Irving Rouse's The Tainos

Although trying to catch up with the current trends in Caribbean precolonial history and archaeology is an ongoing process, Irving Rouse's The Tainos: Rise & Decline of the People who Greeted Columbus is more nuanced and relevant than we thought. As a towering figure in "Taino Studies" and Caribbean archaeology during the 20th century, Rouse's work is inescapable. However, we were under the impression that today's scholars are more skeptical of some of Rouse's framework and assumptions of "primitive" pre-ceramic indigenes in the Greater Antilles. However, after reading Rouse, one finds that he recognized the cultural complexity of the "Taino" peoples in his division of their societies into Eastern, Classic, and Western branches. Moreover, he acknowledged that migration should be not be presumed to be the major factor behind major changes in culture or ceramics in the Antilles. 

While he perhaps exaggerated by referring to the Saladoid expansion in the Antilles as the cause of a "genocide" of archaic, earlier populations in the Antilles, they undoubtedly were among the important ancestors of the people who went on to become known as "Tainos" by today's scholars. Studies of the ancient DNA samples and mythology also suggest a rather pronounced South American Amazonian origin for the population of the Antilles. The two earlier cultures identified by Rouse, the Casimiroid and Ortoiroid, undoubtedly helped shape the development of "Tainoness" in ways that younger generations of archaeologists can hopefully uncover. But the later "Saladoid" expansion through the Antilles does seem to have played a major role among the ancestors of the Tainos. The numerous interaction spheres across bodies of water that connected different parts of the archipelago and the South American mainland are also fascinating topics, pointing to how movement across maritime highways was the avenue for exchange. Caribbean people have always been on the move, between islands and between islands and the continent.

However, Rouse's study is somewhat outdated despite its recognition of the Taino cultural legacy in the Spanish-speaking Caribbean. Despite acknowledgment of the cultural, linguistic, and biological legacy of the Taino in Cuba, Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic, Rouse believed the Taino disappeared by 1540 or so. The full story of the disintegration of Taino communities and their role in shaping the colonial period is worthy of monograph-length study itself. Rouse did not do justice to this in the chapter on the fall of the Taino, and we are sure neo-Tainos would take issue with Rouse's description of it. In addition, a more detailed analysis of the rise of chiefdoms or more complex polities on Hispaniola and Puerto Rico could have been included in the chapters on the origins of the Classic Tainos to assist readers with understanding the origins and dynamics of political organization. If zemis, for instance, date back to the early Cedrosan Saladoid expansion in the Antilles, and evidence for conuco mound agriculture in the Cibao perhaps began in the 1200s or so, is it possible that some indigenous societies had reached the chiefdom stage earlier without conucos for yuca cultivation? What was the role of long-distance trade in this process?

Once in Puerto Rico

Although we had first learned of Pura Belpre several years ago, it is only recently did we develop an interest in her work collecting and disseminating Puerto Rican folklore for children. What is most intriguing about her work is the inclusion of multiple stories from or about the indigenous past of Borinquen. Almost half of Once in Puerto Rico consists of stories about the Taino past of the island or the early Spanish conquest and settlement of the island. Some of the tales must certainly postdate the Spanish arrival. For example, the tale of Guani involves an Indian boy who plays a flute to restore his flock of goats. With the help of Yukiyu, Guani saves his goats from a spell cast by an evil toad. This tale refers to a cemi, magic, and an animal that did not exist on the island of Puerto Rico until the Spanish introduced it to the Caribbean. 

Perhaps this tale does reflect a far earlier legend or tradition that was "updated" during the colonial period with animals of Old World origin? Other tales about the Indian past, such as that of Milomaki and "The Legend of the Royal Palm," appears to be a legend explaining the singing of a tall palm tree when the wind blows through its branches.  This tale, like the "Legend of the Hummingbird" endeavors to explain a natural phenomenon and relies on references to magical or supernatural events transforming people into plants, animals, or things. The tale of Amapola and the colibri, however, has a more tragic romance feel since the the former is not allowed to have a relationship with a Carib male, eventually causing both to transform into a flower and a bird.

