Revisiting Contribution à l'étude de l'ethnobotanique précolombienne des Grandes Antilles

After reading numerous other studies on the indigenous peoples of the Caribbean, revisiting Jacques Roumain's "Contribution à l'étude de l'ethnobotanique précolombienne des Grandes Antilles" in Oeuvres Complètes  is a more meaningful experience. As the only substantial article on the indigenous peoples of Haiti (and the Greater Antilles) by Roumain, this piece from the 1940s shows Roumain attempting to bring together the historical, archaeological and linguistic sources. An added benefit is the inclusion of Haitian Creole names for various flora of the region, not just the Taino and Spanish names (often derived from the Taino or indigenous names). This is particularly interesting as one can see how Haitian Creole words for local flora are often not of Taino origin, though hardly shocking. But as one of the few articles that tries to bring Haitian perspectives into conversation with sources drawn from Spanish, English or German sources, Roumain's work shows there is a place for Haitian perspectives. Indeed, the Puerto Rican scholar, Francisco Moscoso, made a point of citing Nau for his understanding of how Taino chiefdoms worked through tribute obligations. One only wishes Roumain had lived long enough to explore other dynamics of indigenous Caribbean archaeology and socio-political questions. Perhaps Haitian ethnology could have maintained a more serious interest in the indigenous theme.

Marx in the Prehispanic Antilles

Several years ago, a Puerto Rican specialist in 19th century Hispanic Caribbean "Indianist" literature recommended the works of Francisco Moscoso. He specifically mentioned that we must read Tribu y clases en el Caribe antiguo. Foolishly, we scanned parts of that important book but then lost the file. The next best thing was to locate the English-language dissertation that was the basis of the book. "The Development of Tribal Society in the Caribbean" contains the essential points of the later monograph and is far more accessible. Reading it was a challenging and provocative experience as Moscoso sought to refute or problematize earlier Marxist and historical materialist interpretations of the Taino past. 

Perhaps the excessively lengthy first two chapters could have been reduced to a single chapter, although one sees their importance later on for Moscoso's deconstruction of Engels, Marx, and Morgan on primitive, communal societies to early class societies. Despite his occasional quoting of Marx, Engels, Mao, and Lenin, Moscoso was a little less dogmatic than we initially expected. By the end of the dissertation, Moscoso has made quite explicit his conclusions regarding burgeoning class formation through the tribute taken from commoners for the benefit of caciques. With the aid of nitainos, or clanlords, and behqiues (shamans and magico-religious specialists), the cacique, or chief, oversaw production, determined military actions, received tribute, and established a "semi-theocratic" system in which cemis and religious practices were linked to the chiefdom. 

By rejecting ecological determinism and interpretations by Caribbean archaeologists or historians that ignored or downplayed elements of incipient class formation, Moscoso forcefully argues that the Taino chiefdoms represented a tribal-tributary mode of production en route to class society. The Taino past is charted from prehistoric hunter-gatherer bands in Venezuela to the various cultures and migrations from the South American littoral to the Greater Antilles. Over several millennia, agriculture, ceramics, seafaring, and differentiation of producers and non-producers culminated in the chiefdom. Using comparative data from other chiefdoms, Moscoso offers some possible explanations for the rise of the system while rejecting Engels on the rise of classes. Instead of slavery as the immediate successor to primitive communal bands, the tribal-tributary model was a more likely intermediate step which can be seen in the case of the Taino. The Taino system, to him, would have likely developed into a despotic-tributary state as found among some other indigenous societies of the Americas had it not been for the Spanish conquest. 

The specific evidence for the tributary system allegedly established by the caciques of the Greater Antilles can be traced in archaeology, religion, the encomienda system, and the Spanish chroniclers. Since Las Casas, Oviedo and early colonial sources mention the control of labor, storehouses, and the high status of caciques and nitainos who were not engaged in production, one can surmise that there was ample surplus among the polities for greater differentiation and division of labor. The caciques benefited the most from this process since they received a part of this surplus, monopolized higher quality cassava bread, dressed distinctly, and were, based on the encomienda system, presumably incorporated into it for their control of the labor of commoners. From the cacicazgo of Xaragua, for instance, we find evidence of the great wealth and accumulation of goods and power achieved by caciques on the eve of the Spanish conquest. Puerto Rico, through Agueybana as paramount chief, was said to have been similarly powerful. Since we are lacking sufficient information for islands other than Hispaniola and Puerto Rico, Moscoso admits to varying degrees of development of chiefdoms, possibly a dimension of Tainoness as a spectrum of cultures with shared elements. Certainly, the Spanish chroniclers saw a general shared culture in the Greater Antilles and chiefdoms across the region.

