Shamans, Jaguars and the Taino

Reichel-Dolmatoff's The Shaman and the Jaguar: A Study of Narcotic Drugs Among the Indians of Colombia is one of those detailed studies of a South American tropical lowland population with potential relevance for the Taino. Although the Tukano live in the Colombian Amazon region and are rather far removed from the Antilles, they share a reliance on manioc, consumption of hallucinogens, ritual purging and fasting and shamanistic practices with the Taino peoples. Indeed, when Reichel-Dolmatoff begins the book with a historical overview, it becomes rather clear that the Taino peoples shared some of these deeply-held and cherished beliefs like the Tukano. Indeed, the prominence of the shaman in healing and the art inspired by hallucinations from using drugs suggests a very deeply rooted use of plants for hallucinations and entry into the other realms. Where the Desana and other related groups differ, however, is the lack of powerful chiefs. Based on Reichel-Dolmatoff's work, one can say that most Tukano in the Vaupes River region lived in malocas with headmen, but the headmen were not nearly as powerful as, say, the caciques were reputed to be. Instead, the indigenous peoples of this region of Colombia resided in exogamous groups who followed similar prohibitions on incest. Their neighbors, including an Arawakan group and the use of Lengua Geral (Tupi), connected them to other ethnic groups who, in the distant past, may have frequently went to war.

In spite of the significant differences between the Tukano and the Taino, one can still find utility in this book for understanding elements of Taino art and culture. The role of phosphenes in the visions seen by the Tukano after yaje and other rituals, for instance, has a direct impact on the decoration motifs and styles used in ceramics, gourd rattles, and house paintings. In addition, some of the vivid images, shapes and colors seen by the Tukano are always interpreted via cultural norms and mythological beliefs. The Taino case was likely similar in which certain recurring motifs and geometric patterns likely reflect the use of cohoba and long-term impact from its use. It is also possible that the Taino Sun lore and astronomical lore likely reflected a possibly similar belief in the role of the Sun, Moon, Stars, and the origins of humanity, culture heroes (like Deminian) and the creation myths. While there may only be a few superficial parallels between the two cultures, the Taino mythology, or the fragments of it available from Pane, indicate similar incest taboos and beliefs in bush spirits and possible anthropomorphic animals. However, without the amazing jaguar and other large feline predators, the island population of the indigenous Caribbean may have mythologically substituted the jaguar with a type of dog and other animals. This may explain some of the elaborate duhos with human and animal features. Moreover, the Taino may have also restricted at least some of the cohoba rituals to males, although we lack enough evidence to understand gender dynamics of Taino shamanism and the ingestion of hallucinogens.

Overall, Reichel-Dolmatoff's work reveals an important role played by yaje and other substances in Tukano ritual, society, and myth. The historical overview of Colombia's indigenous peoples indicates shared or similar practices, such as the Kogi and Muisca. The paye or shamans of the Tukano are, of course, products of specific historical, cultural, and geographic conditions. That said, their practice, background, and intellect suggest possible ways to interpret the Taino behiques of the pre-Columbian Antilles. A study of shamans, hallucinogens and jaguar transformation among coastal lowland populations in northern South America would be even better for our purposes. That said, without an animal comparable to the jaguar, one wonders how Taino beliefs in transformation and possibly perspectivism may have operated. Were there similar beliefs about the role of transforming into a type of dog that allowed one to violate social norms on sex and violence? And is Reichel-Dolmatoff too obsessed with applying a Freudian analysis emphasizing sex in every aspect of Tukano myth and ritual?

