky-land, revisiting his own people by means of a rope
which the spiders spun for him; but as the vultures would thereafter
have nothing to do with him, with the aid of other birds he made war
upon them and burned their settlement. In this combat the various
birds, by injury or guile, received the marks which they yet bear; the
owl found a package which he greedily kept to himself; opening it, the
darkness came out, and has been his ever since. In the Surinam version,
given by van Coll,[168] the hero of the tale is a peaiman, Maconaholo,
and the story contains some of the incidents of the Maconaura tale.
Two other traditions given by the same author are of special interest
from the comparative point of view. One is the legend of an anchorite
who had a wonderfully faithful dog. Wandering in the forest, the hermit
discovered a finely cultivated field, with cassava and other food
plants, and thinking, "Who has prepared all this for me?" he concealed
himself in order to discover who might be his benefactor, when behold!
his faithful dog appeared, transformed herself into a human being, laid
aside her dog's skin, busied herself with the toil of cultivation,
and, the task accomplished, again resumed her canine form. The native,
carefully preparing, concealed himself anew, and when the dog came once
more, he slyly stole the skin, carried it away in a _courou-courou_ (a
woman's harvesting basket), and burned it, after which the cultivator,
compelled to retain woman's form, became his faithful wife and the
mother of a large family. It would appear that, from an aboriginal
point of view, both dog and woman are complimented by this tale.
The second tale of special interest is a Surinam equivalent of the
story of Cain and Abel. Of three brothers, Halwanli, the eldest, was
lord of all things inanimate and irrational; Ourwanama, the second, was
a tiller of fields, a brewer of liquors, and the husband of two wives;
Hiwanama, the youngest, was a huntsman. One day Hiwanama, chancing upon
the territory of Ourwanama, met one of his brother's wives, who first
intoxicated him and then seduced him, while in revenge for this injury
Ourwanama banished his brother, lying to his mother when she demanded
the lost son. Afterward Ourwanama's wives were transformed, the one
into a bird, the other into a fish; he himself, seized by the sea,
was dragged to its depth; and the desolate mother bemoaned her lost
children till finally Halwanli, going in search of Hiwanama, whom he
found among the serpents and other reptiles of the lower world, brought
him back to become the greatest of peaimen.
V. NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE
A missionary whom Humboldt quotes declares that a native said to
him:[169] "Your God keeps himself shut up in a house, as if he were old
and infirm; ours is in the forest, in the fields, and on the mountains
of Sipapu, whence the rains come"; and Humboldt remarks in comment that
the Indians conceive with difficulty the idea of a temple or an image:
"on the banks of the Orinoco there exists no idol, as among all the
nations who have remained faithful to the first worship of nature."
There is an echo of the eighteenth century philosophy of an idyllic
primitive age in this statement, but there is truth in it, too; for
throughout the forest regions of tropical America idols are of rare
occurrence, while shrines, if such they may be called, are confined
to places of natural marvel, the wandering tribes being true nature
worshippers, with eyes ever open for tokens of mysterious power.
Fetishes or talismans are, however, common; and in this very connexion
Humboldt mentions the _botuto_, or sacred trumpet, as an object of
veneration to which fruits and intoxicating liquors were offered;
sometimes the Great Spirit himself makes the _botuto_ to resound, and,
as in so many other parts of the world, women are put to death if
they but see this sacrosanct instrument or the ceremonies of its cult
(and here we are in the very presence of Mumbo Jumbo!). Certainly
the use of the fetish-trumpet was widespread in South America and
northward. Garcilasso tells of the use of dog-headed battle-trumpets
by the wild tribes of Andean regions; while Boddam-Whetham affords us
another indication of the trumpet's significance:[170] "Horn-blowing
was a very useful accomplishment of our guide, as it kept us straight
and frightened away the various evil spirits, from a water-mama to a
wood-demon."
This latter author gives a vivid picture of the Orinoco Indian in the
life of nature: "Above all other localities, an Indian is fond of an
open, sandy beach whereon to pass the night.... There in the open,
away from the dark, shadowy forest, he feels secure from the stealthy
approach of the dreaded 'kanaima';... the magic rattle of the 'peaiman'
... has less terror for him when unaccompanied by the rustling of the
waving branches; and there even the wild hooting of the 'didi' (the
'didi' is supposed to be a wild man of the woods, possessed of immense
strength and covered with hair) is bereft of that intensity with which
it pierces the gloomy depths of the surrounding woodland. It is strange
that the superstitious fear of these Indians, who are bred and born
in the forest and hills, should be chiefly based on natural forms and
sounds. Certain rocks they will never point at with a finger, although
your attention may be drawn to them by an inclination of the head. Some
rocks they will not even look at, and others again they beat with green
boughs. Common bird-cries become spirit-voices. Any place of difficult
access, or little known, is invariably tenanted by huge snakes or
horrible four-footed animals. Otters are transformed into mermaids, and
water-tigers inhabit the deep pools and caves of their rivers."
This is the familiar picture of the animist, surrounded by
monster-haunted marches, for which, in the works of many writers, the
Guiana aborigines have afforded the repeated model. No description of
the beliefs of these natives would be complete without mention of the
superstitions and adorations associated with Mt. Roraima, by which all
travellers seem to be impressed. Schomburgk[171] says that the native
loves Roraima as the Swiss loves his Alps: "All their festal songs
have Roraima for object.... Each morning and each evening came old and
young ... to greet us with _bakong baimong_ ('good day') or _saponteng_
('good night') ... adding each time the words, _matti Roraima-tau,
Roraima-tau_ ('there, see our Roraima!'), with the word _tau_ very
slowly and solemnly drawled"; and one of their songs, which might be a
fragment out of the Greek, runs:
"Roraima of the red rocks, wrapped in clouds, ever-fertile source of
streams!"