Additional evidence of the incipient formation of classes can be found in the ruling ideology of Taino society reflecting the superior status and wealth of the cacique. The areytos, for instance, usually recorded the gests and genealogies of chiefs, indicating that the most important history to the Taino was that of the ruling segment of society. The storage of cemis in the caney or house of the chief, and the role of the cacique as intermediary between a cemi and the community through cohoba rituals likewise reflects the role of the religion in buttressing political authority. Whether or not calling this semi-theocratic or by some other nomenclature is helpful is beyond us, but clearly religion, areytos, and even redistributive feasts came to justifying an order in which some exploited the labor of others, even without the existence of private property. Such a phenomenon was also noted for parts of precolonial Africa by the South African Marxist, Bernard Magubane. The Taino case appears to have been similar, although the Antillean cosmovision may have reflected certain South American perspectivist influences and beliefs not entirely encapsulated in a Marxist analysis. 

Overall, this unapologetic Marxist analysis of the Taino cacicazgo raises a number of fascinating questions on the nature of the "state" in the precolonial Caribbean and Caribbean societal formation. However, drawing upon other examples of indigenous societies in the Americas, such as the Iroquois and northern South American societies, raises a number of unanswerable or unknown issues. Were the ritual belts used by caciques, for example, also records of information, like wampum belts? Or, to draw from the classic 19th century histories, to what extent can Nau's claim of communal labor as tribute to the caciques of Hispaniola really be verified for, say, the Bahamas? Furthermore, more recent archaeologists seem to be less certain about the degree of centralization and the size of cacicazgos in Haiti and Puerto Rico. Is heterarchy, rather than hierarchy, what we should be looking for in the Antilles? If so, how does that challenge this Marxist analysis of the Antillean cacique?

Caciques and Cemi Idols

Caciques and Cemi Idols: The Web Spun by Taino Rulers Between Hispaniola and Puerto Rico by José R. Oliver is a challenging read. Drawing from more recent scholarship that challenges the paradigm of Irving Rouse and past generations of archaeologists, Oliver focuses on the political-religious dynamics of Taino civilization through caciques and cemí idols. Pushing back against Rouse, Oliver sees Tainoness as a complex mosaic of societies (mostly) in the Greater Antilles, with diverse histories of interactions with the Archaic societies in the region. However, intense interactions and mobility linked this mosaic of societies and polities (perhaps peer chiefdoms and heterarchy is more accurate for the sociopolitical character of precolonial Puerto Rico and other islands), especially Puerto Rico and Higuey in Hispaniola. 

Moreover, Oliver contextualizes Taino religion through a multinatural, animistic cosmos similar to perspectivism among South American indigenous populations. Through that lens, the Taino cemí represents a state of being in which even deceased forebears can become cemífied. Due to their animistic, multinatural worldview, the Taino also believed humans, animals, and objects like stones or wood have personhood. However, this personhood was dividual, partible, permeable and fractal. This belief, plus the use of cohoba for communing with a cemi probably explains the fusion of human and animal features in some Taino art. Clearly, Oliver is suggesting a rather different model for understanding Taino religion than that of Arrom, but one that may be more accurate than Arrom's assumption of a Western-like individualist perspective. Either way, it suggests Taino religion was part of a much deeper history of cemí religious practices, one that may have begun as early as 700 AD. 

Most of Caciques focuses on the different types of cemí idols, such as trigonoliths and face masks, and the close relationship between said idols and cacique political authority. Cemí figures could be inherited, stolen, gifted, or exchanged in a complex set of ways that linked caciques to each other, as well as lineage groups and alliances. As persons or beings invested with personhood, a cemí could develop a lengthy biography and become part of an epic history of a cacique, their lineage, or community. This helps explain why Ramón Pané reported some were able to flee or run away, or others were very human-like. For our purposes, it would be excellent to know, if possible, the extent to which the cemís described in the famous account by Pané were objects of specific veneration across Hispaniola, Puerto Rico, Jamaica, and parts of Cuba. 