Ancient Nubia

P.L. Shinnie's Ancient Nubia manages the nearly impossible task of covering thousands of years of Nubian history from prehistoric times until the fall of the Christian kingdoms. Obviously, to cover so much time in a short volume requires omissions. Nonetheless, Shinnie's readable account is a nice summary of what was known at the time about the general history of Nubia. And while he occasionally expressed a strange, perhaps outdated perspective on "race" and the A-Group and C-Group peoples as "non-negro" or not black, Shinnie's survey stresses continuity as a major factor in Nubia's cultural history. Thus, the A-Group, C-Group, Kerma/Kush, Napatan, and Meroitic phases in the region's history present several areas of continuity. The "Egyptianized" elites of the period of New Kingdom rule and the Napatan-Meroitic phase are perhaps an expected result of centuries of Egyptian domination. However, even they inherited much from Kush and applied Egyptian models to local conditions and needs. That said, the Meroitic phase, perhaps the one in which rule urbanism, the arts, and trade were at their zenith, could have received a longer chapter. After all, if Meroe represented the zenith of the Napata-Meroe rulers, why not dedicate more space to theories of its development, ideology, and relations with the neighboring areas of Africa and the ancient world? And speaking of Meroe, why so little to say about Alwa, despite that region of Nubia likely benefitting from rain-fed cultivation as well as pastoralism and river-based agriculture? Certainly Alwa may have presented a medieval example comparable to Meroe's greatness.

Borno Feudalism

While perusing Ronald Cohen's "The Dynamics of Feudalism in Bornu" we felt compelled to record some of our thoughts. Cohen, building on his ethnographic work among the Kanuri, endeavors to apply the feudal framework to the political system of Borno. Since the "fief" was allocated from the Sayfawa mai (or Kanembu Shehus) to nobles with the right to tax said land, but the central authority never lost the ability to revoke such allotments, Cohen sees Borno as diverging from feudalism as developed in medieval Europe. Moreover, Cohen sees in the Borno case another major difference due to the inconsistency of primogentire for royal succession. Unlike Europe, where primogeniture became the rule, several rulers of Kanem-Borno were succeeded by non-filial relatives. The large size of the Magumi royal clan and the growth of various lineage segments throughout the course of its long history created conditions in which there were always a number of potential contenders for the throne.

Adding into the mix of this often volatile political equation is the role of a major council that invested new kings. Cohen did not delve deeper into this, but a council who confirmed the new king plus competing lineages for the royal throne created conditions in which Borno's political system was often unstable, particularly after famines, unsuccessful wars, or other moments of crisis. In order to combat this instability in royal succession, Borno rulers began to increasingly rely on slave officials and outsiders of the Sayfawa lineages in order to ensure loyalty. In order to maintain the loyalty of subordinates, the rulers of Borno ensured they possessed the means to revoke fiefs given to them and maintained their subordinate position. Furthermore, the ubiquitous role of the patron-client relations and relative absence of currency led to a general social pattern in which subordinates provided labor, fealty and services to a superior in exchange for protection, occupation, economic advancement, political office, and security. Overall, the "unique" Borno feudal state was centralized in some ways but appears to have been inherently unstable in the long-run, yet Cohen may have missed aspects of stability and centralizing tendencies apparent in apparently "weak" rulers of the Sayfawa dynasty. 

A Short History of Benin

Jacob Egharevba's A Short History of Benin is one of those classic texts on a well-known West African historical state. Egharevba's short account is mainly based on oral sources. Due to his family background and access to the royal court and keepers of the historical tradition, Egharevba's short history manages to cover over 700 years of history in 100 pages (fourth edition). While some may take issue with his attempt to read Oranmiyan as a historical king of Benin or perhaps even the historicity of the Ogiso kings who preceded the descendants of Oranmiyan, Egharevba's account supplies a number of important details on Benin from the 15th century until 1897. In fact, a number of details, anecdotes, and episodes of political conflict during the reigns of various obas points to the ongoing struggle between the obas and the Uzama, Iyase, and other sources of authority. 

Indeed, at different moments, Benin supposedly tried a republican form of government. Unpopular, greedy obas were also sometimes overthrown or challenged by its subjects. This long-running dynamic between royal authority and the kingmakers and chiefs could sometimes be won in the favor of the obas. However, even some of the most notable obas, like Ewuare, allegedly caused great misfortune during his mourning of the death of his two sons. Princes sometimes fought for the throne, showing another of instability in the political system (in spite of an oba enacting primogeniture as the rule of succession). Furthermore, the longer reigns of some obas also created problems if they were succeeded by old sons. These heirs to the throne may have been less effective at resisting the council of kingmakers and other chiefs. Perhaps the situation was analogous to the period of older alafins in Oyo appointed by the Oyo Mesi, an issue mentioned by Robin Law's analysis of that Yoruba kingdom.

