Grito de Lares

Olga Jiménez de Wagenheim's Puerto Rico's Revolt For Independence: El Grito De Lares may not be the best introduction to the frustrated assertion of Puerto Rican sovereignty, but it's definitely worthwhile. This study seeks to elucidate the factors that led up to the Grito de Lares and its defeat, beyond the nationalist interpretations or those of the Spanish colonial government explanations. Using a variety of archival sources and testimony from the defeated rebels, the social, economic, and political origins of the rebellion are clearly presented in a persuasive manner. While we are not sure if the reasoning of the author for why Puerto Rico's independence movement developed later than that of mainland Spanish America is valid, framing Puerto Rico as experiencing the type of colonization the mainland had experienced centuries before might be correct. 

We are just a little unsure about how the Puerto Rican case really differed from that of the Dominican Republic and, to a certain extent, Cuba. Like the DR, Puerto Rico was a marginal Spanish colony, but having the exceptional case of the Haitian Revolution and the change in sovereignty from French, Spanish and Haitian rule definitely made it different from Puerto Rico. But the Dominican nationalists had to fight another war of independence from Spain after Pedro Santana reinvited Spanish rule. Why did the War of Restoration succeed while Puerto Rico's independence movement failed to secure widespread support from hacendados, slaves, and jornaleros (besides those of Lares and nearby western regions)? Was it really due to the strong foreign provenance of many slaveholding landowners whose wealth and connections would have been necessary for the Creoles to successfully attain independence? Or the ambiguous promises of the revolutionaries to slaves and jornaleros who joined their cause?

Captives of Conquest

For all interested in learning about the origins of enslaved indigenous peoples in the Spanish circum-Caribbean, Woodruff Stone's Captives of Conquest: Slavery in the Early Modern Spanish Caribbean is an enlightening read. Captives of Conquest demonstrates how central Indian labor and the commodification of their very lives was to the process of Spanish colonial expansion from 1492-1550. It also highlights how the Caribbean laid the foundations for Spanish America through the role of slave raiding, slave auxiliaries, and slave trading for Spanish exploration and travel to new parts of the Americas. The often weak authority of the Spanish Crown and the evolving discourse on Indian rights, labor regimes, and "race" can be seen in the pivotal half-century or so in which hundreds of thousands of Indians were, voluntarily or involuntarily, participants in the creation of European colonialism in the western hemisphere. 

Our interest in reading this work was mainly with regard to the degree or extent foreign Indian slaves intermarried and interacted with local indigenous populations of the Caribbean and the increasingly important African population of the Greater Antilles. Citing various colonial records on the trade in Indians from Tierra Firme, Mexico, Brazil, Central America, Florida, and beyond, Woodruff Stone presents clear evidence for a vast scale of slave trading that brought more Indians to Hispaniola, Puerto Rico, Cuba, and Jamaica. Thus, despite the dwindling local indigenous population in Hispaniola or Puerto Rico, the slave trade of Indians from throughout the circum-Caribbean introduced thousands more. Their labor was essential for Spanish sugar plantations, gold mining, and domestic service, especially since African slaves were more expensive. Despite their numerical significance, high mortality rates and the lack of sufficient records (after all, many Indians were victims of illegal Spanish slave raids, including against allies of the Spanish in Venezuela), they continued to be important ever after 1542. Indeed, this proves that some of the colonial reports of Hispaniola or Puerto Rico lacking Indian populations after 1550 were partly inspired by officials eager to hide their continued enslavement of indigenous peoples. 