Other tales of the Indian past, like that of Iviahoca, unambiguously allude to events associated with the conquistadors of the island and the cacique Mabodamoca. In the case of this last story, the wife of a powerful cacique stands up to Becerrillo and manages to impress Ponce de Leon and Diego de Salazar. Through doing so, she frees herself and her son from the Spanish. The last tale with an Indian character, about Yuisa and Pedro Mexias uses the marriage of a mulatto and a cacica as a symbol for the Puerto Rican people. The two meet, fall in love, and, despite having to relinquish her power as cacica, Yuisa chooses to marry Pedro Mexias. Intriguingly, a council of bohiques is responsible for forcing Yuisa to abdicate her political office. Unfortunately, Carib raids eventually target the village and the two lovers die fighting to defend the island. The tale extolls the two for dying to defend the island and inspiring the governor of the island to attack the Caribs at Vieques. This is lovely and all, but seems to be a justification of the Spanish colony. Perhaps these stories reflect the morally ambivalent feelings of Puerto Rican society about its colonial origins. Moreover, some of these tales were passed on or inherited by others in colonial society who may have changed the tenor to fit their own interests. Nonetheless, it is interesting to note the frequent allusions to caves, cemis, and aspects of belief that mirror those of the Taino cosmovision.

The Tainos of Hispaniola

Roberto Cassá's Los taínos de La Española is one of important studies of the Taino past. Although somewhat dated as it was first published in 1974, Cassá's work is an interesting example of historical materialism applied to the precolonial past of our island. His work highlights the ways in which Taino societies were at a stage of "incipient" artisan class formation and other features of a society whose processes, in the final stage of Taino culture, was disrupted by the Spanish conquest. However, unlike Moscoso, Cassá seems more orthodox in his Marxism. According to the latter, the absence of private landownership prohibits the formation of social classes. Instead, the Tainos developed social "ranks" based on chiefs, or caciques (with nitainos and behiques as part of this group) and laborers. Nonetheless, the evidence cited by Cassá himself from the Spanish chronicles, documentary sources, and archaeological insights suggest the reality was perhaps closer to that described by Moscoso.

In other words, there are frequent contradictions in this seminal study of the Taino past. At times, the author provides numerous examples of social inequality and "incipient" class formation and state centralization yet he's insistent on seeing Taino society as one of simply chiefs and workers or laborers, with the behiques (Shamans) and nitainos as appendages of the chiefs. Yet he points out how the caciques had control over some of the labor of communities and received tribute. They and others also were buried with more prestige goods, used more luxury products and were supporting, to some extent, long-distance exchange and an "incipient artisan class" freed from agricultural labor. This would suggest something closer to Moscoso's model of tribal tributary production in which caciques wielded significant power. 

The development of sophisticated art (and artisans to produce them), long-distance systems of exchange, and control over tribute of various aldeas seems to affirm the idea of a society transitioning to one with more defined social classes and greater inequality. This obviously varied based on the region, as Cassá astutely notes. After all, some caciques were simply in control of a single community or area, while others appeared to, like Xaragua, wield significant authority over an extensive area. However, the sources of authority for paramount chiefs was likely built on various foundations, including kinship, marriage alliances, an exchange of cemis, and gifts. And this was already in a stage of "incipient despotism" that enhanced the authority of the cacique. Behiques, who may not have been a priestly class, may have become one had the Spanish not arrived in the Caribbean.

By being perhaps overly orthodox with his historical materialism, Cassá endeavors too hard to force Taino societies in stages that match the modes of production of classical Marxism. So, since the Taino lacked private ownership, their societies were said to have not reached a more advanced stage. However, this ignores the insightful analyses of other Marxist scholars. In the case of Africa, Bernard Magubane comes to mind. Magubane's analysis of exploitation in precolonial sub-Saharan Africa demonstrates quite clearly how societies without private land tenure could still feature political centralization and outright exploitation. The Taino of Hispaniola, in at least some cases, had caciques with similar political power and ability to exploit the labor of others, even without private land tenure. 

Moreover, at least some Taino societies had achieved a "higher stage" in religious beliefs with abstract deities and with obvious evidence of social inequality. Caciques, for instance, buttressed their authority with religion and also possessed more luxury goods, consumed higher quality alimentation, had more wives, and were often a subject of celebration in areitos. In order to produce exquisite duhos and other works of art and refinement for this ruling class or group, there must have been some increase in the population of skilled artisans and workers. Thus, even if the Taino maintained communal land tenure and continued to supplement their diet with hunting, fishing and gathering, despite their productive system of yuca mounds, they were likely heading towards a society with more social inequality and political centralization. The redistribution of part of the surplus through communal feasts and celebrations like areitos and batey may have also contributed to the prestige and authority of the cacique and assist with attracting or retaining dependents. 

