A Possible "Amerindian" Ancestor?

While researching Taino revivalism and read various sources on "Indian" survival and cultural legacies in the Caribbean after the conquest and demographic collapse, we came across a distant forebear who may have "indio" ancestry. It's impossible to say without confirmation from parochial books of San German and Añasco to recover his lineage, but other data suggest he was, in part, of "Indian" origin (as well as possibly African and/or European ancestry). Born ca. 1750 in Añasco to Martin Galarza and Ana Rivera, Antonio Galarza-Rivera ended up moving around to Toa Alta and, later on, San Lorenzo. According to historian and genealogist Luis Burset-Flores, he appeared in the list of soldiers in the militia list of San Lorenzo in 1811, a few times in the 1820s and possibly died in ca. 1840. Galarza-Rivera was indicated as "pardo" in the documents cited by Burset-Flores, and while residing in Toa Alta, served as a godfather to 2 pardos. 

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Antonio Galarza-Rivera married twice. We are descendants of children of Galarza and his first wife, Lucia Alvarez. In fact, due to consanguinity and cousin marriages, we are descendants of Antonio Galarza-Rivera through two of our great-great-grandparents. One of them, had grandparents who were both descendants of Antonio Galarza-Rivera. Consanguinity was real, and connected us to Antonio Galarza Rivera through multiple lines. Our great-great-grandmother's grandfather and grandmother were grandchildren of Antonio Galarza-Rivera. Our great-great-grandfather's father was also, it seems, a grandchild of Antonio Galarza-Rivera. 

Antonio Galarza appears in this militia list for San Lorenzo uploaded to FamilySearch.

Where circumstantial evidence starts to suggest possible "Indian" ancestry through Antonio Galarza-Rivera is the racial classification of some of his descendants. For instance, a brother of our great-great-grandfather was listed as "mestizo" on his death certificate. Another grandchild of Galarza-Rivera was classified as "mestiza" on her death certificate. While racial labels for the thoroughly mixed-race Puerto Rican population are ambiguous, fluctuating, and often vary for people in the same family (people from the same family can be white, pardo, mulato, mestizo, raza de color), it is interesting to think of the possible "Indian" (and African) ancestry that all these people could have inherited through Antonio Galarza-Rivera (not to mention the various other "pardo" forebears these people have, going back to 17th century San Juan and its environs). 

A grandchild of Antonio Galarza-Rivera through his second wife, but her parents are listed as raza mestiza.

So, upon considering the "pardo" classification for Antonio Galarza-Rivera, as well as the "mestizo" categorization lumped upon some of his descendants, one begins to think Abbad y Lasierra was not off the mark when suggesting the high concentration of indigenous ancestry in the hills of Añasco and San German. Indeed, according to Abbad y Lasierra, the region was the last refuge for the indigenous population of the island. As he tells it, indigenous populations who fled to nearby islands in the 1500s to escape the repressive rule of Spain, later petitioned to return and were resettled in the areas of San German (especially today's Indiera) and Añasco. Brau, on the other hand, seems to think these "indios" were descendants of the "Indians" emancipated by Charles V, then settled in Cibuco. Somehow, the settlement or pueblo of Cibuco was abandoned and the "Indians" presumably moved into the hills of San German, establishing the nucleus of the future Indiera. There is some confusion about Cibuco and the origin of its "Indians." Juan Lopez de Velasco seems to think Cibuco was a pueblo founded for formerly enslaved "Indians" from other lands and not the indigenes of Puerto Rico. Despite this ambiguity, according to Abbad, it was not until much later these people (whether they were solely descendants of Tainos or descendants of Caribs and other Native peoples of the Americas brought to toil as slaves in the colony is not entirely clear) began to intermarry with people of African and European descent, in the 18th century.

Abbad on the origins of Añasco's "indios"

So, while is it hard to imagine the "indios" in the hills never intermarried with people of African and European origin before the 1700s, Abbad y Lasierra had the luxury of consulting the Church records and seeing for himself how so many of the "zambos" and "mulatos" and "mestizos" and even "whites" in Añasco by the late 18th century had "indio" ancestry. Clearly, there were "blancos de la tierra" in Puerto Rico, those who were socially accepted as "white" but who had "indio" and African ancestry. Furthermore, if Abbad y Lasierra is accurate, what happened in Añasco occurred throughout the island as whites married 'indios" and then blacks, mulatos, etc. This process must have begun early in the 16th century, when Europeans and Africans on the island experienced severe gender ratio imbalances and must have reproduced with indigenous and "Indian" women. 

Abbad y Lasierra in his Viaje a la América, describing the once high 'indio' population in the mountains of Añasco that has intermarried with blacks and whites.

Thus, when one takes into consideration the descriptions of Añasco by Abbad y Lasierra, and the continued existence of "indios" around San German in the late 1700s, one can surmise Antonio Galarza Rivera likely had "indio" forebears who were intermarrying with blacks and/or whites by the time Añasco was founded in 1700s. Perhaps Galarza Rivera was a "zambo" of some sort, and Abbad y Lasierra would have not counted him as "indio" due to racial mixture with other castas. Of course, without access to parish records of Añasco and San German, one cannot confirm this theory. But it seems probable given the other evidence and the testimony of Abbad y Lasierra. And if true, it does point to more recent "Indian" ancestry among contemporary Puerto Ricans and the process in which "indios" became pardos through interracial marriage and outmigration.

Bainet and Jacmel in the Early 1700s

1703 Census translated and transcribed by De Ville.

We here at the blog are very interested in the history of Bainet. Thus, we could not resist preserving a copy of De Ville's translation of a 1703 census for the Jacmel quarter, which included Bainet. Taken just five years after the Compagnie de Saint-Domingue established Jacmel in 1698, it shows how underpopulated that region of Saint Domingue was in the early 1700s. The only plantations appear to have been indigo, and the entire black population was around 107 individuals (3 were free). Unexpectedly, there was a large gender imbalance among the white population, with about 12 adult women and 30 adult males and 9 garcons carrying arms. 