Benin was also fascinating for its relations with Europe. Although Ryder should probably be read for a full account of that, Egharevba's account suggests local Christianity persisted in some form until the late 17th century. Indeed, he claims one oba and a number of princes were actually literate in Portuguese. Other obas took an interest in European technology, like telescopes. The full story of Benin's relations with the West are interesting, but it would have been interesting if Egharevba had been able to find more information about the local use of Portuguese for literacy and the manner in which the Ohensa administered the local Catholic churches. Additionally, though it would have been difficult when first published, it would have enriched the study if analysis of the famous Benin bronzes was attempted. According to Egharevba, the art of brass casting entered Benin from Ife and the pieces were part of the local method of recording history. A careful analysis of those artistic masterpieces, European textual sources, and Benin oral traditions, including those outside the royal court, would have led to a richer history of one of the major kingdoms of precolonial Nigeria. 

From al-Lamtuni to al-Suyuti

Reading John Hunwick's "Notes on a late fifteenth-century document concerning 'al-Takrur'"in African Perspectives is essential for early Air history and local Islamic reformism. Although some scholars disagree with locating al-Lamtuni's home in Air or Takedda, Hunwick presents a convincing case for a Air origin. The nature of al-Lamtuni's questions posed to the Egyptian scholar, al-Suyuti, allude to a region whose population included a mixture of Tuareg, Hausa and likely Fulbe elements. The Tuareg practice of matrilineal inheritance, female spirit possession (and the Hausa bori cult), an elaborate royal court culture reminiscent of Agadez and Hausa states, and the belief in "idols," employment of praise singers and dancers, and prostration before the ruler sound like Agadez (or, alternatively, another state in the Central Sudan and even parts of the Western Sudan). According to al-Lamtuni, women and men did not conduct themselves appropriately and local residents also frequently raided each other and plundered. This sounds like the Tuareg of Air, although other Saharan Berber populations could be intended. However, in light of all the evidence and the likelihood that al-Suyuti wrote his response to al-Lamtuni at the same time as his epistles to the rulers of Agadez and Katsina, Hunwick is probably correct to assume al-Lamtuni was describing the society of late 15th century Air. 

As Hunwick states, the Islam of the masses was likely weak and retained several local customs, superstitions, and practices. The belief in sorcery, ill-omened days or birds, possession of women by jinn, and passion for charms or talismans do suggest either the Air region or, perhaps, the area of the Niger Bend. However, what is even more interesting about the short exchange between two intellectuals is what it suggests about the nature of the state in the Central Sudan. Although the sultans of Agadez were initially chosen as arbiters of the Tuareg clans in the region, their courts and their attempts to consolidate authority and control taxation resemble those of Sudanic states. Indeed, according to al-Lamtuni, the rulers of his land divided land into smaller units, perhaps "fiefs," whose appointees collected taxes on behalf of the ruler. These local officials, sometimes chiefs or elders or others, proceeded to overtax those lands and exploit the population. Some even chose to allow "pagans" to inhabit their lands, engaged in commerce with them, or associated with them rather than Muslims. This is perhaps a reference to the lightly-Islamized or non-Islamic rural Hausa and Fulbe in the region as well as very lax Tuareg. Hunwick even sees an early reference to the pivotal salt trade from Bilma to Air and Hausaland in al-Lamtuni's questions. If so, the trade in salt between Bilma and Kawar to Hausaland via Air must have been a major source of revenue and exchange for the rulers of Agadez. Borno, at the time still the dominant power in Kawar, must have also especially interested in secure trade routes and influence in Air or its surroundings. 

