From Oral to Written Expression in the Colonial Andes

From Oral to Written Expression: Native Andean Chronicles of the Early Colonial Period is a dense collection of short essays on indigenous chroniclers or history writers of colonial Peru. Some essays require familiarity with Quechua linguistics and oral literatures since the essayists seek to explore how indigenous worldviews, languages, and ideas shaped the production of chronicles or relations in Spanish. But also included among the indigenous writings is the Huarochiri Manuscript, written in a literary Quechua. Pictorial representations are also up for analysis, such as the in the famous work of Guaman Poma de Ayala or the work of Juan de Santa Cruz Pachacuti Yamqui Salcamayhua. Even Diego De Castro Titu Cusi Yupanqui is included among the indigenous chroniclers despite only dictating his words to another to tell a Vilcabamba Inca version of the Spanish conquest. Although dated (published in the early 1980s), this compilation presents an earlier phase in the academic analysis of indigenous chroniclers in the Andean world. Unlike Mexico or Mesoamerica, there were fewer indigenous chroniclers and a lack of a precolonial system of writing like Maya glyphs. Thus, the Andean response to the spread of writing after colonial conquest presents a different "high civilization" adapting writing for its own purposes. As "transitional" literature in the history of historical writings from Latin America, they represent both indigenous and Spanish/Western forms and traditions in a way that was perhaps inaccessible to individuals from distinct worlds. Adorno and Salomon express this quite clearly in the way, particularly the former, tries to juxtapose pictorial representations with an Andean view to elucidate symbolic (and ahistorical) sections of Guaman Poma's work. 

Acosta and the Incas

Reading Jose de Acosta's Natural and Moral History of the Indies for a deep chronicle of the Inca Empire is bound to disappoint. Acosta's work, which focuses on the Americas in general (though Acosta had traveled to other parts of the Americas like Santo Domingo), largely synthesized older accounts of the Inca past, particularly the works of Polo de Ondegardo. Consequently, his account of the Inca past is rather derivative and, besides references to the flora, fauna, and superstitions of Indians in Peru, adds little. In some respects his coverage of the Inca and Aztec Empires emphasizes how these peoples, deceived by Satan from Acosta's Jesuit perspective, built impressive civilizations that paved the way for Christianity to spread. Thus, unlike the indigenous peoples of Brazil or other parts of the Americas which lacked large kingdoms or polities, the Incas and Aztecs promoted religious cults that, like ancient Rome, facilitated the spread of Christianity through the state's institutions and influence across a vast territory. Acosta's perspective also reminded us of Edward Blyden's views on Islam in West Africa, which he similarly praised while also expressing the belief that Islam will prepare the path for the Christianization of black Africans. But to return to Acosta as a chronicler of the Incas, this does not offer much. Acosta shifts between condemnation of the Incas and admiration, and there are interesting moments of comparative ethnology of the various peoples of the America (and East Asia). But we hope to read another cronista with a more substantial narrative of the Inca past. And really, 1000 people sacrificed to accompany the dead Huayna Capac?

A History of the Khipu

Galen Brokaw's A History of the Khipu endeavors to outline the known history of the khipu through an interdisciplinary approach. Such an approach is necessary given the fact that there is so much to the khipu that is unknown or poorly understood. By drawing from various disciplines like anthropology, history, literacy studies, media studies, theories of Quechua ontology of numbers, and archaeology, one can surmise certain features of the khipu. Indeed, by viewing khipu as a medium with different genre conventions across time and place, Brokaw's review of the history of this particular non-alphabetic medium can emphasize its semiotic heterogeneity over the longue durée. This encompasses all that is known of pre-Hispanic Andean khipu as well as the survival and transformation of khipu in the colonial and independence eras. 