Cassá also raises a number of interesting questions about Taino society in other respects. For instance, what was the total population of the island in 1492? He estimated somewhere between 225,000 to 275,000, which is perhaps too high by today's better estimates. Certainly some parts of the island, especially with montones and irrigation canals, could have supported substantial populations, like Xaragua. But our sources are too ambiguous or provide gross overestimates or underestimates. Without more information, it remains unclear. Moreover, what was the relationship between the sexes really like among our indigenous predecessors? Cassá presents evidence of a patriarchal society with ambilineal or bilineal rules of descent. 

Evidently, the importance of accumulating women as wives among the powerful and the laborious tasks expected of women with casabe preparation and domestic life suggest a more burdensome lot for women. Women were also suggested to be of lower status in some of the myths recorded in the chronicles. Yet what does one make of the possible female cacicas or chiefs then? And did Taino peoples include something akin to a third gender or two-spirit in their societies? Men, dressed as women, were mentioned by Oviedo and Las Casas as "sodomites" who likely adopted female roles. Was there a similar system in place for female-bodied persons to become men? And of the Taino legacy in the Dominican Republic of the colonial and independence eras, what can be found of the Taino legacy besides material culture adopted by Africans and Europeans?

Caciques of Haiti

 Emile Nau’s Histoire des Caciques… is justifiably a classic. As elucidated by Francisco Moscoso, the 19th century classic text, despite rarely sharing its sources, presents a compelling historical narrative on the European conquest of the island of Haiti. It is less of a history of precolonial Taino cacicazgos of the island than a harrowing tale of their subjugation and disintegration under colonial rule. Since Nau was part of a literary and intellectual movement espousing Haitian cultural nationalism, he felt it necessary to include the history of the aboriginal Haitians as part of this project. Interestingly, his brother, Ignace, also wrote several nouvelles which reflect a similar Haitian cultural project, albeit one that is more rooted in the African-derived cultural influences and practices of the Haitian countryside of the 19th century. 

That said, it is interesting to recall Ignace Nau’s tale of the rustic monteros of the east, and the fact that the eastern part of the island was once part of Haiti. Moreover, some of the ancestors of today’s Dominicans were considered to have “Indien” or indigenous ancestry. Perhaps claiming the Amerindian past as Haitians was linked to this larger conception of the island’s shared history? Indeed, Nau’s introduction suggests that it was through the fraternal links of suffering enslavement and colonialism that the African and Indian were joined together. Maybe Nau’s Romantic depiction of the indigenous past, one in which the “simple” Indiens were en route to civilization and, in the case of Xaragua, refined and skilled in poetry, was tied to the literary movement of the 1830s, in which Haitian authors sought to use poems and short stories to valorize the land and its diverse peoples? 

We know Nau also, despite denying any biological continuity between Haitians and the exterminated indigenous population, also sought to identify Amerindian traits in aspects of Haitian popular culture and language. Such an attempt to do so may be part of this movement to define Haitianite broadly, with Amerindian, African, and European elements. The Taino elements, particularly in poetry, song, and language (deduced to be beautiful by the specimens of the Taino tongue resurrected by Nau, which proves that they were a refined people!) could be reimagined as part of the cultural patrimony of all Haitians. Maybe such a move would also be a common ground for Haitians of all backgrounds to unite, through the landscape, history, literary legacy, and eventual vengeance of the Taino through Haitian independence. 

Unfortunately, due to the time period it was composed and some of the ideological currents and limitations of Haitian Romanticism, Nau’s history presents a number of problems. The author’s admiration for Colombus as a thwarted genius representing science, religion and progress partially undermines the sympathy for the indigenes of Haiti. If Columbus and the Spanish conquest represented a giant leap in terms of expanding Christianity and civilization, and the Indiens were, outside of Xaragua, savages like the Caribs, simple, and lacking effective leaders, then there is a sense of inevitability in their extinction. Naturally, Nau opposed the subjugation by force and outright enslavement and exploitation of aboriginal Haitians. But this is sometimes contradicted by the fulsome praise for Colombus and the three ideals of Christianity, Civilization and Progress represented by European expansion. In other words, Nau was not quite ready to completely discard the Eurocentrism of his intellectual era. He could recognize that the Taino were on the path to civilization, however. La Yaguana or Yaguana, the capital of Xaragua, was said to have had over 1000 houses, which would likely mean it was a town or city with thousands of people. Their “tributary” system of government was able to generate enough resources for caciques and a leisurely class to develop, albeit not yet reaching the level of the Indiens of Mexico and Peru. Unfortunately, the tragedy of history was against them as Spanish expansion preempted fuller development of their societies.