Despite its limitations, al-Lamtuni's questions are a testament to the early Agadez state's attempts to establish a system of taxation and administration that derived revenue from taxes in kind. Moreover, the state established a system of market dues on horses, camels, goats, cows, slaves, firewood, clothes, as well as entry and exist at the city gates. While Hunwick believed the rulers of this region could have also been a reference to the Agadez, Takedda and a third local ruler, we find it more likely for it to represent a single burgeoning royal court at Agadez. It established a system of taxation and land tenure that, despite the limitations of its authority over the Tuareg, was able to lay the foundations for a state that persisted into the 19th century. As a royal court with Hausa and Central Sudanic foundations, one can glimpse the attempts at statecraft of a Central Sudanic type seen in Kanem-Borno or among the Hausa states. The process in this case, however, never quite succeeded to attain the degree of centralization of the prominent Hausa states or Borno. Perhaps due to the lack of a sufficient agricultural base and internecine conflicts among the Tuareg clans of Air, Agadez could not centralize to the same degree as Borno. Nonetheless, the Islamic reformism of its scholars undoubtedly influenced Uthman dan Fodio and the jihad that transformed the Central Sudan in the 19th century. 

Oyo Empire, c.1600-c.1836

Robin Law's Ọyọ Empire, c.1600-c.1836: a West African imperialism in the era of the Atlantic slave trade was one of those important studies of a major West African polity that we found difficult to read a year ago. We believed it was relying too heavily on fragmentary traditions and hearsay that entered into the contemporary European sources to be sufficiently accurate. However, since it was published in the 1970s and of course relied heavily on local oral traditions in addition to classic studies by Yoruba authors like Johnson, we decided to revisit Law's book. As he himself admitted, his study relied on limited sources and some of its conclusions will hopefully be advanced or rebutted by subsequent scholarship. Nonetheless, as one would expect from a meticulous like Law who has written extensively on the Slave Coast, his study of the Oyo Empire during the same era endeavors to contextualize Oyo's expansion in the era of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. 

Oyo, as major supplier of captives to the ports of the Slave Coast, was, however, a hinterland kingdom based on a cavalry force. This cavalry, supplied from the north, meant Oyo was deeply connected to Nupe, Bariba, and even Hausaland and Borno for horses, equipment, and goods acquired through trans-Saharan trade. Thus, Oyo provides an interesting example of an Atlantic trading state (which for a time commanded tribute from Porto Novo, Badagry, Allada and Dahomey) which also had close ties to the savanna states to the north. Indeed, the mention of "Yoruba" slaves by Timbuktu scholar Ahmad Baba and the trade in horses and slaves between Kano and the Nupe must have brought the Oyo Yoruba into contact with Muslim Sudanic West African traders by the 16th century. After a period of Bariba and Nupe rule, a resurgent Oyo was able, by the 1600s, able to expand and use its own cavalry to assert itself effectively in savanna territories around Oyo (and the southwest). Even some hilly areas or regions with politically fragmented Yoruba fell under Oyo rule, through a combination of Oyo colonists and military force. Gradually, Oyo was able to profit from both the Atlantic trade via the coast as well as the northern trade routes that linked it to the Sudanic regions. 

Instead of providing captives to the north in exchange for horses, like in its earlier period of growth, Oyo was able to trade cowries and European goods for horses from northern suppliers. Indeed, by the late 18th century, with access to the coast through ports like Porto Novo, Oyo was likely a major supplier of Hausa and northern slaves to the Atlantic trade. Oyo's own textile industry and far-ranging traders also continued to prosper, seeming to avoid any negative internal impact of the slave trade (such as insecurity) until its later years of decline. Indeed, Oyo may have benefitted from a more monetized economy stimulated by trade, cowries, textiles, foodstuffs produced for traders (and captives) and redistributed imported European goods or silks, natron and leather goods from the north. Oyo, like Dahomey and Asante, appears to have been able to combine imperial expansion and Atlantic slave trade to become wealthier states. Unfortunately for Oyo, however, political centralization did not reach the level of Benin, Dahomey or Asante. The alafins of Oyo were never able to completely subdue the powerful Oyo Mesi and the Basorun, who controlled the capital's army. Instead, the alafins of Oyo had to rely on palace slaves and officials they appointed to oversee provinces, collect tribute, and command the provincial army to expand the state and increase their own power. 