Perhaps most important for our interests is the emphasis on growing sophistication of khipu for recording different types of information in the Wari and Inca empires. Earlier forms of Andean semiosis through Wari architectural, Moche inscribed beans, yupana counting boards and textile patterns of the Wari civilization are all significant, but with the rise of larger, imperial political systems in the Andean region, the need for different types of khipu to record information necessary for the bureaucracy became paramount. While the Wari khipu are not the same as that of the Inca, who may have developed even more genre conventions such as imperial khipu historiographical "texts" and more refined census, tribute, and calendrical khipu, there does appear to be a correlation between more developed khipu literacies and state formation and administrative needs. This is not to deny the earlier forms of semiosis through features like inscribed beans analyzed by Brokaw in the early chapter on the Moche.

After the Spanish conquest, khipu use persisted. However, with the demise of the Inca political system, certain genres, like historiographical khipu used for recounting the past of the Inca rulers, gradually disappeared. Khipu genres used for census purposes or recording tribute, however, were used by the Spanish colonial system. These genres provided necessary information for the system of encomiendas and the visitas across various regions of the Andes. Of course, the khipu had to be adapted since the Spanish tribute system was not the same as that of the Inca one. Moreover, despite past scholarship's emphasis on the Third Lima Council's alleged "ban" on khipu, Brokaw cites numerous sources (Jesuit and other) on the use of confessional khipu or khipu use promoted by the Church to further evangelize the Indians. This suggests that khipu was never banned outright, despite some discomfort or hesitation about "idolatrous khipu" used for the worship of huacas or unease about the prominence of indigenous community leaders in carrying out Church functions. Nonetheless, it becomes quite clear that khipu use continued throughout the colonial period. 

After 1650, clear references to the khipu in the colonial archive become rare. Brokaw elucidates this pattern quite well, demonstrating that it was due to the colonial state relying less on the types of information supplied by the khipu, the growth of alphabetic literacy among indigenous communities, and the dissolution of indigenous community organizations based on indigenous principles. Brokaw additionally explains why the way pastoral khipu are used today in parts of the Andes may differ from the khipu of the Inca era. In short, many scholars ignore the diversity in genre of khipu, and the role of a large state system in codifying certain types of khipu genres for its purposes. Once the Inca state disappeared, these types of khipu records gradually dissolved with it, leaving behind local khipu records of the genre used by indigenous communities for keeping track of camelid herds or recording tribute obligations.

Finally, Brokaw seems less confident about the possibility of fully cracking the "code" of khipu. Given the diversity of genres and how perhaps the most complex narrative khipu seem to have disappeared by the 1600s, the "code" for cracking one genre of khipu may not be useful for "reading" other genres. Each genre followed its own conventions, and historians and archaeologists will have to uncover more khipu artifacts, colonial-era transcriptions, or other types of evidence to fully understand this highly complex medium. 

Inca Civilization in Cuzco

Guaman Poma's sketch of Cuzco (Source)

This is probably not the best place to start with for Zuidema. A translation of lecture series from the 1980s he gave in France, the book attempts to analyze myths reported in the chronicle, fieldwork based on the ceque system, and kinship structure theories to make sense of how Inca civilization in Cuzco was tied to the calendrical, agricultural, and ritual cycle. Somehow it's all connected to moieties in which, however, each ruling Inca did not have a panaca that continued after his death. I'm still not sure what to make of Zuidema, but I'm definitely in favor of the more historicist approaches to the chronicles. Zuidema, on the other hand, seems to think that viewing more of the information recorded in the chronicles as myth can actually free our minds to develop alternative models which might be closer to the realities of pre-Hispanic Andean civilization. He even compares the age-class system of the Inca to the Ge peoples of Brazil, raising a possible area of exploration by looking at the Andean age-grade system in comparison with all of South America's Amerindian peoples.

I guess I keep falling back on the historicist bias since some of the chroniclers, like Sarmiento de Gamboa, even had representatives of each 'panaca' listen to the chronicle and offer feedback for any points they disagreed with. It's possible that each group had its own 'mythohistoric' view of their collective past and were able to agree on a coherent enough vision that was written down by Sarmiento de Gamboa. But I suspect the Inca, at least since Pachacuti, had a keen interest in history in both our "modern" sense and one related to myth. I don't think they interpreted their past as entirely "mythohistoric" and the evidence of possible quipu "records" and specialists in the interpretation of said records undoubtedly meant that a core "historic" tradition must have been propagated since at least Pachachuti in the 1400s.