The remainder of the book shifts to the thorny question of acculturation, transculturation, assimilation and the post-conquest conditions of Taino religion. As the political system was deeply embedded in their religion, the Spanish conquest sought to destroy both. Through native alliances, they were able to defeat the indigenous polities of Hispaniola and Puerto Rico. With the death of the cacicazgo, suppression of cohoba and cemis, Taino religion was irrevocably changed. However, aspects of Marian devotion in Cuba and archaeological evidence there suggest possible Taino influence. Early glimpses of it could be seen in the 1490s in Hispaniola and early Cuba, where some Taino adopted icons of the Virgin as another type of cemi. Perhaps most interesting was the way in which some caciques used Catholic icons against rival native chiefs. Even more impressive, Agueybana II's rebellion and the long-lasting resistance on Puerto Rico actually sought to spread indigenous rebellion to Hispaniola through their web of related kin and political allies in Higuey! Unfortunately, the movement in Hispaniola was defeated before it could have been implemented. Nonetheless, it was an interesting example of how caciques in Puerto Rico and Hispaniola continued to consult their cemis and used the guidance of said beings to guide their rebellions against Spanish authority. That type of resistance was eliminated with the destruction of the cacique's political authority's religious basis, the cemi. 

Early Spanish Caribbean Society

Although we are mainly interested in the past of the indigenous populations of the Greater Antilles and their legacy, Altman's Life and Society in the Early Spanish Caribbean: The Greater Antilles, 1493–1550 is an interesting read on early Caribbean colonial society. True, due to the sources it is more detailed for the white or European population rather than the Africans and Indians who outnumbered them. But, the colonial society was not a replica of the Iberian peninsula. It was also profoundly shaped by the indigenous cultures, labor, and knowledge. Thus, in covering those pivotal first 50 years or so of Spanish conquest and colonization, Altman urges us to rethink many of our assumptions. For instance, the Spanish Caribbean did experience a decline in gold production and it obviously lost much of its population (decimation of indigenous communities plus Spanish migration to the mainland colonies of New Spain or Peru). However, sugarcane, hatos, the development of new towns, and large rural populations led to more stable colonial economies. Moreover, indigenous populations did not completely disappear. 

As suggested by other scholars, acculturation and evangelization of local Indian populations appears to have been rather weak for the first half of the 16th century. For example, areitos and other traditions and customs persisted well into the colonial era. Local Indian customs and traditions were even adopted by others, such as the botanical and pharmacological knowledge of the Taino. It is possible Taino fishing practices and knowledge were also adopted by others in the society. The influx of Indian and African slaves also left a demographic impact that shaped colonial society dynamics in profound ways. Indians from other parts of the circum-Caribbean region and Africans led to the consolidation of chattel slavery in the New World while establishing consistent foci of resistance through maroon communities and rebellions. Furthermore, much of the socioracial order established throughout Latin America was first implemented or developed in Hispaniola and the other Antillean colonies. Even though each island was different, with perhaps Jamaica not receiving as much attention as the rest, the general conclusion seems to be that the Latin American political and economic order was first developed in the Caribbean. And the Caribbean remained central to Spanish empire and expansion long after the conquest of central Mexico and Peru. 

What was most interesting to us is also the utility of this study for understanding this colonial world through the biographical segments or sections. Certain villainous or fascinating characters emerged out of the unique conditions of conquest. Through timing, luck, personal connections, participation in conquest or pacification, and service as a royal official, a number of people enriched themselves or even experienced a degree of upward mobility. Some, as in the case of Isabel de Maraver, daughter of a converso named Juan Guillén, experienced poverty, loss, and accommodation in a new, nominally Spanish society. Our interest in Juan Guillén was originally genealogical, as the research of Burset Flores suggests one of his daughters ended up in Puerto Rico as the wife of a Pedro de Espinosa. Through Eufrasia, there must be a huge number of Puerto Ricans who are descendants of Juan Guillén, not to mention descendants in the Dominican Republic from his descendants in Hispaniola. 

If Burset Flores was indeed correct in identifying the parents of Eufrasia Maraver, then she was a sister of the impoverished widow Isabel de Malaver described in the sixth chapter of Altman's book. Why did Eufrasia not do anything to assist her aged father, Juan, and other relatives living in an impoverished, mixed-race household in Hispaniola (one that included black female slaves, mestizas, and an old Indian female servant)? It seems that the family came too late to Hispaniola, missing out on the 1514 Repartimiento. However, Eufrasia married well with Pedro de Espinosa, a slaveholderw who also possessed "free" Indians. Even if he was the same man who fought with a son-in-law of Ponce de Leon, he was a regidor and person of some status in Puerto Rico. Considering the close proximity between the two colonies and the fact that many of settlers in Puerto Rico came from Hispaniola, one is a little surprised that Eufrasia and her husband appear to have done nothing to assist their less fortunate relatives.