However, after Basorun Gaha seized power in the middle of the 18th century, Abiodun was only able to restore the alafin to effective authority through an alliance with the head of the provincial army. This, however, led to further problems with the coup d'etat against Awole in c.1796, when the head of the provincial army decided to rebel against Awole. This, followed by Afonja inciting a Muslim rebellion and further conflict between provincial leaders against an Alafin who could accumulate too much power, paved the way for Oyo's eventual collapse. Oyo, according to Law, was thus unable to attain a comparable degree of centralization to that of Benin, Dahomey and Asante. Whether or not it was really due to the reliance on cavalry for the military (the costs of maintenance for imported horses being too costly for kings alone to finance), Law appears to be correct in noting the lack of adequate centralization to ensure imperial stability. Consequently, after reaching perhaps its imperial and slave trading peak in the 1780s, Oyo declined afterwards as Afonja and the repercussions of Uthman dan Fodio's jihad destroyed Oyo. 

What we find interesting about Oyo is in its role as an imperial middleman between the Sudanic states and the Atlantic. Horses from the north, captives and luxuries acquired through the trans-Saharan trade were sold in Oyo just as European products and cowries circulated north. Oyo, through its reliance on cavalry, may have lacked the degree of centralization of Borno (despite a similar "fief" system of allocating tribute rights) since it had to incur the costs of importing horses and maintenance. Oyo, nonetheless, appears to have faced limitations on its expansion as the forested southern Yorubaland territories were able to resist cavalry. Northern expansion was thwarted by the Nupe and Bariba states who possessed easier access to horses, even if Oyo did succeed in imposing tribute on southern Nupe and Bariba states. Even Oyo expansion to the southwest, for access to the coast through Dahomey and Porto Novo, was likewise limited by the rainy season that made it difficult to permanently retain control over the area. In conclusion, Oyo may have been more restricted than some of its northern, cavalry-based trading partners due to the geographic and climate factors in Lower Guinea. Perhaps these checks imposed on Oyo expansion contributed to the weakening of centralization? If, perhaps, an interior kingdom with access to horses had been able to permanently conquer and administer Dahomey and Porto Novo, unhindered access to Atlantic trade and ongoing northern economic exchange may have stimulated a more centralized Oyo with effective use of firearms?

Taino En Bas Saline

Kathleen Deagan's En Bas Saline: A Taino Town Before and After Columbus is a dry study of an important Taino town on the northern coast of Hispaniola. Possibly the site of La Navidad as well as the main settlement of cacique Guacanagaric, En Bas Saline's indigenous population appears to have been a Chican culture occupying an area of Meillacoid populations. Of course, due to the lack of adequate excavations across northern Haiti, the degree to which the Meillacoid and Chican ceramic styles really indicate cultural identity is unknown. Indeed, despite research at the site of En Bas Saline conducted since the 1980s, we still lack enough information about the nature of the site and if it really was the capital of Guacanagaric. However, analysis of ceramic remains, evidence of structures and the central mound and plaza, faunal remains, ornaments, tools, and postcontact artifacts collectively suggest the site was the settlement of a cacique. Lamentably, the exact nature of Taino sociality and the degree to which Taino cacicazgos were corporate chiefdoms or centered in an individual remains a debate. It is too early to say definitively what exactly was the basis for chiefly authority and to what extent they controlled or redistributed goods and the economy. It was also strange that Deagan did not find evidence of cemis or other artifacts associated with caciques. While evidence for some degree of stratification can be traced in the elite residences and an elite infant burial, it would seem that Guacangaric was a minor cacique compared to the well-known figures of Caonabo or Beheccio. 

Ladeira Da Praça

Descendo no samba a ladeira da praça

Descendo no samba a ladeira da praça

Rawalpindi Blues

One of the highlights from a legendary Carla Bley album. Brings back good memories...

Slave Coast of West Africa

Robin Law's The Slave Coast of West Africa 1550–1750: The Impact of the Atlantic Slave Trade on an African Society offers a fascinating analysis of the Slave Coast during the era of a growing slave trade with Europe. Differing from scholars like Polanyi or Akinjogbin, Law focuses on the impact of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade as a stimulus to commercialization of the economy. The growth of European trade in the region appears to have fueled monetization and market forces through currencies (cowries), imported goods that reached local markets (not just elites or kings for redistribution), sources of iron and thread for smiths and weavers, foodstuffs trade (to provision slave ships), exports of textiles and akori beads for the Gold Coast, and the rise of mercenaries and soldiers for hire. While features of this commercial economy likely existed in the pre-Atlantic trade era, particularly the trade in salt from the coast or trade in textiles, beads, provisions, ivory, and slaves, the trade with Europeans fueled this process. 