Ancient Kingdoms of Peru

Although it is a little outdated (published in the 1990s), Nigel Davies's The Ancient Kingdoms of Peru provides a nice overview on the history of ancient Peru. Covering the period from the preceramic and Chavin cultures to the Spanish conquest, Davies attempts to elucidate the development of civilizations in Peru (and neighboring areas, to a certain extent) as well as the shifting analysis of these past cultures by archaeologists and historians. Obviously, the lack of a system of writing and records prior to the Spanish period means that most of the book draws from studies by archaeologists who have examined various sites, developed ceramic typologies and chronologies, and have endeavored to understand the nature of political, social, and economic organization. As the author gets closer to the era of the Spanish conquest, written sources from the colonial period become useful, particularly for the Incas and, to a lesser extent, the Chimu state of the coast. Davies masterfully draws upon this vast written corpus when appropriate, although occasionally delving into problematic "language" of "savages" when discussing Indians in Ecuador who opposed Inca expansion. But this probably reflects the time in which the book was published. As a brief introduction to a very complex center of early human civilization, Davies wrote a useful work. He probably did not need to include his critiques of wacky theories of ancient aliens visiting the Nasca, but perhaps a book aimed for a non-specialist audience had to do so to dispel pseudoscientific ideas. It could have potentially been strengthened by a more detailed breakdown of the verticality theory for Andean civilizations, as well as an overview of how long-distance trade with Ecuador and the Amazon may have impacted pre-Inca civilizations. Nonetheless, for those new to the Moche's marvelous arts and the long-lasting iconographical symbolism across much of the region's civilizations, there was clearly much interaction, migration, exchange, and cultural borrowing from the coast to the highlands. Now, we have to find copies of Miguel de Cabello Balboa, Cieza de Leon, and other early Spanish sources on Peru for a deeper dive into the precolonial past. 

Memoriales antiguas historiales del Peru

Fernando Montesino's Memoriales antiguas historiales del Peru is a tricky source. The manuscript translated by Philip AInsworth Means includes a critical introduction by Clements R. Markham indicating that the chronicle was likely based on a lost text by the Jesuit mestizo, Blas Valera. However, Montesinos endeavored to force the long history of Peru into a Christian timeline based on the arrival of Noah's son, Ophir, in Peru and reckoning years by 1000 year periods since the Flood. It also appears that Montesinos frequently confused ancient, pre-Inca kings with those better known from other sources on the Inca period. Nonetheless, despite the clearly legendary character of many of the pre-Inca kings and the problems with the chronology suggested by Montesinos, his work is an invaluable source on how, filtered through his own bias, the amautas and quipucamayocs possibly conceived the ancient history of Peru. Furthermore, the idea of the Incas rendering time through cycles with new suns in which, after every 500 years or so, a Pachacuti reigned, is a fascinating one that could point to Mesoamerican influences. Alas, the more reliable work of Blas Valera is lost, forcing us to make sense of the Montesino's work with what has survived from various other Spanish chroniclers, Garcilaso de la Vega and Guaman Poma de Ayala. 

In some respects, the chronicle is mainly a long list of names with some receiving great detail on events during their reigns. This brings to mind sources like the Diwan of the Sayfawa in Kanem-Borno. Like this African dynasty, a number of critical questions has arisen with regard to the chronology used, the possibility of telescoping or confusion, the inclusion of early kings who are of a more legendary character, and the function of such long lists. Sadly, unlike Kanem-Borno, we lack written sources from the pre-conquest period that corroborate it. But, in accordance with the chronicle of Guaman Poma de Ayala, one can also see how a chronicle written as a long list would be likely based on oral traditions preserving history through songs and genealogies while also, perhaps, reflecting the use of quipus. Indeed, Montesinos himself states this, as he claims amautas and quipus were the sources of his chronicle. However, unlike any other source, this is the only one that delves deeply into the matter of pre-Inca kings, before the Inca state of Cuzco developed into a powerful empire that dominated Peru and surrounding areas. It even alludes to migrations and invasions from the Amazonian region and north that, if even remotely true, show how well-connected Peru was to other parts of South America. 