Drawing on pre-contact Caribbean mobility, trade, and cultural networks, Captives of Conquest establishes that the indigenes of the region had long-established connections. However, it appears that the rapid influx of thousands of foreign Indians from places as disparate as Florida and Mexico or the Yucatan and the interior of Venezuela may have further weakened Taino caciques. If local caciques, whose authority was already eroded by the repartimiento of 1514 on Hispaniola and rapid population declines and dislocations caused by the Spanish, were also losing authority because of the introduction of thousands of foreign Indians, then we are inclined to think locals had to reconceive local political and social traditions. Even if foreign Indians were slaves and locals part of an encomienda system, in practice the distinction between a free and an enslaved Indian might not have meant much. Thus, we are inclined to think foreign Indians who survived may have joined local Indian communities and helped create new identities. Evidence of this can be seen in Yucatecan and Taino marriages in colonial Cuba. According to Captives of Conquest, some of these populations also intermarried with Africans, thereby adding more cultural diversity. 

Our guess is that Puerto Rico experienced something similar as local Indians intermarried or formed new communities with those from the Lesser Antilles, the Bahamas, Yucatan, and Tierra Firme. Perhaps this may explain why the cacique of Mona, for instance, was a native of Tierra Firme living in San German during the 1590s. If non-local Indians could rise to positions of authority, and the Taino were always mobile and engaged in long-distance trade, perhaps foreign Indians were more assimilable than we can detect from the Spanish accounts. Thus, perhaps the enslaved Indians enumerated in the de Lando census of 1530, who already outnumbered "free" Indians in Puerto Rico, may have included people who adopted local Indian practices or joined their communities. Or later did so, possibly contributing to the maintenance of Indian communities and practices that were later adopted by all the free peasantry of the island.

Surviving Spanish Conquest

Anderson-Córdova's Surviving Spanish Conquest: Indian Fight, Flight, and Cultural Transformation in Hispaniola and Puerto Rico is a must-read for everyone interested in the cultural transformations that occurred in the first two Spanish colonial conquests of the Americas. For obvious reasons, this also has relevant implications for the topic of indigenous legacies in the Spanish Caribbean and the so-called neo-Taino movement. Although some of the conclusions remain tentative due to a number of factors, such as the lack of sufficient archaeological research (such as contact-era sites in Puerto Rico) and the loss of repartimiento documents for early Puerto Rico, this careful study of acculturation (or its absence) attests to the survival of indigenous culture for several decades. The encomienda Indians of Hispaniola, for instance, were able to preserve and maintain traditions and practices well into the 16th century, even as population decline and the erosion of the authority of the caciques continued. 

Applying the theory of compartmentalization to this process in which Indians of Hispaniola and Puerto Rico paid lip-service to Spanish impositions or Christianity but retained cohoba, areytos, ballgames, ritual feasts, and other practice allows us to see how and why elements of indigenous culture were able to survive and influence the Creole peasantry that succeeded the collapse of the gold mining economy and encomienda system. The author's ability to use colonial-sources from Spanish perspectives to uncover this is also exemplary, although many of these sources leave unanswered questions about, for instance, the degree of acculturation for enslaved Indians or the types of interactions local Indians had with slaves of diverse origins. We also lack sufficient documentation for Puerto Rico's indigenous population, which could have been as low as 30,00-60,000 when the Spanish arrived. Yet, if it is indeed true that many of the island's Indians fled to other parts of the Antilles to escape Spanish rule, we can probably assume that a decent portion of the Indian captives seized by Spanish raids in the Lesser Antilles included indigenous populations who could have come from Puerto Rico. Either way, there are written sources referencing the movement of indigenous populations from smaller islands who returned to Puerto Rico or were settled there, as seems to have been the case with the Indians of Mona. 

Unlike Cuba, however, we lack the same degree of detailed ethnographic, historical, and archaeological research that indicates indigenous survival for Hispaniola and Puerto Rico. Nonetheless, the evidence does suggest that local Indians and foreign enslaved indigenous populations from other parts of the Americas remained important for the colonial economy long after 1514 (repartimiento in Hispaniola) and the de Lando census in 1530. Comparative studies of Jamaica and Cuba, plus additional archaeological and ethnographic work in Puerto Rico will likely find similar examples of indigenous survival and cultural longevity. After all, Puerto Rico is known for having noticeable levels of Indigenous Caribbean ancestry through genetic studies and historical references from Abbad y Lasierra and colonial-documents speak of an Indian population in the hills outside San German. It would be amazing for archaeologists to work in the area of San German and the Indiera for post-contact village sites showing us a Puerto Rican example like that of El Chorro el Maita in Cuba. That, with extensive oral histories could reveal ways in which Puerto Rico was similar to Cuba for indigenous survival and cultural legacies long after 1550. 