In a sense, one could argue that the Atlantic trade did not hinder economic development of the Slave Coast. However, the unknown demographic impact and the necessity of violence to procure captives undoubtedly led to instability and conflict over access to European trade. This process, according to Law, favored the eventual emergence of a hinterland kingdom, Dahomey, as the dominant power due to its military ethos and ability to procure captives for the coastal ports. Dahomey, like Allada and Whydah, learned to combine a mixed position as middleman and supplier of captives yet ultimately failed to create a new kind of state or "revolution" in Slave Coast precolonial polities. Dahomey, despite some decline in the number of captives exported after the conquest of Whydah and Allada, eventually stabilized its exports and was certainly heavily influenced by the European trade. It was also, in turn, shaped by regional political dynamics, particularly the Oyo state to the northeast and the rise of its own merchant class over the course of the 18th century.

Indeed, besides being more autocratic and, eventually, integrating conquered peoples, Dahomey appears to have become rather similar to Allada and Whydah, the two earlier dominant states in the region. Allada, whose decline was already visible by the late 17th century, was once the paramount power in the region (despite also once being under the overlordship of Benin and Oyo). Like the future Dahomey, at least the Dahomey of Tegbesu, Allada and Whydah were ruled by kings who practiced some degree of ritual seclusion, patronized specific cults that were public festivals, engaged in trade with Europe, and competed with each other and subordinate coastal ports and regions for a share in the market of slaves. Women, unlike men, were favored for local slavery while occasional trade wars between Allada and Whydah destabilized both. The western Slave Coast was also impacted by Gold Coast refugees, mercenaries, and bandits who became an additional source of instability and conflict over control of the Slave Coast's lucrative trade. In fact, Dahomey inherited this as post-conquest Whydah rulers fled west for refuge and a branch of the Allada ruling family emerged in Porto Novo. The eastern portion of the Slave Coast increased in importance for the trade with Europe via towns like Badagry while Dahomey's rulers struggled to consolidate their hold over Allada and Whydah. Over time, the Dahomey kingdom seems to have created a provincial administration and endeavored to combine royal control and private share in the slave trade with a supplier and middleman role. 

Ultimately, despite acting as a stimulus to commercialization and economic exchange, the the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade's legacy in the Slave Coast appears to have created disastrous demographic impacts and a reliance on violence in one form or another. Dahomey's catastrophic depopulation of Whydah, for instance, plus the raiding of various inland communities, might have, at best, neutralized the economic stimulation from trade with Europe. Nonetheless, history of Allada, Whydah and Dahomey during these pivotal centuries illustrates how the trans-Atlantic economic networks were deeply linked to interior African polities, such as Oyo. Through these links to Oyo and the Malais or Muslim traders active on the Slave Coast by the early 1700s, one can connect trans-Saharan, trans-Atlantic, and intra-West African trade networks that illustrate the complexity of Slave Coast exchange. Through the trade of captives native to the Slave Coast, one can also detect their legacy in the Americas through religion, culture, and even, for a time, Allada textiles exported to Barbados. The cults of Dangbe, royal dynastyies or ancestors, Fa or Ifa divination, and the history of religious priesthoods opposed to Dahomey highlight how "traditional" religion in the area was always dynamic. It provides a window to the pre-Haitian, pre-Americas history of the spirits. 