The black population also had more adult males than females, but the difference wasn't as stark. Moreover, the underpopulated Jacmel quarter only had indigo plantations or farms, with only 7 of the listed households owning an indigoterie. Presumably the rest, the vast majority, grew subsistence crops or provided services to the Compagnie de Saint Domingue or the owners of the indigo plantations. Perhaps some of the less fortunate whites were formerly indentured laborers, brought by the Compagnie or an earlier entity, and were only beginning to establish themselves as habitants by 1703. 

Baptism of Jean Baptiste Cange in 1719

Bainet's presence in the list can be found in numerous names listed here, whose largely mixed-race descendants formed an important part of the area in the rest of the 18th century. For example, Sougrain, Robin, Cangé and possibly Moreau, Bonnefoy, and Lemaire were surnames used by various free people of color families in and around Bainet, Jacmel, and Grand-Goave for the rest of the century. Presumably, they are the descendants of the white colons already in the area in 1703, and the enslaved or free people of color who married or bore children by them and their descendants. Historians have often pointed out the prevalence of interracial marriages in Bainet during the early decades of the 1700s, particularly that of white men lacking property and propertied women of color. 

Baptism of Jeanne Butet in 1709, the woman we suspect was a sister of Marguerite Butet

For instance, one of the surnames we have been researching, Cangé, was associated with a very large number of people in the area who were descendants of a Jean Celin Cangé who married a free "mulatto" named Marguerite Butet (probably the daughter of Rene or Louis Marin Buttet). While we are still unsure of who the two adult Cangé listed in this 1703 census was, we believe the Cangé name was brought to the area by two brothers or cousins. The first baptismal record for a Cangé born in the area, Jean Baptiste Cangé, indicates his parents were Jean Cangé and Marguerite Courville. 

1728 baptism in Jacmel parish of Marie Jeanne, child of Jean Cange and Marguerite. Jeanne Butet was the godmother.

It seems possible that the Jean Cangé who married Marguerite and began having several children (Jean Baptiste, Louis Celin, Pierre, Marguerite, Marie Jeanne) was probably one of the children listed in the Cangé household in 1703. Perhaps his wife's surname was mistakenly written as Courville in 1719, but she seems to have used Butet in most records identifying her (unless Jean Celin remarried another Marguerite in the 1720s). She was also connected to a Jeanne Butet, fille naturelle of Rene Butet and a free black woman, who moved to Jacmel and married a Boursicot. Some of their descendants would marry, too, further solidifying the family and property ties between some of the Cangé and Boursicot in the Jacmel and Bainet parishes. 

Baptism of a child whose godmother was Marguerite Butet, still alive in 1776

Regardless of the ultimate origins of the Cangé name in Saint Domingue, the marriage of Marguerite Butet and Jean Cangé was advantageous for both. Marguerite, through her father and uncle, had ties to early planters and administrators in the colony. Marriage to Marguerite could have helped the Cangé politically and economically, eventually paving the way for them to establish a coffee plantation in Grand-Goave. Clearly, in 1703, the Cangé household did not own an indigo plantation and they only owned 2 female slaves and 3 horses. Strategic marriage with a woman of color whose family were landowners and serving in the administration of the colony must have been a step up for Jean Cangé and increased the status of his mixed-race progeny. His free people of color children and grandchildren usually married other free people of color, and established themselves as coffee planters and left behind many descendants. We believe that it is likely most people with the Cangé surname and roots in Bainet, Jacmel, and Grand-Goave are descendants of these people in some fashion, as well as the enslaved majority of the population in the colonial era. Unfortunately, it is far more difficult to trace our enslaved forebears, but that will obviously occupy much of our future research into Bainet's history during the 18th century. 

The Housing Lark

 Sam Selvon's brief novel The Housing Lark combines his typical comic sensibilities with a serious storyline about the struggle of West Indian migrants to find adequate housing in the racist London of the 1960s. Thematically, the story seems to combine the cynicism and disappointment of the later Moses novels with the humorous and episodic structure of Selvon's Trinidad novels or his famous work, The Lonely Londoners. Written in dialect and comprised of a ballad-like structure which heavily uses Trinidadian vernacular, calypso, and West Indian culture, history, and migrant experience, the novel's happy ending and promise of solidarity among West Indians in London hints at the rise of a "West Indian" identity among Caribbean migrants in the UK. Through their common experience of racialization, discrimination, and cultural differences with the English, one sees a powerful forging of a shared identity through "excursions," rum, Trinidadian and West Indian cuisine, chasing after "birds," and the central role of women in actually seeing to it that the "housing lark" succeeds. 

It's a novel for dreamers and reflects the sexist culture of the West Indian male characters like Battersby and Syl, but it's undeniably entertaining, witty, and hopeful. Who could resist laughing after reading the tale of Nobby and his English landlord giving him puppies he does not want? Or the ambiguous Syl, an Indian Trinidadian, who tries to pass as an East Indian to secure housing from a discriminatory landlord? After all, through the dream of Harry Banjo and the pragmatism of Jean, Matilda and Teena, they will find a house of their own. Thus, they will achieve a degree of security, space, and belonging in the "Mother Country" which rejects them. Sure, one can find elements of the pessimism of Selvon's later sequels to The Lonely Londoners, but there is a lot of optimism in this entertaining and immersive tale of 1960s Caribbean London. One wonders what transpired between the mid-1960s and the 1970s to cause Selvon's shift in tone and eventual relocation to Canada...