Les deux Indiens

Ramón Emeterio Betances's Les deux indiens is probably one of the most fascinating examples of Indianist literature of the 19th century Caribbean. Written in French and as a response to Alejandro Tapia y Rivera's La palma del cacique, the ardent nationalist Betances subverts the genre. Instead of telling a tale of romance between an indigenous woman and a Spanish male, Betances has Otuké fall in love with Carmen, a beautiful Andalusian. However, due to the brutal and racist Spanish conquest, their romance is doomed. However, unlike, say, Iracema or other examples of Indianist Latin American literature, Carmen bears Otuké's son. This mestizo child, raised by Toba, the warrior brother of Otuké, must be an allegory for the formation of the Puerto Rican people and their opposition to colonial rule. The novel is followed by a short poem that also hints at the fraternal bonds created by the  African and the Indian under Spanish colonialism, another radical instance of anti-colonial sentiment expressed by Betances. 

Perhaps because he was writing in French and had, already by the 1850s, combined anti-slavery, anti-racism and liberal nationalism as the path forward, Betances was able to create the most progressive Indianist literature in the Spanish Caribbean. The indigenous legacy was alive and well, represented in the novella's conclusion by Indians in the forest resisting the Spanish. Toba, son of murdered cacique Ayma of Guanahibo, carries on the fight with Carmen and Otuké's son. Their population may have suffered severe declines and the loss of the cemi and bones of Ayma clearly required a shift in Indian social organization, but Toba and the indigenous resistance must have symbolized an ongoing effort by the Puerto Rican people to liberate the island. Sure, Betances engaged in the typical Romantic-era praise of the island's flora and fauna. Indigenous customs of worship like the cemi appear in the text. But the Indian legacy is a living one, and surely one that a young Betances could have seen in the Puerto Rican population of his day. Undoubtedly, as someone allegedly of mixed-race origins and cognizant of the way historians and travelers had noted the indigenous ancestry of the Puerto Rican population, he would see continuity in the struggle of the indigenous resistance to the conquest and 19th century struggles for independence.

The poem accompanying the novella makes this radical message even more explicit, incorporating the plight of the African into the narrative. This move also brings Betances closer to Haitian writers such as Emile Nau. One wonders if Betances had read Nau or at least heard of his history of the indigenous population of Hispaniola. If so, and in light of Betances's own pro-Haitian views, perhaps his depiction of the indigenous resistance to Spanish enslavement was partly motivated by Nau's history of Hispaniola. There, like in Puerto Rico, the European colonial conquest and subjugation of Indians and Africans was eventually avenged by the birth of Haiti as an independent state. Puerto Rico, suffering under the yoke of colonialism, must follow a similar path which Betances highlights through Toba and Otuké. Unfortunately, Betances's progressive Indianist literature was not followed or developed by subsequent writers.

An Account of the Antiquities of the Indians

While revisiting Griswold's translation of An Account of the Antiquities of the Indians, we were shocked to see mention of a prophecy of clothed foreigners who would overcome the locals, kill, and cause the indigenes to die of hunger. According to Ramón Pané, the indigenous population (presumably from the Cibao region of Hispaniola, where much of Pané's information was gathered?) came to believe the prophecy was a warning of Columbus. Amazingly, within a few decades of their encounter with the Admiral, their population did experience catastrophic suffering and decline. 