Indigenous Influence in Puerto Rican Spanish

Manuel Alvarez Nazario's El influjo indígena en el español de Puerto Rico is an important study and constant entry in the bibliographies of studies on the Taino legacy in the Caribbean. A short study using the existing corpus of known Taino lexicon and expressions in Puerto Rico and the Hispanic Caribbean, Alvarez Nazario extrapolates from the Island Carib and Garifuna language to glimpse at the deeper structure and evolution of the Taino tongue. Since the Island Carib and Garifuna language is, drawing on Taylor's research, an Arawakan language that survived through the Igneri women subjugated by Caribs, Alvarez Nazario believes it may be a reliable indicator on some of the features of the Taino language. Indeed, by drawing on data from linguistic studies of Garifuna, Igneri, Lokono and other Arawakan languages of South America, one can deduce some of the vocabulary and grammatical features of the Taino tongue. Unfortunately, however, the author seems to think the Taino language spread through a late migration into the Greater Antilles that supplanted or possibly conquered the earlier Igneri. Thus, like the later Carib conquerors, the Taino become an invasive force who may have defeated the Igneri and possibly even imposed naboria status on them. Needless to say, the evidence for this is lacking. It nonetheless reflects earlier scholarship in which linguistic and ceramic changes necessarily implied migration rather than local evolution or adaptation.

Despite the issue with the assumptions of migration and a possible "conquest" of the Igneri by the Taino, using the scholarship on Island Carib languages available since the 17th century enriches our understanding of the Taino language. These sources buttress Alvarez Nazario's identification of indigenismos in Puerto Rican Spanish with likely or possible explanations for changed in pronunciation as the words entered the Spanish vernacular. Indigenismos in the case of Puerto Rico, like the Dominican Republic and Cuba, tend to be most obvious with place names, references to everyday life, flora, fauna, and domestic architecture or instruments (yuca, casabe, cayos, canoa, batey, enagua, maraca, bohio, and conuco, for instance). Unsurprisingly, the material culture of the indigenous people survived long after the dissolution of the Taino sociopolitical order. Words reflecting this culture, which was adopted by the Spanish, Africans, and mixed-race progeny of all three groups left a permanent imprint in Puerto Rican Spanish. In the countryside especially, this legacy of the Taino language and culture is quite strong. Indeed, indigenismos from the Taino language even referring to forms of dress, weapons like the macana, and even eyes (macos in Puerto Rican Spanish) suggest indigenous vocabulary was possibly pervasive in other aspects of criollo life. Unfortunately, no surviving voabularios of the Taino language survive from the 1500s, although Fray Domingo de Vico was said to have composed one in the 1540s based on the language spoken in Hispaniola. 

The remainder of Alvarez Nazario's study gives multiple examples of how indigenismos were incorporated into the Spanish language. Additional suffixes and adaptations turned or adapted many local terms into verbs or new meanings in colonial and modern Puerto Rican Spanish. Indigenismos from other languages of the Americas also left an imprint, including Nahuatl, Carib, and South American Guajiro (ture, for stool, is supposedly derived from Guajiro). Overall, the indigenous influence profoundly shaped Puerto Rican Spanish as it provided the lexicon for the local features of land, flora, fauna, agriculture, peasant homesteads, and perhaps even the term jibaro. Even if the Taino really was no longer spoken by the end of the 16th century, survivors and their children laid the foundation for the Creole culture of our rural majority. Indeed, the linguistic evidence provides further support for the proponents of of Taino survival as some of the vocabulary, expressions, and toponyms were likely retained by those descending from the indigenous population. 

Haitian Africanisms

Using Haiti as a case study of evaluating African cultural retentions or survivals in the New World is not a new endeavor. However, J.B. Romain's Africanismes Haitiens presents a short but useful overview of the various manifestations of African culture in Haiti. Names, folklore, arts, totemism, taboos, domestic architecture, language, Vodou, music, dance, herbal lore, proverbs, and conceptions of the soul and personhood all indicate traces of Africa. Of course, since we are overwhelmingly African in origin, none of this is a surprise. What's more interesting are the number of Africanisms that can be traced directly to specific African ethnic groups and cultures, such as Wolof words and phrases in Haitian Creole or the Gedevi people of Benin and the Gede spirits in Vodou. Romain knows very well that much of this heritage has changed or experienced modifications over time. Indeed, French and Catholic influences, rites, and allusion have undoubtedly shaped the formation of Haitian culture. But learning of the specific Fongbe expressions that survive in Vodou's langage or the Yanvalou dance in its Benin context is fascinating. The preemince of cultural survivals from the area of Benin, Togo and southern Nigeria is especially interesting since Haitians also descend from huge numbers of captives from West Central Africa.