Guateque Campesino

Whilst listening to old Cuban music, we came across yet another word supposedly derived from an indigenous language. Used in Cuban and Antillean Spanish, guateque seems to refer to house parties or dances. Checking bilingual or trilingual dictionaries for Garifuna, Lokono, Palikur, and Breton, we could not find any word similar to guateque. The term might be derived from another indigenous language. In Garifuna, Lokono, and Palikur, we found words for dance, but nothing quite specific as a "house party." In the Garifuna tongue, a dance is called abinahani and a party might be translated as fedu. In Palikur, dance is kay but a dancer is called kaykevutne. In Arawak of Guyana, dance is ibini, clearly similar to the Garifuna word. We wonder if there is any relation between the Palikur words for dance and dancer and possible Taino equivalents.

The Word For Farm Is Forest

One of the most fundamental words for understanding the culture and history of the indigenous peoples of the Caribbean is conuco. Still used in Caribbean Spanish and Papiamento, conuco referred to the mound plots of yucca and other crops cultivated by the "Taino" in the Antilles. Among the Lokono or Arawak on the mainland, however, a forest is called kunuku. How is it that among the "Taino" in the Caribbean, a word for forest was used for agricultural plots clearly human-made? Some scholars, such as Sven Loven, interpret this as evidence that in their ancient past, the "Taino" used to construct their mounds after clearing a wooded area. This could be the case, yet it is intriguing that none of the other Arawakan languages spoken nearby have adapted the word for forest to an agricultural plot or mound. 

Let us take a brief look at words for related concepts in other languages spoken in northern South America, as well as Garifuna and Kalinago. In Garifuna, a farm is méinabu. The word for forest, however, is árabu. This same word is used for flora, too, while to cultivate is ábunagua. This latter term may be related to the word for to bury, ábuna. Looking to the Kalinago or "Island Carib" language, obviously similar to Garifuna, one finds a few more words. A garden, according to Rochefort, is maina. A forest is arabou, clearly the origin for the Garifuna term. Breton's dictionary, however, provides a few more words for garden. One word given in his dictionary is oubácali. Other synonyms for garden include máima, as well as Icháli. The second term actually survives in Garifuna as ichari, or large vegetable patch. To our knowledge, neither Rochefort nor Breton listed a word similar to conuco for farm, plot, soil or mound. However, one can see that Icháli is the "female language" word for garden, and presumably the Arawakan-derived term used in the Lesser Antilles before the expansion of Cariban-speakers in the archipelago. 

Examining South American languages may provide additional clues. The aforementioned Lokono, for instance, uses ororo for earth, according to Goeje's The Arawak Language of Guiana. To plan is abone whilst land or farm is o-horora. A tree is called ada and a planted field is kabuya. Only kunuku, or forest, is close to the "Taino" word. Indeed, Palikur, another Arawakan language provides few clues, too. Terre is translated as wayk, but forest is ahavwi. A farmer is called a wasevutne and wood is ah. In Wayuu, another Arawakan languages, selva is translated as wuna'apü, tree or wood is wunu'u and una'apü. To sow is in apünajaa and cultivo is pünajüt. The Wayuu term for forest may be related to the Kalinago and Garifuna words. The even more distant Ashaninka language of the Amazonian region uses inchatoshi for forest, and quipatsi for earth. Last, but certainly not least, the non-Arawakan Warao tongue uses daukaba for conuco and hacienda. Their word for wood or forest is dauna/daina. Intriguingly, the Warao use dau for wood and tree. Their word for tierra, Jobaji, is unlike other words we have encountered just as namú for sembrar is unique. Like the "Taino" in the Antilles, the Warao seem to use a word for conuco that ultimately derives from their word for tree and forest. 

Although we have barely scratched the surface, one wonders if the unique character of the "Taino" conuco deriving from a term for forest can be seen as a parallel with speakers of Warao. Although they did not share the same terminology for their plots of land, both languages seem to have adapted their words for forest for agricultural lands used for cultivating crops. This etymology also makes more sense than that proposed by Vescelius and Granberry, who sought to trace the origin of conuco to uku (meaning earth, soil, or terrain) and ko, for planting of crops. Is it possible that the early speakers of the "Taino" tongue, who we know interacted with Warao speakers they borrowed the word duho from, were similarly influenced by terminology or ideas traced to agriculture? A lot more work remains to be done. 

Cacique

Modesto Garcia's depiction of a cacique in Los indocubanos.