That eerily accurate prediction aside, Pané's brief account of the indigenous population's beliefs and practices is astonishing in other ways. Arrom, drawing on Las Casas, Oviedo, and ethnographic and linguistic data from related indigenous populations like the Arawak, shows how complex Taino mythology and religion actually was. For instance, a myth might allude to something like the origin of the sea or the creation of animals. Others, however, reflect their knowledge of astronomy and weather patterns, such that Anacacuya may have represented a mythic representation of the Pole Star. Their myths also have parallels with Arawak, Carib, and other indigenous societies of South America, suggestive of deep antiquity and possible etymologies of names for mythic places. Some of this remains speculative, naturally, but helps the reader understand some of the metaphors, symbols, and social practices misunderstood by Pané.

If, despite their limitations, sources such as An Account of the Antiquities of the Indians remain indispensable for reconstructing the history of the indigenous Caribbean, one must know how to "read" through the colonial and Christian biases. Arrom's careful footnotes do an excellent job in this regard, thereby showing how one can use colonial sources to reconstruct the history of the Taino of Hispaniola (and the Greater Antilles). One can also begin to see more clearly the numerous ways in which elements of the indigenous cultures survived the conquest and went on to play a major role in the development of the colonial-era peasantries in the Spanish Caribbean. They may have lost the behiques, zemis, caciques, and most of the religion, but inherited several other aspects of the indigenous legacy. 

Mona and San German

While reading Caldera Ortiz's Historia de San Germán: Nuevos Hallazgos para su estudio genealógico, 1512-1712 we found out that the cacique of Mona was living in San German during the 1590s. Diego Ramirez wasn't even born on Mona or Puerto Rico but came from the mainland or South America. Was this around the time when Indians of Mona began settling in the hills of San German? And from there, to Indiera and Añasco? What was going on in the 1590s that, by then, pushed the cacique of Mona to inhabit San German?

America

 

"Pedro Navaja" got us hooked on this number from West Side Story. Although never fans of this musical or musical theater in general, this is a clever (and problematic) song on Puerto Rican migration in the US. The gendered difference in perceptions of their experience in New York is interesting in itself.

Spiks

For some strange reason, we never finished Pedro Juan Soto's Spiks during a past obsession with Puerto Rico and the Diaspora a few years ago. This time around, we devoured the slim collection of short stories and vignettes of Puerto Rican life in New York City. As the title suggests, these stories focus on ghetto life and the crushing poverty, dilapidated housing, and lack of opportunities for Puerto Rican migrants established in Harlem. Stories deal with themes of becoming an adult, frustrated romance, migration, the breakup of families, lack of work, English classrooms in school and failed dreams. Of all these tales, the most effective story is probably "Scribbles." The brief work perfectly encapsulates what happens when ambition and marital love are brutally confronted by the realities of life in New York. The father of the family will never become an artist and his one attempt to express his feelings for his wife through his talent are abruptly terminated by Graciela. Sadly the canvas of his planned artwork becomes a "wide and clear gravestone of his dreams." This is an apt description of the New York experience for more than a few of those earlier generations of migrants from Puerto Rico

Grand-Goave

One must check every nearby or even distant communes when engaging in genealogical research. As an example, we would like to highlight a Bainet man of the 19th century, Cange Alexandre. Born in the 1820s to Cadet Alexandre and Marie Therese Cange, he passed away in 1906. He appears in the Bainet civil registry in the 1860s in the birth records of two of his sons.

According to his death certificate, Cange Alexandre's father was Cadet Alexandre and his mother was named Therese. We were suprised to find to a Grand-Goave record from 1834, in which Cadet Alexandre's wife, Marie Therese Cange, appeared as a godmother to a newborn child of Petionne Geromme Bareaux and Jean Jacque Philippe. Since the borders of the communes of Haiti have changed over time and people in the valley of Bainet and Jacmel sometimes registered their births, marriages or deaths in Grand-Goave, one must be sure to check other parishes, communes, and towns. 