Were some of these pre-Inca kings, also said to have been based in Cuzco and having the same origin as the Incas in other creation myths recorded in the chronicles, actually references to Wari and Tiwanaku kings? Why were they then later remembered as kings based in Cuzco? Was this simply an example of Inca-period amautas transforming the past in a way that affirmed the ultimate Inca authority over Peru based on antiquity? Or was this a reflection of a cyclical view of the past, with similarly-named kings assuming to have ruled over various periods of greatness and decline for thousands of years? Undoubtedly, the chronology used here reminds one of that used by Guaman Poma de Ayala, who, instead of multiplying the number of kings, extended the reigns and life-spans of the Inca emperors and rulers back to about 2000 years ago. However, the traditions recorded by Montesinos allude to interesting events that, while perhaps mainly of an apocryphal character, include a loss system of ancient writing, wars and migrations with people from the East and North and across the sea (including "black" people in their ranks), and the earlier expansion of the Peruvian kings into Quito. Again, Montesinos confuses some of these earlier kings and their exploits with the better known (and significantly later) Inca period of imperial expansion, but perhaps these tales reflect earlier Tiwanaku, Wari, and Chimu states. 

Ultimately, we are of the view that the long list of 93 kings or more of Peru likely does reflect earlier periods in which Wari and Tiwanaku were major powers in the region. The extended chronology and the possibility of collateral succession probably indicate that the extended chronology of Montesinos is far too long. Nonetheless, some of the details reported here are fascinating though difficult or impossible to prove. The idea of the ancient Peruvians having a system of writing using parchment and leaves is fascinating, especially since other traditions about Viracocha (sometimes confused with St. Thomas the Apostle) mention him carrying a book. Whether or not it was actually true that an oracle demanded they cease the use of this writing system seems more legendary, but it would suggest that the Incas developed quipus (including the phonetic ones) from an earlier system based on a writing script. Why Guaman Poma's sources did not include this extensive list of pre-Inca kings may have also reflected his different sources, not based in Ecuador, as well as the influence of Christianity on his conception of time. Perhaps thinking of the Biblical stories and Christian traditions of long-lived patriarchs and the way other traditions in Peru stretched out the chronology of Inca rulers, Guaman Poma instead followed the traditional list of Inca-period rulers based at Cuzco while attempting to preserve the longer time period with inexplicably long reigns. Guaman Poma then was freed from the long list of others who, to be even somewhat accurate for the pre-Inca period, must have been referring to Wari and Tiwanaku rulers whilst forcing that earlier period into a history of the Cuzco-based kings.

An Account of the Antiquities of Peru

 

Although far shorter and featuring cruder artwork, Juan de Santa Cruz Pachacuti-Yamqui Salcamayhua's "An Account of the The Antiquities of Peru" is a fascinating historical source on the Incas. Written from the perspective of an elite Indian Christian, it offers an interesting perspective on the precolonial past with some similarities and differences from Guaman Poma's more detailed chronicle. Unlike Guaman Poma, there is no indication that this Indian writer had an obvious political motive for writing his brief account, except perhaps as a Christianized indigenous perspective on the rise and fall of the Incas. Indeed, the author's Christianity has profoundly shaped and perhaps distorted the history of the Incas who, at various times, were presented as opponents to the huacas, idolatry and demons which had plunged Peru into heathenism before the Spanish conquest. 

