Sayfa Ar'ad and Solomonic Rulers

Tarik Amba is one of the better podcasts on Ethiopian history. Sadly, it has not been updated frequently. For our purposes, we wanted to share an episode on some of the Solomonic rulers in the medieval era. One of them, Sayfa Ar'ad, or Seife Ared, became a character representing Ethiopia (and Black Africa) in a romance of Sayfa b. Dhi Yazan in Mamluk Egypt.

The Savior of Bornu

 

J.R. Milsome's biography of Muhammad al-Amin al-Kanemi, El-Kanemi: the Savior of Bornu, was written for children within the first decade of Nigerian independence. Keeping those two facts in mind, it can excuse this biography somewhat. After all, would Muhammad al-Amin al-Kanemi have cared for Borno to be a part of the Nigerian nation? Does it really make any sense to consider him one of the makers of Nigeria? Only in the sense of promoting Nigerian unity after independence does this biography make even a little sense. As a book for children, Milsome was also able to take certain liberties and not cite any sources. Instead, he can create dialogue to add additional dialogue, details, or characterization to the the life of al-Kanemi. 

Unfortunately, Milsome gets some of the facts wrong and this book is far less useful than that of Brenner for a comprehensive biography of al-Kanemi. For instance, Milsome incorrectly labels al-Kanemi's Fazzani mother as a woman from Tripolitania. He also mentions Egypt as one of the places where al-Kanemi studied for years as a child. This could be true, but more reputable sources mention Tripoli. Furthermore, some of the most interesting episodes in al-Kanemi's political career are excluded. His early marriage to a local chief or ruler's daughter in the town he resided in before being called by the Sayfawas to liberate Gazargamo is omitted from this biography. Neither is al-Kanemi's frustrated ambitions to permanently reconquer Kanem or his "troubled" relations with Yusuf Qaramanli and the Fazzani appear. Nor, for that matter, did the tale of the disastrous Mandara expedition appear in Milsome's biography. 

The errors and omissions in this biography are rather shameful. Young adult readers could benefit from a more critical biography that contextualizes the life of al-Kanemi in a period of political and spiritual transformation in West Africa and the realpolitik of statecraft in the Central Sudan. It could also have, perhaps, through the eventual peace between Sokoto and Borno, been used to promote a model of Northern Nigerian coexistence or harmony. Nonetheless, the creative illustrations are a nice touch, even if the depictions of al-Kanemi do not match those found in Denham, Clapperton and Oudney.

Irving Rouse and 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?

Njimi, Kanem

 

A video on the work of archaeologists such as Carlos Magnavita and others who may have identified the ruins of Njimi, the capital of medieval Kanem (after Manan). We cannot wait for more published results from these excavations. Perhaps it will force us to rethink some of this blog's preconceived notions about Kanem-Borno urbanism before the Borno phase. It can also shed some light on medieval Kanem's relations with regions like Nubia and West Africa.

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.

Anakaona

A catchy song referencing our cacica, Anacaona. As a relatively recent Haitian song, it is an interesting example of Haitian popular culture remembering the indigenous cacica of Xaragua. It is also worth noting the inclusion of rara musical elements. If we were as absurd as Alexis, we could claim rara music was influenced by the Taino...Nonetheless, nice to see historic and picturesque parts of Jacmel in the music video. 

The Tainos of Hispaniola

Roberto Cassá's Los taínos de La Española is one of the 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?

Invoking Louquo

An interesting piece composed by Juan Francisco Garcia, it seems to have inherited from Emile Nau that the first human ("Adam") in Taino religion was Louquo. Either way, it's musically intriguing though lacking any obvious indigenous features or traits. It sounds a little like the "Indianist" music of Justin Elie. 