Of course, it is possible that Cadet Alexandre and Marie Therese Cange had nothing to do with the Cange and Alexandre family in the valley of Bainet that we are obsessively pursuing. However, we know their son, Cange Alexandre, lived in the valley of Bainet. His very name points to both his father and his Cange mother, who were both likely born in the early 1800s or late 1700s. Is it possible that Cadet Alexandre was related somehow to our Cherilise Alexandre?

What Everyone Needs to Know About Puerto Rico

Although we are mainly interested in the history of Puerto Rico before US colonialism, Jorge Duany's Puerto Rico: What Everyone Needs to Know is a good overview of 5 centuries of historical development and cultural transformation. The two are, obviously, closely linked and the format of this introductory book is conducive to finding information quickly and easily. Duany also contextualizes it within the context of the current debt crisis of Puerto Rico and what we consider the checkered or perhaps failed legacy of the Commonwealth status. Clearly, Puerto Rico today and for much of its recent history has demonstrated that the "postcolonial colony" is a failed model for Caribbean "development." The persistence of colonial features in the current status of the island and the heavy reliance on federal transfers of funds is perhaps to be expected from the the outset of the PDP's model for cultural nationalism with limited sovereignty. In its defense, all of the Caribbean is defined by dependency and heavily shaped by migration, but Puerto Rico's case is a disturbing example of recurring colonial exploitation. Haiti tried to look to Puerto Rico's model, like several other countries, but without the benefits of US citizenship for its population or massive federal funds. In retrospect, it is somewhat shocking so many looked to Puerto Rico as an exemplary case of development when the entire project came to rely on outmigration to the continental US.

Bainet Rural Homes

Just an example of a rural home in the mornes of Bainet, from Bonnaud's L'Apostolat en Haïti, journal d'un missionnaire.

Felix Darfour's Haitian Progeny

Source

Our understanding had always been that Felix Darfour came to Haiti with an Ardouin from France. He brought with him a French wife and, after his execution in 1822, she presumably returned to Europe. Surprisingly, Felix Darfour had a daughter whose birth was registered in Port-au-Prince the year he was killed. Born in Bizoton, she was a fille naturelle of Darfour with a woman named Juilliete Pierre Louis. We wonder if Marie Louise's mother ever told her about her father from Darfur and his interesting tale connecting Haiti, France, and Darfur. We would love to know more of Darfour's origins, too. Was he Runga or from some other ethnic group near Darfur? Was he Fur?

India, Guadeloupe and Haiti

Although we have written about the tiny Asian Indian presence in Saint Domingue, we always wondered if people of Indian descent came to Haiti from other Caribbean populations in more recent history. Guadeloupe, in at least once case, provided one such example. Named Sinasfamir Mounien, and born in Guadeloupe to parents from India, he married a Haitian woman in Port-au-Prince in 1903. The marriage act alludes to his parents as Indians and the names certainly sound like it, too. What was he doing in Haiti in 1903? Was he able to earn Haitian citizenship as someone of "Indian" origin? Or was it acquired through his marriage to a Haitian woman? Was he searching for economic or professional opportunities denied to him in Guadeloupe but open to enterprising people of color from the French Antilles in Haiti? It would be mildly interesting to uncover what brought this young man from Guadeloupe to Haiti. And where in India did his parents hail from? We know that he stayed in Haiti for at least some time, having a daughter born in Port-au-Prince in 1906. By then, he was named Louis Emilien Mounien and resided in Port-au-Prince with a domicile in Guadeloupe (Pointe-à-Pitre). 

Charles the Bambara

Randomly perusing the indexed digitized records of the Haitian Civil Registration on Family Search has truly revived our interest in the African-born Haitian population of the 19th century. Here we have a Charles, of the "Banbara" nation, or Bambara, registering in 1810 in Port-au-Prince. Estimated his age at 40, he was probably born around 1770 and must have came to Saint Domingue relatively young, perhaps as an adolescent. We wish someone could compile enough sources to write a detailed study of some of these Africans in early Haiti.