Despite some of its ideological flaws and unclear sources (Charlevoix, Herrera, Las Casas, maybe Oviedo and Irving are some of the few we could identify), Nau’s account is full of interesting allusions to caciques and historical junctures that parallel those of the Haitian Revolution. The capture of Caonabo, for instance, brings to mind the trap used against Toussaint Louverture during the Haitian Revolution. Henry, or Enriquillo, whose refusal to submit for several years, must have reminded Nau and his readers of the familiar maroons of Saint-Domingue. Perhaps even a figure like Goman, who led a long-lasting rebellion against the Republic could be seen as a 19th century equivalent? Or, perhaps more obviously, the Bahoruco maroons of the colonial period who used the same territory of Enriquillo to resist the French. Of course, Nau also explicitly compares Ovando to Rochambeau for his brutality. Indeed, Ovando’s unprovoked massacre of Xaragua’s elite and execution of Anacaona is surely matched by Rochambeau’s barbaric violence. These parallels must have been rather explicit to Nau, and would have been obvious to him as his brother also wrote short stories of episodes of the Haitian Revolution. Moreover, the magisterial tomes of Madiou and works by other Haitian historians would have facilitated the identification of similar episodes and themes in the history of Indian resistance and the struggle for Haitian independence. Doing so confirms a teleology in which the conquest and destruction of Indian Haiti is avenged through Haiti’s singular struggle for abolition of slavery and restoration of independence. Haiti, under Dessalines, achieved what was impossible for Enriquillo. 

Mitología y artes prehispánicas de las Antillas

Arrom's Mitología y artes prehispánicas de las Antillas was less useful than we initially thought. Perhaps because we read it after absorbing Stevens-Arroyo (who, like Arrom, saw Deminan as our Taino Prometheus), Lopez-Baralt, Robiou-Lamarche and others, who were all clearly influenced by Arrom's important work, much of his seminal study is familiar territory. Nonetheless, Arrom was unquestionably important for expanding our knowledge of "Taino" culture and religion on the eve of Spanish conquest. His analysis of surviving art, together with linguistic data and the chronicles, helps us make sense of the larger Taino cosmovision and social structure. Unlike more recent scholars, Arrom did not benefit from newer anthropological theories on South American indigenous religions and worldviews. However, his detailed breakdown of Pané convincingly identifies some cemis in Taino art and the aesthetic accomplishments of precolonial Caribbean civilization. This clearly establishes the impressiveness of Taino cultures in the Greater Antilles as one of the worthy areas of pre-Columbian civilizations and part of our legacy in the region.

El mito taino

Mercedes López-Baralt's El mito taíno: raíz y proyecciones en la amazonia continental does an interesting job outlining the various ways in which Taino mythology, as recorded by Ramón Pané, parallels those of the Amazonian region and the northern part of South America. Drawing on ethnographic data and collections of South American Indian myths, López-Baralt convincingly demonstrates how the Taino peoples of the Greater Antilles were deeply immersed in an older, continental civilization based on manioc. Where the Taino differ, however, is in their more developed ceremonialism, the greater social stratification and the role of the shaman as an intermediary between the people and the cemis. 

Despite those differences, perhaps the Taino really were still in that "intermediary" stage of tribal-tributary production, meaning they were in greater proximity to their less politically centralized continental cousins. Perhaps the similarities between the Taino and their mainland Arawak and other "cousins" can unveil some of the ideological, social, and economic features of Taino society? The notion of cyclical time, for example was probably shared by the Taino and South American indigenous populations. This could explain the idea of new generations of humans or rebirths of humanity represented through figures like Guahayona and Deminan. Furthermore, the ubiquity of the female turtle as a symbol of motherhood or the frog as a symbol of fertility in Taino and South American mythology very well could indicate something about the nature of Taino art and the position of women as mothers, objects of raids, and bodies of water. Whether or not some of the myths recorded by Pané could be deduced to explain the rise of patriarchal societies or not seems uncertain at this point. 

However, López-Baralt, like Stevens-Arroyo, is likely correct about some of the larger archetypes and social functions explained or rationalized by Taino myth. These fragments of a larger worldview, fortunately bequeathed to posterity by Pané reveal much about Taino culture of the late 15th century. If only more of the traditions were recorded or described, then we could be in a far better position to understand Taino society. Of course, one must also take into consideration that it was the elite of Taino society who provided information to Pané. What we know of the society thus reflects the ruling ideology and perhaps not the general beliefs of the "commoners" of Taino society. Perhaps the so-called naboria spirituality and religious practice was closer to that of the type encountered in the South American mainland and parts of the Lesser Antilles?