Awlad Muhammad Dynasty and Borno

Habiba Wada's El-Hesnawi's thesis, Fazzan Under the Rule of the Awlad Muhammad: A Study in Political, Economic and Intellectual History is a must for anyone interested in the history of the Fazzan region of Libya. Although focused on the Awlad Muhammad dynasty which dominated the important area of the Central Sahara from c.1500 to 1813, the El-Hesnawi draws on the earlier history of the Fazzan and its importance in trans-Saharan trade. Indeed, the Fazzan is distinct for being one of the earliest regions important in trans-Saharan trade since Antiquity. And the Awlad Muhammad dynasty itself is a testament to the Fazzan's central role as a crossroads of Egypt, the Maghrib and the Sudan. For any deeper understanding of Kanem-Borno in its Saharan and Sudanic context, one must include the Fazzan in the analysis. Based on oral traditions and some of the surviving documents from the Fazzan, Tripoli, Ottoman, and European archives, a glimpse at the Awlad Muhammad becomes feasible.

Most of the thesis focuses on the Awlad Muhammad dynasty's Fazzani context. It's origins began with Muhammad al-Fasi, a sharif who chose to settle in the Fazzan after returning from Mecca. Said to have come from the Maghrib or western Sahara, El-Hesnawi's thesis emphasizes the importance of the Fazzan as a region of settlement and stop on the pilgrimage route for those coming from the West. Murabitun and those of sharif origin were especially welcome for their piety and Islamic scholarship. Muhammad al-Fasi appears to have used that to build a power-base and eventually establish a ruling dynasty that persisted until the 19th century. In some respects, the rise of the Awlad Muhammad mirrors that of the "Istambulawa" of Air in the 1400s. Like the early sultans of Agades, Muhammad al-Fasi was a mediator between conflicting groups in the Fazzan. 

Through their ability to arbitrate and neutralize opposition (or most of it, save the Khurman), the Awlad Muhamamd established a relatively stable dynasty that united most of the Fazzan. According to El-Hesnawi, patronage of the murabitun and those of sharifian origin helped tremendously with buttressing the new order. In addition, certain Arab and regional chiefs were given tax-free status and incorporated into the regime. Like the Sayfawa of Kanem-Borno, land grants and tax-free exemptions were awarded to several murabitun who then served in the administration. The Awlad Muhammad later relied heavily on slave officials, heavy taxation on the commoners, duties on trade, and the region's geography to thrive economically. Indeed, El-Hesnawi cites evidence of past wealth in what are today ruined villages or destitute areas of the Fazzan. Agriculture, however, once thrived in the oases and the Fazzan even exported some crops to other regions like Tripoli. 

In short, the Awlad Muhammad built a stable regime on the foundations of trade, support for the pilgrimage, taxation (often onerous, but perhaps mainly due to unscrupulous officials), and heavy patronage for Islamic scholars. The administration inherited terms of Kanuri origin, but El-Hesnawi suggests the meaning of the terms in practice often differed. In fact, the author suggests the period of direct Kanem rule of the Fazzan was rather brief. Due to political instability among the Sayfawa and then the wars with the Bulala, it is likely that the Banu Nasir dynasty appointed by Kanem became independent very quickly. This dynasty, which perhaps was the origin of the Kanuri titles used by subsequent Fazzani rulers, was proceeded by the Khurmans and a period of political chaos or conflict. 

As for the Fazzan's relations with Borno and the Sayfawa, El-Hesnawi's thesis argues against some of our assumptions. For instance, due to the constant conflicts between the pashas of Tripoli and the Awlad Muhammad, it is possible that the dynasty was not politically aligned with the Sayfawa. The interest of the Sayfawa dynasts in direct ties with Tripoli support this contention. In fact, when an Awlad Muhammad ruler did indeed flee to Borno due to an invasion from Tripoli, he was executed. Ibn Ghalbun and other sources claim Umar b. Idris did this because the Fazzani sultan had blinded his nephews, but Borno's close ties with the rulers of Tripoli would have also been a factor. Indeed, this helps explain why so many Awlad Muhammad rulers fled to Katsina or Agades in the 1500s and 1600s rather than Borno. The Sayfawa, eager to maintain close ties with Tripoli as the northern terminus of trans-Saharan trade (and the origin of European and Mediterranean goods), might have been more often than not on the side of the pashas in Fazzan-Tripoli conflicts. 