It would appear that our chronicler hear believed Viracocha may have been St. Thomas, the apostle, an idea also found in Guaman Poma's work. According to this Christianized interpretation of Viracocha, the apostle promoted the worship of the Creator or universal Creator while opposing idolatry and the worship of huacas throughout Peru. This Tonapa, another name reported for this figure Juan de Santa Cruz merges with St. Thomas, is attributed an important role in the origin of the Incas since it is his staff that is inherited by Manco Capac. In other words, the Incas were, early on, at least, exposed to some ideas of a single God or Creator. The chronicler, however, appears to consistently mistake the worship for the Sun with the worship of the Creator, causing a number of problems in his portrayal of this or that Inca ruler as an enemy to the huacas. Nonetheless, some of his reports of Incas opposed to huacas from one province or another may reflect historical moments in which the religious policy of the Inca state opposed those of other peoples or provinces. Other moments in the lives of the Inca seem a little questionable or perhaps of Biblical inspiration. For instance, the report of Manco Capac sacrificing his son to receive a sign from the Creator bears an uncanny resemblance to the Judeo-Christian Abraham. 

Overall, this brief account provides the usual overview of the lives and deeds of the Incas, with some occasionally rich detail, report of a miracle or exceptional event. The Incas were occasionally corrupt and unjust, abusing, exploiting and promoting idolatry. Others, however, established good laws and supported the worship of the Creator. By the end of the Empire, Huascar, portrayed as more sinful and incompetent than Atahualpa, is presented as so corrupt as to allow men to have their way with the virgins in the square of Cuzco. The Spanish conquest, therefore, helps to reestablish monotheism and the "true faith" as the "Viracochas" return with the Bible. Perhaps the believe that Tonapa was St. Thomas was a way to reconcile the brutal shock of two different worlds when Pizarro arrived? By accepting Christianity, they were just returning to the ways of Tonapa that they had deviated from under the Incas. Does this also help to understand what the sources are indicating when they claim Tonapa carried a book with him during his travels? Was this mysterious "book" in precolonial Peru a reference to what they would later know as the Bible? Or some other type of holy text and writing besides the usual records in khipu? 

Sarmiento de Gamboa and the Incas

Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa's 1572 chronicle of the Inca Empire, The History of the Incas, is one of the more fascinating early Spanish colonial histories of the Incas. While undoubtedly a product of Francisco de Toledo's vision for the colony and Sarmiento de Gamboa's pro-colonial outlook that sought to delegitimize the Incas as tyrannical despots, the chronicle was also based on oral testimony and traditions from members of all the royal ayllu of Cuzco. In addition, Sarmiento de Gamboa had planned the chronicle to be the second of a three-part work covering the viceroyalty, based on extensive travels around the colony. Indeed, Sarmiento de Gamboa's chronicle even included the names of various Cuzco Indian witnesses who were present for a reading of the work and whose commentary on it was incorporated into the text. That said, Francisco de Toledo and the colonial officials likely exerted pressure on the Cuzco indigenous informants. And since the actual testimonies collected by Sarmiento de Gamboa appear to have been lost, it is possible that the author changed or modified things or perhaps misunderstood some of the oral traditions he heard. In addition, the overriding goal of Sarmiento de Gamboa, to portray the Incas as tyrants and to legitimize Spanish possession of Peru, undoubtedly contradicted the perspective of the descendants of the Incas.

Despite these aforementioned problems with Sarmiento de Gamboa's work, and its problematic chronology that places Manco Capac's death in 665, thereby distorting the chronology of the Incas, he reports a number of interesting traditions and accounts of the 12 Inca rulers. For instance, a detailed version of the Inca origin myth from Pacaritambo and the days of Manco Capac that led to the conquest of Cuzco from its native inhabitants is presented in a way that points to internal conflict among the Inca and their alleged tyranny and despotism. Surely this way of presenting the Incas, similar to that of the later work of Cobo, may not have been the most faithful retelling of the myth.  Sarmiento de Gamboa's work also mentions historical details and an earlier tradition of Inca history from the times of Pachacuti. Indeed, it is possible that Sarmiento de Gamboa, and the painted cloth that similarly reproduced the history of the Incas, was based to a great extent on the painted boards and the collected historical narratives produced after Pachacuti gathered elder historians from across the provinces to Cuzco. Pachacuti, as such a prominent ruler and pivotal figure in the Inca state's expansion, probably helped consolidate and organize an "official" history of the Incas that drew from oral traditions and quipu. While the oral traditions maintained by members of the royal ayllu were naturally major sources to Sarmiento de Gamboa, the Cuzco royal ayllus would not have escaped the influence of Pachacuti's historical investigations. Unfortunately, since none of the painted boards Pachacuti had designed have survived, one cannot ascertain further details of this.