One thing we have long wondered about is why political leaders or chiefs were designated as cacique in the Taino language. While it has been demonstrated since Brinton's scholarship in the 19th century that the Taino cacique has the same root as the Arawak or Lokono kassiquan or, in Goeje's work, isikwa (rendered by Marie-France Patte as kashikoali to signify male ownership of a house in which one is in charge of, or kashikoa as a verb for owning a house, or shikoa as the verb in Guyane). Why is it that to own a home became attached to political leadership in the Taino language to a marked degree but not the Lokono or Kalinago languages? There is embedded in the word for owner of a house a degree of political power or authority of some kind, but the Lokono word for chief or leader is usually given as afodo, shi or barhosen. The second of these Arawak terms seems to be etymologically related to the word for head, and shi or ishi could potentially be the -ci in cacique. Another Arawakan language, Wayuu, uses the word alaülashi for chief or owner, as well as the word laülaa, which is also used to describe elders.

Yet Goeje's alphabetical index of Arawak words of Guyana defines translates chief as adaierobi-ci. To be a ruler or have authority is given as adaia. Why such a stark difference between this Lokono way of expressing chief or authority and the more familiar cacique? Some of this may just reflect the local differences between different communities of Arawak-speakers in Guyana, Guyane, and Suriname. Nonetheless, it is interesting how the Kalinago words related to chiefs, leaders, and leadership were also distinct from Taino's cacique. For example, Garifuna uses ábuti and arúneri for chief and captain, respectively. House is muna. In the Kalinago language dictionary of the 17th century, one sees youboutou for village chiefs or captains. In addition, amachi appears for the female speakers of the language for captain. This amachi sounds a bit like the Wayuu word for chief, whereas youboutou could descend from a Cariban language. In Palikur, another rather distinct word for chief is used, kivara.

From what we can see in the Arawakan languages of northern South America, with the exception of some Arawak speakers and the Taino in the Antilles, chiefs  may not have been usually called caciques. But following Oliver's fascinating work on the "Taino" civilization which is centered on caciques, cemis and cohoba, one must look at mainland societies which also shared this ritual and political geography. In terms of the duhos or dujos utilized by the Taino, the only Arawakan language with a word resembling it to express stool is Wayuu. Both may have borrowed the term from Warao or a Warao-related language in the distant past. Despite Brinton's claim of identifying an Arawak word for stool resembling duho, modern dictionaries usually translate it as ahabula, ala, hala or balutukoana, which could be derived from the Warao. Intriguingly, Goeje recorded a very similar word for servant in Warao to the Taino equivalent, suggesting that Taino speakers likely interacted with Warao peoples in the mainland or, perhaps, in the Caribbean itself. In Kalinago, the word for stool resembles that of Lokono. What about cemi? Breton's dictionary does include a Kalinago equivalent to the Taino, just as Goeje included semehe as an Arawak equivalent as seme or semehe, speculating a link to the word for sweet. Intriguingly, it is only in Arawak where it is recorded that the word for shaman was based on seme or semehe. As for cohoba, we know the shamans of the Arawak or Lokono included smoke or tobacco in their healing rituals. The Arawak word for tobacco is actually close to that of Garifuna (iyuri). Arawak dictionaries also suggest a close connection between smoke and shamans, with Patte's dictionary including the word korhedoan, to smoke. This was also given in Goeje's work as ahakobu-(in) or ahakubu-(n), to breathe, to relax. Cohoba among the Taino may share a similar etymology, although one wonders if the mainland Arawak ritual paraphernalia were similar.

Undoubtedly, shamanistic and religious practices were built around some deeply shared conventions, beliefs, and practices when it came to healing, tobacco, and the use of other substances. But it is interesting nonetheless to see how Taino appears more unique in that they incorporated a word of possible Warao origin for a major item associated with chiefly power and ritual, the duho. If Las Casas is reliable, the ranking of caciques also attests to a deeper stratification and division of authority achieved by the cacicazgos in the Antilles. With the possible exception of Arawak, which includes more than one word for chief, Taino political organization seems more stratified and, unsurprisingly, distinct from related mainland cultures. There is no doubt, however, that these cultures were interacting in various forms and the words used by them to express political, ritual, religious or social relations or dynamics reflect a dynamic region in the precolonial period. One should consider the Kalinago and Taino words for shaman, for instance. A close examination of shamanistic and healing practices across these diverse cultures, with an open eye to broader patterns and similar vocabulary with other parts of South America would be quite illustrative for the exchange of ideas and practice.

For now, the origin of the cacique seems to be rooted in heads of households who, through that basis, must have became village chiefs and, later on, paramount chieftains in some areas. Keeping in mind the large number of people living in some households in these lowland tropical South American societies and in the Antilles, a single house could have included a significant number of people. Then, over time, the caciques among the "Taino" were able to consolidate their power through ritual and the support of the shamans. The subordinate "class" of naboría may have developed, at least initially, from young men who owed service to the heads of households, although there undoubtedly were other ways to fall into that status. The caciques in the Antilles, at least, according to Las Casas, developed different ranks of chief and achieved some degree of control on subjected households, who paid "tribute." If we could dig deeper into the ritual and religious foundations of the cacique's authority, and the degree to which the bohiti were incorporated in this political arrangement, perhaps we can more easily see the development of the Caribbean cacique.