Moreover, the Awlad Muhammad rulers, being so close to Kawar, might have preferred Katsina and Agades as sources of refuge and political support due to fears of a Sayfawa expansion. For instance, other scholars suggest part of the reason Idris b. Ali (Idris Alooma) sent an envoy to the Ottoman capital was due to their own territorial interests in the Fazzan. El-Hesnawi, on the other hand, said the mission was partly motivated by the Ottoman official briefly in charge of the Fazzan invading as far as Kawar or Lake Chad. In our opinion, the Awlad Muhammad probably were eager to maintain some distance from Gazargamo to preserve their own autonomy. However, the necessities of trade and the short route between Tripoli and Lake Chad through the Fazzan meant trade, contact, and migration were probably constant. The Awlad Muhammad, as El-Hesnawi indicates, were additionally friendly to all pilgrims passing through their domain. The numerous Sayfawa mais who performed the hajj often passed through the Fazzan, which would have created close ties already strongly based on trade, Islam, and cultural exchanges.

Last but certainly not least, El-Hesnawi cites one tradition suggesting a large-scale movement of people from Kanem into the Fazzan during the 1200s.  This could be true, as the Diwan indicates that mai Arku established colonies of slaves in Kawar during the 11th century. It is not inconceivable that the Sayfawa rulers in the 1200s were not pursuing similar colonization policies. Indeed, this might explain part of the strong Kanuri and Sudanic influence in the Fazzan noted in European sources. After all, the Awlad Muhammad princes and rulers were sometimes noted to be brown and "black" and Kanuri and Hausa were widely spoken in Murzuq and other parts of the area. This cannot be solely due to the large-scale slave trade that persisted for several centuries. The importance of "black" qadis, settlers, traders, pilgrims, and princes passing through or living in the Fazzan must have contributed to the "Sudanic" character noted by European or Ottoman travelers. After all, even the capital of Murzuq used Kanuri words to designate parts of the city and the people sang songs in the "Sudanic" style rather than that of the Maghrib. The Fazzan of the Awlad Muhammad was, like that of previous Fazzan polities, profoundly shaped by the Central Sudan and a testament to the Sahara as a bridge rather than barrier. If only we could trace this earlier in the period of the Garamantes and uncover more sources on Fazzan's links with Lake Chad.

(Not Just) Knee Deep

 

Something about the music around 7:00. Who doesn't love to hear P-Funk rocking out? Something about the music, indeed.

Fiesta de Negritos

Old cumbia music was quite spectacular. The jazzy touches were always a plus, making Lucho a Colombian Benny Goodman in a sense.

Afrodisia

A classic from one of Kenny Dorham's Latin excursions. Horace Silver is a nice plus, too, ensuring a funky fusion of jazz and Afro-Cuban rhythms. 

Nau and the Tainos

Emile Nau’s Histoire des Caciques d'Haiti 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. 

Lecuona Cuban Boys & Anacaona

Surprisingly beautiful tribute to Anacaona from the Lecuona Cuban Boys. We will have to find out if there are more songs commemorating caciques from the 1930s. 

Mythology and Taino Art

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. Their skills in working with conch, stone, bone and wood reveal expert artisanry and the development of an elaborate society and worldview. Even after the disastrous encounter with Europe, several aspects of their accomplishments survive in modern Caribbean toponyms, spirituality, mythology, agriculture, and material culture.

Perico lo Tiene

Irresistible. We only wish there was soloing for the instrumentalists. 

Singing in Taino

Although we are not huge fans of Juan Luis Guerra, our ongoing Taino obsession required us to share this song with lyrics in the Taino language. 

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? 

Irka Mateo's Anacaona

Peter Gabriel meets Anacaona, or at least that's the vibe we're getting from Irka Mateo's tribute to our cacica. There's nothing particularly "Taino" about the music itself (except some of the lyrics), but it's certainly catchy in its own way. 

Afro-Indian Areito

Part of our ongoing obsession with the "Taino" inheritance with numerous references to the obvious African legacy. In other words, the making of our people.

Gato Live

An amazing performance from Gato Barbieri in his prime. His best period was the 1960s and early 1970s, and one can see why as he was collaborating with artists like Lonnie Liston Smith. The brother was incredibly versatile, that's for sure.