Besides reporting a number of traditions and sometimes conflicting accounts of the reigns, rebellions, achievements, and conflicts of the Incas, Sarmiento de Gamboa recorded a fascinating tradition of an Inca's travels in the Pacific Ocean after the conquest of Quito. In short, Pedro Sarmiento de Gamboa's account of Topa Inca's Pacific expedition to the islands of Avachumbi and Ninachumbi was based on an account given to him by Urco Guaranga, an important Inca who was one of the Inca elite informants of Sarmiento's chronicle. Apparently Urco Guaranga also owned the skin and jawbone of the horse brought back from the Pacific island by Topa Inca. In addition, Urco Guaranga also named several of the prominent Inca who accompanied Topa Inca on their expedition into the Pacific. Sarmiento is sure that the islands visited by Topa Inca must have been the ones he "discovered" in 1567, about 200 leagues west of Lima (the Solomon Islands). But something doesn't add up. If Topa Inca had really visited the Solomon Islands after his conquest of Quito, how could he have brought back the skin and jawbone of a horse? There were no horses in the Solomon Islands or Polynesia during the 1400s, right? 

But the account does seem to describe something that actually occurred before Topa Inca became emperor. During the conquest of Quito or Ecuador, merchants who traveled across the Pacific with sailboats described their island homeland as possessing gold and Topa Inca, after using the supernatural abilities of Antarqui, confirmed the story of the merchants. Then he traveled with 20,000 soldiers on rafts into the Pacific, disappearing for at least 9 months. However, when Topa Inca returned, he brought "black" men, a brass chair, and the previously mentioned skin and bone of a horse. If all this did indeed occur, as seems likely, the coast of Ecuador was in contact with traders from the Pacific (somewhere in Oceania) and these islanders included "black" people (Melanesians?) with access to brass and a "horse." If the horse parts were those of some other type of animal, which seems likely, and the Polynesian sailors were from a part of Polynesia which engaged in a trade of gold, metals (brass?) and other goods with the coast of Ecuador, this is probably evidence of transoceanic trade contacts between South America and Polynesia in pre-Columbian times. Contacts between coastal Ecuador and/or Colombia with Polynesian people has been proposed based on genetic evidence, so it is certainly plausible that an Inca prince could have journeyed to Polynesia after meeting said merchants.

Ultimately, however, Sarmiento de Gamboa sought to portray the Incas as illegitimate rulers and oppressors of the Indians of Peru. The tale that began with Manco Capac having a brother killed and the Incas usurping Cuzco ends with the fratricidal war and massacres of Huascar and Atahualpa. As admitted by Sarmiento de Gamboa, Pizarro and the Spaniards were only able to defeat the Incas because of the war between Atahualpa and Huascar that had decimated the empire and led to divisions within the ruling elite. Moreover, Inca expansion from Pachacuti to Huayna Capac relied on, to his eyes, oppressive and extreme exploitation, overtaxation, and control of the conquered Indians. They didn't even respect or observe their own customs when dealing with their kin and fellow Incas. Thus, such a tyrannical dynasty that was only able to control its subjects through extreme brutality, was wholly illegitimate and the Spanish were morally justified to replace them. Despite Sarmiento de Gamboa's obvious bias here, one can read between the lines and detect how imperial overexpansion and an unstable system of succession perhaps led to the Inca Empire's rapid dissolution. 