On Roraima, says im Thurn, the natives declare there are huge white
jaguars, white eagles, and other such creatures; and to this class
he would add the "didis," half man, half monkey, who may very likely
be a mere personification of the howling monkeys which, as Humboldt
states, the aborigines so heartily detest. Boddam-Whetham, who ascended
the mountain, tells of many superstitions, as of a magic circle which
surrounds it, and of a demon-guarded sanctuary on the summit: "About
half way up we met an unpleasant-looking Indian who informed us that
he was a great 'peaiman,' and the spirit which he possessed ordered
us not to go to Roraima. The mountain, he said, was guarded by an
enormous 'camoodi,' which could entwine a hundred people in its folds.
He himself had once approached its den and seen demons running about as
numerous as quails.... Our Indians were rejoiced to see us back again,
as they had not expected that the mountain-demons would allow us to
return."
Like great mountains, the orbs of heaven excite the native's adoration,
though it is by no means necessary, on that account, to follow certain
theorists and to solarize or astralize all his myths. Fray Ruiz Blanco
states that "the supreme gods of the Indians are the sun and the
moon, at eclipses of which they make great demonstrations, sounding
warlike instruments and laying hold of weapons as a sign that they
seek to defend them; they water their maize in order to placate them
and in loud voice tell them that they will amend their ways, labour,
and not be idle; and grasping their tools, they set themselves to toil
at the hour of eclipse." Of similar reference is an observation of
Humboldt's: "Some Indians who were acquainted with Spanish, assured
us that _zis_ signified not only the sun, but also the Deity. This
appeared to me the more extraordinary since among all other American
nations we find distinct words for God and the sun. The Carib does not
confound _Tamoussicabo_, 'the Ancient of Heaven,' with _veyou_, 'the
sun.'" In a similar connexion he remarks that in American idioms the
moon is often called "the sun of night," or "the sun of sleep"; but
that "our missionary asserted that _jama_, in Maco, indicated at the
same time both the Supreme Being and the great orbs of night and day;
while many other American tongues, for instance Tamanac and Caribbee,
have distinct words to designate God, the Moon, and the Sun." It is, of
course, quite possible that such terms as _zis_ and _jama_ belong to
the class of Manito, Wakan, Huaca, and the like.
Humboldt records names for the Southern Cross and the Belt of Orion,
and Brett mentions a constellation called Camudi from its fancied
resemblance to the snake, though he does not identify it. The Carib, he
says, call the Milky Way by two names, one of which signifies "the path
of the tapir," while the other means "the path of the bearers of white
clay"--a clay from which they make vessels: "The nebulous spots are
supposed to be the track of spirits whose feet are smeared with that
material"--a conceit which surely points to the well-nigh universal
American idea of the Milky Way as the path of souls. The Carib also
have names for Venus and Jupiter; and the Macusi, im Thurn says, regard
the dew as the spittle of stars.
In a picturesque passage Humboldt describes the beliefs connected
with the Grotto of Caripe, the source of the river of the same name.
The cave is inhabited by nocturnal birds, guacharos (_Steatornis
caripensis_); and the natives are convinced that the souls of their
ancestors sojourn in its deep recesses. "Man," they say, "should avoid
places which are enlightened neither by the sun nor by the moon"; and
they maintain that poisoners and magicians conjure evil spirits before
the entrance; while "to join the guacharos" is a phrase equivalent
to being gathered to one's fathers in the tomb. Fray Ruiz records an
analogous tenet: "They believe in the immortality of the soul and
that departing from the body, it goes to another place--some souls
to their own lands (_heredades_), but the most to a lake that they
call _Machira_, where great serpents swallow them and carry them to
a land of pleasure in which they entertain themselves with dancing
and feasting." That ghosts of strong men return is an article of
common credence: the soul of Lope de Aguirre, as reported not only
by Humboldt, but by writers of our own day,[172] still haunts the
savannahs in the form of a tongue of flame; and it may be supposed
that the similar idea which Boddam-Whetham records among the negroes
of Martinique with respect to the soul of Père Labat may be of
American Indian origin. One striking statement, which Brett quotes
from a Mr. M'Clintock, deserves repetition, as being perhaps as clear
a statement as we have of that ambiguity of life and death, body and
soul, from which the savage mind rarely works itself free: "He says
that the Kapohn or Acawoio races (those who have embraced Christianity
excepted) like to bury their dead in a standing posture, assigning
this reason,--'Although my brother be in appearance dead, he (_i.
e._ his soul) is still alive.' Therefore, to maintain by an outward
sign this belief in immortality some of them bury their dead _erect_,
which they say represents life, whereas lying down represents death.
Others bury their dead in a _sitting_ posture, assigning the same
reason." It is unlikely that the Orinoco Indians have in mind such
clear-cut symbolism of their custom as this passage suggests; but it
is altogether probable that the true reason for disposing the bodies of
the dead in life-like postures is man's fundamental difficulty wholly
to dissociate life from the stark and unresponsive body; and doubtless
it is this very attitude of mind which leads them also to what Fray
Ruiz calls the error of ascribing souls to even irrational beings--the
same underlying theory which makes of primitive men animists, and of
philosophers idealists.