Inca Religion and Customs

Inca Religion and Customs continues Bernabe Cobo's work on the Inca Empire. Instead of history, however, the author emphasizes religion, customs, rites, superstitions, and everyday life among Peruvian Indians. Those who have read El Inca Garcilaso and other sources on life in the Inca Empire will be familiar with much of the information reported here. However, since Cobo relied heavily on a lost work by Polo de Ondegardo, plus his own observations and travels across Peru, one occasionally finds gems of information or additional references to further research. For instance, some idea of the role of constellations in Inca cosmology and understanding of the origins of humans and animals is apparent here. In addition, a detailed list of several guacas and the types of service or tribute and sacrifice they received helps one comprehend the tight relationship between the guacas and the Inca state. One can even find a functionalist and rational explanation for the practices of sorcery, divination and magic among the elderly in Inca society since, according to Cobo, elderly men had no other source of living except selling or exchanging their spiritual or magical services. Furthermore, Cobo mentions juntas or convitas among the farmers of the empire, the monopolization of the services of specialized artisans by the Inca and caciques, and the accomplishments of the pre-colonial Peruvians in architecture, weaving, agriculture, infrastructure, and metallurgy.

Tupac Amaru

Although our ongoing obsession with the Incas and Andean civilizations may be the cause of this, Gato Barbieri's "Tupac Amaru" is now one of our favorite "Latin jazz" compositions. Gato Barbieri was a master of playing in a more "free style" while his sidemen remained grounded in less free structure. And while the song does not sound particularly Andean, one can interpret Gato's wailing as the last laments of an Inca emperor or the rebellion of Tupac Amaru II. 

Avengers of the Americas

Interesting fact, when Dessalines declared the independence of Saint-Domingue as Haiti, a Taino word referring to the island's mountainous terrain, he also referred to the former slave army as the "Avengers of the Americas." In addition to choosing a name for the new nation reflecting its indigenous past, whose inhabitants were largely eradicated through colonial conquest, enslavement, and Spanish cruelty, some parallels can be seen in the experience of people of African descent in the island under brutal French colonial racial slavery. Indeed, Philippe Girard suggests part of the reason Haiti was named such may have been due to some similarities in both groups' experiences with colonial violence and barbarity, such as the use of war dogs, for example. In addition, David Geggus has researched some trends in the rise of the use of "Haiti" as a name for the island, which he traces back to white creole elites in the colonial period who, upset over French colonial ruling structures, considered secession at one point while open to the idea of using the name Haiti. Furthermore, Geggus demonstrates that many saw the origin of the Incas in South America as derived from Hispaniola, so Dessalines and the newly established nation of Haiti "avenged" the Amerindian or indigenous peoples of the Americas. Perhaps this is part of the inclusion of those of Native American or indigenous descent in the pro-Black and pro-Indian immigration policy in 19th century Haitian constitutions.

Regardless of the specificity of how some conceived of Incas originating in the Caribbean, the parallels in the experiences of African slaves and indigenous peoples of the Americas were obvious and of some meaning to many of African descent. Thus, the naming of Haiti and the declaration of Dessalines as the "Avenger of the Americas" indicates interracial solidarity and an interesting case study for African-Native relations in the hemisphere. Moreover, since a few decades before the 1791 slave revolt initiated the Haitian Revolution, Tupac Amaru and other indigenes led rebellions against colonial rule in South America. It would be interesting to see the intersections of indigenous anti-colonial resistance and that of enslaved peoples of African descent in the Caribbean. For instance, we know of the alliances between runaway slave communities and Seminoles in Florida, or the Garifuna communities' links to African slaves and Caribs, but what about ideological solidarity, something that appears to be the case in early Haiti. Moreover, we know that by the time Haiti became a French colony in the 1600s, very few indigenous people were left, and many people of Indian backgrounds were likely captives and slaves from other parts of the circum-Caribbean region. What I would like to know is if the news of indigenous rebellions in Peru or Bolivia somehow reached back into the French Caribbean's Afro-descendants, or, if perhaps the general knowledge of European colonial genocide and racism against indigenous peoples was the main motive for the naming of Haiti and the self-proclaimed "Avenger of the Americas" Dessalines.